All characters presented in the story are at least eighteen years old.
I entered the classroom at twenty after four in the afternoon. It was twenty minutes after I was expected to report for detention, but at least five minutes before Mr. Edwards expected to see me.
"Sarah Cuse—you amaze me," Mr. Edwards scoffed from his desk. "Somehow, you have managed to defy the basic principles of physics and have managed to arrive both too early and too late. If only you could find some way to apply that ingenuity to your studies, perhaps you wouldn't be here so often."
I forced a smile at him. I wanted to tell him to go to hell, or just how stupid his thick black glasses looked on his pale and aging face. And, if it was any other time, I think I would have. But it was June now, and I was in the waning days of my senior year of high school. I just needed to complete the semester, and my school career would be finished. I would be free. The rest of my classes were a breeze and I had no trouble in them, but science—especially science with Mr. Edwards—was overwhelming. I found the subject matter by itself to be difficult for me, but, Mr. Edwards made everything that should have been difficult, unyieldingly hard. He was the kind of teacher that made you stop and wonder why? Why would someone who obviously hates people so much choose to spend their life working with teenagers?
It had started out where, at least twice a week, I found myself having to stay after school for half hour long detentions. After the first month of class, I was in detention at least three times a week. And I wasn't the only one. It seemed like the class was half full of students every single day I was there; even some of the students who always did really well in the class and hardly ever said anything out loud found themselves chained to their desk at the end of the day. There didn't seem to be any method to his middle-aged madness, just a kind of bitter resentment towards graduating seniors.
So, after a few months of constantly having to stay after class, I decided to simply stop showing up on time. Mr. Edwards never said anything about it to me, only his usual snide remarks when I would come late, but after a few days of me being twenty minutes late, he started to lash out at me in class. Everything I did was put under scrutiny by him. He called on me often in class, especially when he was sure I didn't know the answer. He started saying he'd lost assignments I'd submitted, or just outright failing me, but never kept me past 4:30 for detention.
He was such a chauvinistic dick, and I hated him for it.
I had decided to show up late again that day. The entire class was empty, except for two other people: Claire, my best friend, and a boy named Miles, who I had only ever talked to once. Miles was on her immediate right and smiled pleasantly at me as I sat down. He had kind of a goofy-looking charm to him. He wasn't what I would have called cute, but in his own weird way he was kind of attractive.
As soon as I sat down Claire grabbed my arm and whispered excitedly into my ear. "Oh my God, okay. So, Miles—"she jerked her head behind her—"that's Miles—Miles told me some great news!"
I nervously looked between her and Mr. Edwards and mouthed "What?"
"He is one of three people being considered for this year's science award!" I looked at her blankly, trying to figure out why I cared. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned closer towards me. "He would be a great person to get some tutoring from, don't you think?"
I looked past her to Miles, who was still smiling. He didn't look like very much, not even six feet—much smaller than any of the other guys I knew. He had medium-brown hair and a very average looking build. In fact, everything about him seemed very average, but I didn't need him for his looks. I was on the verge of failing the course, and desperately needed someone to help me out if I wanted to graduate this year.
I leaned in closer to her now, so that we were whispering into each other's ears. "Did you tell him I needed a tutor?"
"Yeah, and I think he's got a thing for you—you wouldn't even have to pay him, probably. Just wear a mini-skirt and he'd probably do your assignments for you," she teased.
"Ladies!" came Mr. Edwards booming voice. "Do shut-up."
"How is he still a teacher?" I whispered and we both giggled.
Claire did have a very good point, though. Yes, I did need a tutor. But even better would be a hired hand. It was June, after all. The year was almost over and I was barely focused for the time I was in school, I didn't want to have to force myself to do even more work outside of class. And I did need the course to graduate.
I let the idea circle in my head for the few minutes I was in class. At exactly 4:30, just like every other day, Mr. Edwards packed up his things and told us we could leave. As he rushed out, I turned to Miles. "Hey, Miles ... Claire says you're really good at all this science-stuff. Do you think you could take a few minutes and help me understand a few questions about yesterday's assignment?"
He lit up like a little kid, he might have even flushed a little bit. And he should, honestly. I'm one of the better-looking people in our class. I have wavy black hair that runs down to the center of my back, and the kind of bright green eyes that will make a man cum just by looking at them. I swim competitively, and have the body to prove it. My ass alone is the kind of thing that some guys are going to remember in ten years when they're fucking their wives.
Today, as it turned out, I had chosen a particularly dangerous outfit for nearby males. I was wearing a pair of very, very tight denim jeans, ripped along the knees, and a cute pink top that barely contained my tits.
Miles nodded to me that he wanted to help, and I saw Claire smile broadly. "Alright, well I'll leave you two to it!" She grabbed her things and headed towards the door. "Oh—and hun: remember to ask your lover if he can pick Tim and me up for the bonfire tonight"
"I'll text you," I waved
"Love you!" she called behind her, and disappeared out the classroom door.
Miles sat down in the seat where Claire had just been sitting, and cleared his throat. "Your, ahem, lover?" he asked.
"Oh, that's just Claire. She means boyfriend, it's just a little thing she—anyways.," I cut myself off as a sad look spread across his face. "Miles, I'm in a lot of trouble. You see, tonight is our bonfire and I haven't even started our assignment yet, and it's due tomorrow and—"
"Don't worry, I'll help you as much as you need," he assured me.
"That's so sweet," I gushed, reaching out and putting my hand on his. "But, actually, Miles"—I kept my hand on his drawing a little circle with my finger—"I was hoping you would ... do it for me?"
His face was turning bright red as I kept my hand on his. Had he ever even kissed a girl? I wondered to myself.
"It's not like it's a big deal, right?" I insisted. I took my free hand and brushed back a piece of stray hair from his forehead. He gulped hard.
"No—I—I can't do that," he said. "I can help you, but I'm not going to risk my academic standing by doing your—your work for you."
"Miles," I cooed. My hand that had been on his hand moved a finger, slowly, up his arm to the sleeve of his shirt. "There must be something I can do to change your mind ... " I bit my lower lip as his face turned bright red. Looking down to his pants, I could see the outline of his cock halfway down his thigh, as hard as could be. I took my hand off his arm and placed it gently on his thigh. It did nothing, simply rested there. He squirmed in his seat and took another deep gulp. I knew how uncomfortable it must have been, my hand against his bulging cock; something he had no doubt jacked off to countless times before, now so close to his body ...
"There's nothing you can think of? Nothing I could do ... nothing I could give you that would make you doing one, teeny-tiny little assignment for me worthwhile?" I rubbed my hand with a little more force against his dick.
"There is one thing ... " he said, shuddering.
"Oh?" I asked, playing dumb and taking my hand off of his hard cock. His body untensed immediately. "What's that?"
"I think you know." He was staring at my thighs, as he drew in a series of short breaths, trying to regain control of his body.
"Oh, tell me ... " I begged him, and put my hand back on his leg. "Please, tell me ... "
He drew in a deep breath. "OK. I'll do it, but ... " he paused, trying to think of the right word. I looked at him with excited eyes, and bit my lower lip again. "You have to give me a blowjob."
"Mmm," I moaned. "That sounds ... delicious." I ran my hand over his cock a few times, looking into his eyes. "You better finish quickly," I told him leaning in as if to kiss him. At the last second, I turned my head towards my bag on the floor behind me and took my hand off of his cock. I handed him the only paper I had on my project, and stood up. His eyes were glazed and his mouth half-open as he stared at my crotch through my jeans as I stood up.
I moved behind him, bending down to whisper in his ear as I did. My breasts rubbed against the back of his neck and I moved my lips close enough that they touched his ears. "But don't finish too quickly."
And then I walked out and left him there to collect his thoughts.
The rest of the night was relaxing—it was exactly what I had needed. I called my boyfriend and asked him to give Claire and her boyfriend a ride to the bonfire, and he agreed, of course—he always agreed.
The bonfire was fun too. When Claire got me by myself finally, she asked about Miles. "So, how did it go? Did he explain everything?"
"Actually, he's doing it for me." I giggled. Her jaw dropped and her eyes narrowed, and I could tell she was trying to fight back a smile.
"Did you fuck him?!" she said, trying to whisper and laugh at the same time. "You're such a whore!"
I'm not a whore. Really. I like to have sex, and I like to feel wanted and to pleasure and be pleasured—but I don't think I'm a whore. I denied having sex with him and she just kept saying sure and acting like she didn't believe me. I decided then that it would be a better idea not to tell her about my aggressive negotiating techniques, and how I had offered him a blowjob if he did finished my assignment.
But I didn't want to fuck him. I had my boyfriend for that. He had a beautiful penis—the kind that I could ride all day. I would let him do whatever he wanted to me, because he knew how to handle my body. He knew exactly what to do, and what to say to me. For some reason, though, I found myself incredibly hot that night, cuddled up to my boyfriend in front of the fire. I couldn't get the thought of Miles's face out of my head, the way he looked so desperate for more.
"Let's go for a walk," I whispered into my boyfriend's ear. He raised an eyebrow and looked at me as if to ask, Oh really? before getting up. Together, we started to head off into the woods, me leading him by the hand. When we got far enough away from the others, I pressed him up against a tree and kissed him. In the faint light of the night, my hands worked quickly on his belt and pants, and before long they were down around his ankles. His hands were running through my hair and grabbed feverishly at my ass, trying to grind his cock against my pussy.
I couldn't stop thinking of Miles while I stroked his cock with my hand. He made quiet grunts and moans as I teased him. He wanted to fuck. I could tell by the way he kept trying to undo my pants, but each time he tried I stopped him. All I wanted to do was suck on his cock.
"Baby ... " he moaned running his fingers through my hair as I lowered myself down in front of him. He was magnificent. Not freakishly huge, but magnificent. I loved sucking on his cock almost as much as he loved cumming in my mouth. And tonight, I was determined that he would do just that.
I started bobbing my head up and down on his cock right away, twirling my tongue over his head and stroking his shaft while I worked. It didn't take long before he had me by the hair, making sure I didn't stop. He held my mouth down onto his cock and started to buck his hips, sending his thick cock deeper and deeper down my throat. I moaned as he fucked my throat, and that just made him grunt and fuck my face harder.
I relaxed my throat and let him pound my face. He rammed his cock down my throat over and over again, pulling harder and harder on my hair as he went. I stuck my tongue out and tried to lick his balls where I could.
"Yes, right there—yes, baby, yes," he moaned. "You're gonna' make me—cum!" Like a magician, as soon as he said the word, I could feel him start to cum. He pulled on my hair to get me off of his cock so he could stroke himself off, but I refused. I played with his balls in my hand and sucked every last drop of his nectar into my mouth, before I let his cock fall out of my mouth.
He let out a deep sigh as he stood there, half-naked with me down on my knees in front of him. I swallowed everything he had, and licked my lips for him.
"Thanks, baby," I told him, pulling his pants up. We walked out of the woods holding hands and returned unnoticed to the rest of the group.
It was the next day at lunch that I saw Miles. It was the period before the assignment was due, and he was sitting with another group of people at a table some ways away. I didn't have any desire to talk to him, especially not in front of my boyfriend and was glad that he didn't seem too keen to approach me around my friends either.
I had spent the entire morning thinking about him though. Not so much about him, rather, as about whether or not he had done my assignment for me. I thought I had been very persuasive yesterday, but I was worried what he would do if he realized I was just using him.
So, when I arrived in class I saw him sitting there very seriously. He looked confused about how to regard me as I entered the room. I saw his eyes dart immediately to my chest, and was not surprised. I was wearing a white button-up shirt today with a plaid mini-skirt that just barely met school dress codes. When I sat down beside him, he quietly handed me a stapled copy of the assignment, printed and typed, with my name and student information on it.
I smiled at him and handed it in to a particularly melancholy Mr. Edwards. "And what trite dribble can I look forward to reading this time, Ms. Cuse?"
I forced a smile again, and turned to take my seat. Miles looked very rigid and very uncomfortable.
"Thanks," I told him with a giggle as I settled in for class.
"So how do we ... you know," he asked, shyly. I stared at him for a minute, with a patronizing smile—the kind of smile you offer to someone who is just so hopelessly pathetic. I tried to think of the best way I could to tell him that I hadn't been serious. But before I was able to say anything, Mr. Edwards insisted on beginning his class, which turned out to only be an hour long pop quiz.
"As soon as you're done, hand your quiz in and get out," he told us and started passing them out. The entire time I was writing the quiz, I was trying to think of the most effective, and yet least harmful way, of convincing Miles he had been mistaken in thinking I was actually going to suck his dick for an assignment. He had already done it, and I felt pretty confident that it would be a higher mark than the 40s and 50s I had collected so far.
At the end of class, I handed in my quiz which I knew was going to be an abysmal failure. To my surprise Mr. Edwards handed me back the assignment I had given him only an hour before. Circled on the top of the page it said 99%.
"I marked it first, hoping to cheer myself up," he said, though he sounded very morose.
I didn't exactly know what to say, but staring at the highest mark I had had all year on any project, a very naughty idea sprang into my mind. I walked out to the hallway still dumbstruck by the ludicrously high mark I had to my credit. Miles was there waiting for me like a little puppy.
"Oh, you got it back already? How'd you do?" he asked, pointing to the paper.
"You—I, I did good ... very good," I told him, trying to hide my shock. We both stared at the paper for a few more seconds. I was trying to decide what to do with this little genius I had all to myself.
"So ... " he started.
"Yeah, so, Miles why don't you come over tonight? I think we could both use some more study time," I put my hand on his arm and batted my eyes. "Don't you think?"
He nodded dumbly.
We set a time for eight o'clock and I gave him the address of my place. He looked very much like I had must have looked leaving that class with such a high mark. He said goodbye and started walking away, and then quickly turned around and headed the other way. He was absolutely dazed to have an invitation to my place. I don't know who was more vexed, him or me.
As soon as Claire came out I pretty much jumped her I was so excited. I showed her the assignment. "Wow! I told you it was a great idea!" she said. "How did you get him to do that?"
"I just asked," I told her innocently. "You were right though, he totally has a thing for me—he probably thought I'd be so grateful I'd suck him off."
"If he could do that for me on my year end assignment, I'd consider it," she laughed. We headed towards our lockers, talking about him as we went. We agreed he was cute, in a Big Bang kind of way, and apparently quite smart; it made us speculate briefly what other hidden talents he might have.
"So are you going to ask him to do the next assignment for you too?" she asked me when we'd reached our lockers.
"Yeah ... I already asked him to come over tonight," I said, taking some books out of my locker to take home with me. Claire eyed me with a look of perverse amusement.
"Oh really?" she asked.
"But, we're actually going to study!" I confessed. "I need to make it seem like I'm actually trying, right?" Claire just smirked and shook her head. We parted ways in the hallway with a hug. She went off for the night with her boyfriend and I went with mine. The entire way home he couldn't keep his hands off of me. He kept stroking my thigh, or moving my hand onto his leg. I liked the way he was trying to get me excited, trying to make me invite him in before anyone else was at my place. The entire way home, I only bit my lip and let him stroke the inside of my thigh. When he stopped in front of my house, I leaned over and briefly kissed him. His hand finally reached under my skirt and brushed the silk thong I had on.
"Naughty boy," I scolded and removed his hand. I grabbed my things and shimmied my way out of his truck. He looked frustrated and I was glad to see him frustrated. I liked making him work for it, making him grovel and plead with his eyes for my body. If I pushed him long enough, I knew he would take complete control of me. Some of my best memories were after I'd teased him for days, or even weeks, and "no" wasn't an option anymore. He'd hold me down, or sometimes even tie me up—he would tease me as I had teased him, and take whatever he wanted from my body.
But that night wasn't about him. That night I had other plans.
Miles arrived at eight o'clock exactly, wearing exactly what he'd worn earlier in the day, a bland red t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans plus a backpack. I met him at the door with my white button-up shirt that I'd worn earlier that day as well—though I had decided to remove my bra and undershirt and also leave only three of eight buttons done up for his arrival. And for the last ten minutes, I had been in my room, kneading my nipples through my fingers and resting my vibrator against my glistening slit. I wanted to make sure they were hard for him when he arrived. I had kept my skirt as well, but I removed my thong and rolled the skirt up a little bit higher so that it only barely covered my firm, round ass.