A Teacher's Help After ClassbyPaulyB©
My first story...
I'd been struggling with math my whole life. High school math was getting more and more complex as I, a freshly turned 18 year old, slim, blond kid failed my most recent attempt at a quiz. Having received the bare minimum 50% passing marks from grades 9 up until now, I was left inept at completing even the so called simplest examples of formulaic equations. Quietly passed along by nothing more than the apparent pity or frustration of my former math teachers, this year was at least proving to be a little more promising in the math department.
I had a new found determination about me, to improve my math grades once and for all, and to crack the square root rounded down to the nearest seventh.. or whatever. At least that's what I told myself and others. Now with the weather getting warmer with the spring season, I was maintaining my resolve to 'improve my math skills', but running out of time with final exams approaching. In reality it was my teacher I couldn't seem to get enough time with. Sure, I was surrounded by young, taut beauties in schoolgirl outfits and knee high socks. Some rumours even circulated about a few of those cuties having the hots for yours truly. I was even lucky enough to be at some of the right parties at the right time. Lucky enough to have taken part in a few experimental 'sessions' with a few of these cuties, however unsatisfying most of these 'sessions' may have been. Despite this I am not exactly the "brimming with confidence" type of guy. In fact I'd probably fall into more of the "anxiety ridden quiet type" category. Attractive to some as I may be with the green eyes and blond hair, my deep voice is rarely heard unless topics are school related, and not so much sports or weekend party related. Be that as it may I'm more of an English and art geek rather than math, but I still have my small circle of 2 or 3 friends to keep company.
Last class of the day I never waste time getting to Mrs. Landford's room. Yes that's correct 'Missus'. Unfortunately some lucky man has already got his grubby paws all over this gorgeous creature every night-if he knows what's good for him. I am third to class, (stunning as she is, other students may be more obsessed with her than myself, or just overly concerned with grades) and take my seat in the row second from front, by the window. She has her back turned to the mostly empty class and is writing out some hieroglyphic looking formulas for the lesson.
She can't be older than 33. Skin, a dark, natural tan colour year round. Her petite, 5'4 frame covered by a rather tight, black fabric skirt that comes down to just above her knees. Her long, athletic legs don sheer black nylon stockings leading down to medium height, black, high heeled shoes; pointed closed toe with little buckle straps, about a size 5. Calf muscles defined perfectly for a female, without too much bulk, but you can imagine the possibility that Mrs. Landford may have been a regular dancer or gymnast in the past. She definitely still goes to the gym. Mrs. Landford wears a stylish three quarter sleeve, fitted, dark coloured business jacket, with a white blouse to conceal her conservative B cups. Her dark brown, streaked with lighter brown coloured hair is in sort of an up do; basically pulled back into a ponytail which has been faced upwards, and held in place by a large black hair clip.
I stare at her tight ass as it so slightly jiggles with her repetitive hand motioning on the white board. Did I mention it's a perfect little grip of flesh as well? The type of bubble butt you need the genetics for, regardless of any exercise. Mrs. Landford turns around and reveals her lightly made up, unique, sort of Spanish mixed with Asian face. Big brown eyes, so dark almost as to appear black, with mascara and eyeliner. Slightly pouted upper lip with a light touch of lip liner and gloss. I briefly snap out of it as she flashes me and the entire class a smile, which has filled up unnoticed by myself; so recently lost in a haze of teenage lust and awe.
Mrs. Landford proceeds with the lesson, and I struggle to comprehend the Greek symbols and variables, simultaneously trying not to get caught periodically ogling her sweet body. She walks up and down the aisles of students as she speaks, and as she passes by I can taste her scent. Some light aroma with a sort of tropical air to it. Coconut maybe? The nails on her tiny hands are French manicured and I can only imagine her toes at this point. About midway through the period she asks a fellow student named Jenny to hand out our in-class math problems. I'm relieved she hasn't asked me to perform this task since my manhood is struggling with some problems of its own. Mainly those consisting of confinement, and rapid uncontrollable growth. Mrs. Landford seats herself behind her desk at the front of the class. Thanks to the partially non covered desk, I'm in a position as to be able to see from the bottom of her knees, down. After she settles in her seat, she crosses her legs and promptly allows one of her shoes to dangle off the tips of her toes. This allows me to glimpse a view of her deeply arched foot. Her toes still mainly hidden by the closed toes, this is still a beautiful sight to behold. I have always been one to hold a great appreciation for each and every delicate curve and contour of a fine woman's body, including and especially the feet.
-- I think back to a day earlier in the year when the school had arranged an assembly gathering, and everybody in the building was down in the gym receiving some sort of presentation. Teachers, students and all. I had gone to the washroom and was returning to the gym when I passed the empty math room. I quickly glanced around the halls and saw no one so on a whim, I poked my head in to ensure it was empty. Satisfied, I spotted Mrs. Landfords' pair of slightly worn running shoes, placed neatly in a corner behind her desk. I had seen her wearing them walking from her car in the mornings when she arrived. The very sight of her shoes, combined with the atmosphere of solitude caused an immediate semi to form. Feeling like some sort of perverted animal, the following actions were a blur of motion and pent up sexual energy. I lunged over, grabbed one shoe and placed the opening over my mouth and nose, breathing in as deeply as I could. Dizzy with the excitement gained from the scent, it was not overpowering, but that of a clean woman's shoe. Still, the scent was intense enough to instantly cause my full 7.5 inches to ferociously strain the fabrics of my shorts. The odour of my Mrs. Landfords' soles filled my very essence and left me intoxicated with lust for her. Part of me wanted to just go relieve myself in the bathroom, taking the shoe with the idea to replace it neatly where I found it, but being the timid fellow that I was, I figured my luck was probably about to run out. I returned to the gym with only the memory of a goddess's fragrance, and a stifled stiffy hard enough to cut diamonds.--
Back to the present day, I practically drool as Mrs. Landford commences with a little more shoe play, allowing her shoe to slightly swing forwards and backwards, off the tips of her toes until, *Plop*. Her shoe kindly drops to the floor. Slowly drinking in the sweet visual of her stretching toes, now free, to the ball of her foot, along the arch, and finally to the smooth heel, with fascination I'm literally aching in my drawers. I shift in my seat and quickly steal a glance back up at Mrs. Landford's face where - what's that...?! was that her just lowering her eyes from my own glance? She now seems to be concentrating on marking some papers.. but have I spotted a slight smirk on her face? Have I been caught? And if I have why the smirk!? Mrs. Landford has always been serious about teaching, albeit friendly. She has been known to occasionally laugh along with the students who crack a few jokes here and there, even now and then even offering a few puns of her own, but I would think this sort of behaviour might offend her perhaps..?
My anxious brainstorming is interrupted by the buzzer marking the end of the period. "Paul?" Mrs. Landford addresses me.
"Will you be joining me for some extra help today?"
"Uh.. I still need to up my marks, so.. you bet!" I stammer.
She smiles. "Great."
Blocking my still throbbing member with my bag I scramble out of the classroom.
"I just have to check my locker for, err.. something"
"Alright, don't be too long"
I have to pull myself together here. I hit the bathroom and splash a little cold water on my face. Check the hair, clothes not too wrinkled. I take five or ten and let myself calm down before heading back up to meet this beauty. I wonder if she caught me... will she confront me about it? Did she like being swooned over by some high school geek? These are my thoughts as I open the door. Mrs. Landford is nowhere to be seen. I take a seat by her desk where we usually sit during these private tutouring sessions, and await her return. I glance over and see those same running shoes I contemplated violating earlier in the year. The door opens and in walks a somehow even more gorgeous Mrs. Landford than before.
She has removed her stockings and is tapping towards me and her desk. She has also removed her business jacket, as well as the clip leaving her hair in a bouncy ponytail. Mrs. Landford then locks the door behind her. Why would she lock the door...?
"There we go. We'll be needing no distractions today since we're getting into some very advanced equations now wouldn't you say Paul?"
I cough dryly, avoiding eye contact.
"Um, yeah it's all pretty much over my head.. I mean except for when you explain it to me in these sessions."
"Yes it's very commendable to be working so hard at such a difficult subject for you. I'll take it into consideration when I'm marking your final exam."
"Well your being such a great teacher, actually one of the better teachers in the school and all, I just wanted to get all I could out of this class, and learn as much as you could teach me...to learn..Um, try to improve my average.."
Easy tiger. Probably laid it on a bit thick there, just take the compliment.
She smiles and seats herself behind her desk and we commence with our usual lesson, a review of what was just taught in class.
"How was the in-class assignment today?"
"Yeah it was alright. I managed to get through it."
"Yes I noticed your eyes were wandering a little bit today." she smiles.
"...uh...yeah a little.." I choke.
Here it comes.
"Since it is math and all I know there's only one right answer, but I didn't expect you to get them all correct like that! In fact I noticed your answers matched almost exactly what Dave put down! A little help from a neighbouring classmate perhaps?"
"Yeah I...I got a little help from Dave..he was just, uh, showing me..-"
"Don't worry I'm just teasing you." She smiles
"Here. Work through these problems and tell me where you start to get confused."
Whew, dodged a bullet there. A sexy bullet.
She writes some math problems down and I take the chance to notice a few buttons are undone at the top of her white blouse. From my angle I'm able to see right down the front of her shirt. She is wearing a bra but I have a clear enough view of her sweet, supple cleavage. My eyes once again wander down a bit lower to her now bare and crossed legs-
"Here you are."
Mrs. Landford slides the sheet of paper towards me.
I quickly refocus and scan her big, liquid eyes for any sign of awareness to my voyeurism... nothing I can decipher. I put my head down and try to concentrate on the task at hand, which I am almost immediately stumped on.
"See right here, I don't understand these extra symbols here-"
Suddenly her hand is over mine and she scoots her chair a little closer beside me. Shivers go from the contact point up through my whole body. Her hand is so soft it's like its almost surrounded by a coating of silk. A suspended cushion of warm, inviting air.
"That would be the variable. A little more challenging since you must work backwards here and find the square root..."
I can hear her voice continue but the words mean nothing. I am once again gazing down her legs to notice that she has once again lost one shoe to gravity. Her shoeless little foot, suspended; freshly freed from its prisons of nylon and leather. Not overly veiny like some feet tend to be, but youthful, smooth and bronze. Her perfectly proportionate toes relaxed, I see that she has continued her trend of self maintenance with a lovely French pedicure. The scent of her body wash or perfume, combined with these visual overloads in such close vicinity causes my penis to go from a spongy little prick to a pulsating third limb in seconds. My mouth inadvertently drops open.
"Mr. B______, are you listening?"
Her right hand drops onto my knee.
Uh oh. She must have noticed the glazed look in my eyes, the- before I complete the thought her left hand moves up my hand, arm and shoulder, and down my side, hips, past my ever present thickness, to rest on my thigh. She then leans over and almost whispers, in a more sultry voice than I've ever heard her speak:
"Because if I'm boring you, we should probably switch teaching methods."
Needless to say, I am speechless at this point. Brain buzzing with excitement and anticipation at what will happen next. I guess she's probably not too angry about my wandering eyes.
As my mental pistons race, I am jolted back to the physical world as my teacher lightly brushes her hand, wrist and arm across my tented lap, to rest her hand on my other thigh. She is leaning over me now. She moves her hand up to my abs and slides it up across my chest back towards her, reclining back into her chair. Staring at me, she says:
"More of a hands on learner are we?"
I simply nod, jaw still on the floor.
She smiles and removes the elastic from her hair with a little shampoo commercial head shake; in slow motion too, somehow. She kicks off her other shoe, and puts her feet up on my lap. Bare soles now in clear view she exclaims,
"Start this off with a little massage, my feet are killing me."
Her soles look divine. A significantly lighter coloured skin tone than the rest of her body, with a slight pinkish hue. The abrupt contrast leaves my cock almost launching off my body like some sort of flesh rocket.
I take hold of one of Mrs. Landfords' tiny feet and notice it feels just as soft as her hands; the very same 'softer than a baby's butt' type of silkiness. The only difference is a thin layer of sweat glistening. I'm a little relieved at this fact since my palms are sweating also. I start working the heel with my right thumb in a circular motion. My other thumb is a little to the other side of her foot just above the other performing the same motion, cradling her pods in my lap. I use these motions up the ridge and arch of the foot, trying to remember the internet foot massage manual I downloaded once in the past. I feel a sense of relief as Mrs. Landford begins to let loose small sighs of pleasure, increasingly more frequently as I start to massage the ball of her foot. I gradually move my hands up to her toes and rub each one in the same tender, circular motion, making sure to work my fingers in between each of her juicy little dactyls.
Somehow restraining myself from eagerly sucking and licking her toes like I really want to, I greedily switch over to her next foot and repeat. Her slight sighs are graduating into low moans as I lovingly continue my process, and her other foot begins to rub my raging rod. Her one foot gradually moves its way up my stomach and chest as I'm now pretty much fumbling with the other foot. Her toes are creeping up my neck and peach fuzzy chin stubble, finally reaching my lower lip until I can no longer stand it. I clutch Mrs. Landfords foot and just stuff her big toe and three others into my salivating maw. She lets out a rather loud, excited squeal from her glowing face, but stifles it in case any faculty are still around. I am now feverishly sucking the remaining sweat off each one of her toes like some sort of dog. My tongue is invading each little space in between her toes, tasting her salty goodness. The salt of a goddess. I drag my face down her sole to her Achilles tendon, deeply breathing in the delicious scent. I then slowly lick from her tendon and wrap my lips over her heel, sucking it for a moment. One hand clutching her calf and one cupping her toes, I slurp my tongue along the arch of her sole, savouring each and every moment. I'm sucking/kissing the ball of her foot now, drunk with passion, when Mrs. Landford interrupts me with the words:
"I said EAT ME!.. " Mrs. Landford almost shouts then turns to a husky whisper,
"Eat my little snatch!"
I nod and begin to work my way back down her satiny soles, creamy arches and delicate ankles. My hands and lips caress her smooth calf muscle down to the back of her knee, kissing and tasting my way along. Dragging my lips across her silken skin, inching ever closer to her yearning loins, I stop for a second and pull her skirt up to her waist. I take another couple of seconds to just drink in the sight of her black lace panties, floral patterned and sheer in some areas. I anticipate plucking the dainty garment from the depths of her sticky, moist crack. I lower my face to within an inch of her crotch and inhale the dank aura that entails. I turn my head and deliver what the kids call a hickey, enthusiastically to Mrs. Landfords' inner thigh, before finally gripping the delicate material by the front elastic.
I take one look up at Mrs. Landfords' flushed, magnificent face, before slowly pulling her soaking panties down towards me with one hand. The thong fabric is momentarily wedged in her crotch, before it snaps down her leg. I slide the drenched garment along her thigh and let it drop down her calf where it rests at her foot. I'm now down on my knees half under her desk, heavily breathing in the piquant flavour of her juices. I place my arms under Mrs. Landfords' legs, so that they rest on my shoulders and her ass is spread and nestled right up in my eager face. She has a very short layer of dark fur covering her entire vaginal region, and it has been trimmed even shorter on her outer lips. Her love juices stick and thread about through some of her pubic hair, glistening under the fluorescent lighting. She has a beautiful little pussy. Dark brown, thin labia lips, with deep pink, almost purplish inner folds. Her vagina constricts and expands, as if it is breathing. I bury my face in the dripping mound and ravenously feast away.
"Oh!" Mrs. Landford exclaims.
Her brief surprise quickly turns to sounds of pleasure as my tongue swirls feverishly, tasting her sex as the overpowering sensations flood my own senses. Low, drawn out moans continue as I work my tounge along the inside folds of her labia, and slide it along to the outer perimeter.
She clutches at my head and runs her fingers and nails through my hair. I lick upwards and begin to tease her her protruding clitoris, indulging in the animal waves of heat wafting from within her loins. I circle my tongue around her love nub as my left hand pulls back the clitoral hood for easier access. After a few rotations of this I give the clit a good little sucking. As I advance with this maneuver, her hips involuntarily lurch forward and I have to move my face back for a second to avoid receiving a black eye.
"OH! mmmmmm yes...."
I plunge back into her heaving haunch with an aggressive tonguing starting at the bottom of her asscrack, sliding up over her puckered anus and slurping up over her entire vagina. I slop my tongue back down and this time stick it right into her rectum.