A Tangled Web Ch. 02

Mary frowned, wondering if they could get it together on short notice, but decided, by default, that Jock was too stubborn to argue with. "OK, Papa," she replied, picking up the phone on Arlene's desk. "Ted's last period is just ending. Hopefully, I can get a message to him before he leaves for the day."

Meanwhile, at George Washington High School, Arlene Hart's daughter, Cynthia, chewed her pencil in Ted Trotter's final Algebra class and stewed. She had only just barely passed General Mathematics, two years ago, and now, needing one more math credit to graduate, she was drowning. Some of it was her fault. She could have studied more and goofed around with the other kids less, but, she thought fitfully, "What FUN was THAT?"

"Cindy? Are you WITH us this afternoon?" Mr. Trotter's melifluous voice interrupted Cynthia's quandary about how she was going to pass his class. Answering his own question, Trotter said, "I guess not. Alright, Frank, could you please go to the board and solve the equation for us? Thanks." Turning his attention to the comely miss who was hopelessly out of her depth, he asked, not unkindly, "Cynthia, could you please remain after class?" When he saw her nod her assent, he walked to the blackboard and stood while his strongest pupil quickly chalked figures.

When the bell rang, the students evaporated like so much morning dew in a sunbeam, leaving only Trotter and Cynthia in the room. Stepping up behind her as she sat at her pine-and-steel student desk, Trotter casually dropped his hands on her bare shoulders between her neck and the ruffled straps of her sundress. His height and angle gave him an unimpeded view of her pert medium bust, pushing out against the white seersucker frock's bodice.

"Cindy," he asked, "What AM I going to DO with you? I want SO much to TEACH you, but you seem... distracted... all the time." His smooth soft tone put the girl at ease, even as the words made her nervous. She liked the secure warm feeling his hands gave her, however.

"I don't know, Mr. Trotter," Cynthia answered, truthfully. She had turned eighteen in September and it seemed as if her mother had been on her case all year. She could hear her, even now, in her head, lecturing, "It's a changing world, Cindy... it's not enough to be pretty and married... Lord knows, I found THAT out the hard way when your daddy, bless him, was gunned down at the bank by that dirty John Dillinger... may HE rot in HELL!"

The upshot of the oft-repeated tale of her father's demise, was that she, Cynthia Hart, had darned well better get skills to support herself, beginning with a high-school diploma. Arlene would go through the roof every time her daughter broached the subject of leaving school and finding a boy to marry.

Now, here she was, two weeks from graduating and flunking Algebra. She did not know what she was going to tell her mother. A tear sprang into her right eye as she sat pitying herself and trying to answer her teacher. "I guess I'm just a DUNCE," Cynthia said quietly through quivering lips.

Trotter's heart melted with pathos at his student's quaking voice. At the same time, unbidden, his penis hardened as his fingertips naturally drew off her body heat and set a fire in his loins. "I doubt that, Cindy," he replied kindly, though it was clear she, in fact, had no head for mathematics. "I've watched you through the year and think, in many ways, you are quite a clever girl." He applied slight pressure to her trapezius muscles and watched, with satisfaction, while her breasts swelled and sank as she inhaled and sighed with the squeeze.

"D-do you REALLY think so, Mr. Trotter?" Cynthia tipped her head back and tried to read his face. She gave him a wan upside-down smile. "I do TRY to understand, but SOMEHOW, the problems just BAMBOOZLE me."

"I KNOW you try, Cindy," Trotter agreed empathetically, "and that's MY problem... I've never failed a student before, and I HOPE you won't be my first." Tugging gently on her bare upper arms, he encouraged her to stand from her desk. "Let's go over to the side board. I have an idea."

While Cynthia stood, Trotter walked to the back of the room and turned the back door's lock. As she moved to the blackboard on the wall between the two doors, he strode, nonchalantly but with purpose, to the front door and secured it as well. When they met at the side blackboard, he wrote, 4 x = 12. "Let's solve this for 'x', Cindy," Trotter suggested with a smile, handing her the chalk.

Cynthia stared at the hierogliphics for what seemed to be hours. Her face contorted and she chewed her lip. Trotter took the opportunity to assess her assets from the rear. Nine big red buttons paraded from her neckline to two inches above the dress hem. A solid red sash, tied in a bow in the middle of her back, complimented the buttons and the white puckered cotton's small red polka dot pattern. With each halting and unsuccessful attempt to write a solution, Cynthia's arm stretched the fabric over her slim bottom and raised her hem across the backs of her bare knees.

At last, bravely scratching an answer on the board, she tossed the chalk in the tray, turned, and rocked up on the toes of her red peppermint-striped flat-heeled sandals. Holding her breath, she looked up at Trotter and guessed, "48?" She saw immediately in his face that she was wrong, but she already was pretty sure she had erred. She had just grown tired of putting off the bad news.

Ted Trotter drew upon his sixteen years teaching experience and simply said, "Let's look at it another way... together." Cynthia sank back on her heels, not realizing a button had hooked the edge of the chalk tray. Her dress' hem raised well above her knees in back while the material drew tight across her stomach below the sash. Trotter stepped in front of the flummoxed girl and said, "Let's say you have 12 cents. And, you have four coins... can you tell me what are the coins that you have?"

"Why, that's EASY," Cynthia said, laughing. "I would have two nickels and two pennies!"

"That's right..." Trotter replied, "but that's not 'easy'... that's practical ALGEBRA!" He grinned and asked, "Now, what if I said ALL the coins were EQUAL VALUE? What would you have?"

Instantly, Cynthia protested, with an inspirational flash, "That's impossible... there AREN'T any three-cent coins!"

Trotter reached out, held her biceps in a loose grip and wiggled his wrists gently. "That's RIGHT, there aren't... but if there WERE, your answer was correct." Spinning her to face the board, he picked up the chalk, put it in her hand, and held it with her for a brief moment before letting go. "So ,tell me what you did in your head to answer my two questions."

"Why, I just... DIVIDED the twelve cents, Mr. Trotter. In real money it would HAVE to be two nickels and two pennies. But, if you FORCE them to be EQUAL, then it has to be three PRETEND three-penny coins."

"Perfect!" Trotter exclaimed and dropped his hands to Cynthia's waist. His pinkies rested on her hip points as his longer fingers curled and pressed the seersucker against her softer stomach tissue. "That's what the 'X' does: It substitutes for a single value. So '4 X = 12' is ANOTHER way of saying '4 things of the same value total 12'"

Cynthia cocked her head and thought about what her teacher said. She also thought about how his hands on her abdomen were warm and made her stomach flip. "But you said 'COINS' the FIRST time... and that STILL wouldn't be possible if they were EQUAL."

"OK, Cindy," Trotter answered calmly, inhaling the floral scent of her shampoo rising from her braided brunette hair. "So let's write a DIFFERENT equation for the coins." Again covering her right hand with his, he moved the chalk for her and wrote: 2 x + 2 y = 12. "Now we have the coin solution: where X represents nickels and Y represents pennies. Of course, they could be reversed because there's two of each value and, if we didn't insist on minted American money, the answer could be '4' and '2'. BUT, the IMPORTANT thing here is, you have TWO variable values to find and YOU solved BOTH the equations in your HEAD!"

Emphasizing his point, Trotter bent his face and smooched the part on top of Cynthia's head. As he pressed his lips to her scalp, his hands automatically added a squeeze at her waist and then slid over her hips, into the big patch pockets on the sides of her dress. Feeling vaguely light-headed and excited, all at the same time, she teetered. Trotter inched closer and steadied her sway, with his chest against her back, as he rubbed her textured dress lightly over her upper thighs.

Tendrils of heat reached from her teacher's fingertips to Cynthia's tingling teen pussy and then rose to her chest. She mewled softly and stammered, "B-but what g-gooood... is it if I... uhmmm, d-don't know what... I'm... DOING?" Dropping the chalk again, she gripped the tray edge and leaned back into Trotter's torso.

Ted growled low in his throat. Huskily, he said, "I think you know what you're doing, Cindy." Pressing his advantage, he pressed his palms against her firm quads. "You're a...NATURAL... problem solver." His moving hands, still in her pockets, rose back to her hips, dragging her dress with them. She groaned and shifted her feet, spreading her legs for better balance.

"Mmm-MR. Trotter," Cynthia murmured, "Wh-aaat are YOU... doing?" She trembled in his bold embrace and lolled her chin on her chest. It heaved as she took ragged irregular breaths.

"I'm working... an inequality problem," he whispered. Splitting his hands, Trotter slid the bunched seersucker up with his left, while his right slid across Cynthia's bare midriff and dove beneath the elastic of her rayon panty briefs. She gasped when his forearm shelved itself under her bosom and his middle fingers slotted between her pussy's wet lips. "Will you... HELP me with... the SOLUTION?"

Cynthia looked at the teacher's left hand burrowing into the amassed cotton and grabbing her right breast in her soft bra. His hand plucked her puffed nipple and areola through the material. She wanted more. She needed more. She heard her voice, in a fuzzy fog, saying "Y-yesss, Mr. Trotterrrr, YESSSS!"

Ted grinned, spun the girl and pulled her tight to him. Quickly sealing his mouth to hers, he opened his lips and waited. Her tongue pushed through and teased his, while she gripped his back and squirmed. Delighted by the voluntary fevered response, Ted loosed her sash bow. Rapidly unbuttoning the top third of her dress, he slid her shoulder straps down her arms, and with them, her bodice to her waist.

Cynthia's proud breasts pushed against their cups into Trotter's shirt, but not for long. He twisted her bra strap hooks from their eyes and freed the prisoners. With renewed energy, she mauled his mouth and moaned into the back of his throat. As she writhed, her sundress slid to the floor and pooled at her ankles.

Trotter was in the throes of his lust. He lifted the brunette teen from the floor and danced in a slow circle, without lessening the passion of their kiss. Needing support, and something else, Cynthia twined her legs around his as he moved. Trotter cupped her ass with both hands while she clung to him like a thistle burr. His splayed fingers felt her seeping cunt's stickiness.

Pinning her to the wall between the blackboard and the back door, Trotter risked dropping Cynthia and took his hands away from her butt. She hugged him harder and instinctively clenched her thighs. He freed his suspenders and unbuttoned his trousers. They collapsed immediately in a heap while his cock poked through his boxers and scouted the territory.

Cynthia whimpered and sucked his tongue hard. Though it was getting sore, Ted did not interrupt her happiness. Instead, he pushed her bottom back to the wall and moved in closer still. While he guided his prick with his right hand, his left hand pulled Cynthia's panty gusset aside from her pussy. The exposed glistening target winked wetly within her light bush of dark hair. His eager dick's nose slid easily along the long crease.

Cynthia yipped when Trotter's tip bumped her clit. She flexed her nails through his shirt and tugged his tongue. Ted wiped his cock back down her slice to his goal and pressed forward. He was both surprised and pleased, but not deterred, by the resistant barrier blocking his progress. Still kept speechless by the sucking teen, he could not warn her.

Lunging forward and pulling Cynthia's hips toward him, Trotter thrust his bone. The hymen stretched, bulged, and surrendered to superior force as he popped her cherry and drove his full fat seven inches upward into her formerly virgin hole. Cynthia arched her back and broke their kiss with a sharp screech when the unexpected intruder entered her. Her cry faded with the sting and she hung her head on Ted's shoulder.

He gimbaled his hips, slowly at first, and stroked smoothly in Cynthia's tight tunnel. Responsively, she contracted around his cock and kneaded her fingers in his shoulder muscles. Trotter added hip stirs to his thrusts and felt her grind her groin into him as their pubic bones bumped. Cynthia's crisis was quickly upon her and she suddenly clenched her arms, legs, chin and cunt as her orgasm broke and rolled. Ted relentlessly pounded in and up, bringing her to another breakpoint and pushing her past its limit.

With her second orgasm, Cynthia bit through Trotter's shirt into his trapezius and humped her ass off the wall, desperately impaling herself to the extreme. His brain screamed, "That's enough!" and his tight balls blew up. Biting his own lips to keep from yelling, Trotter pumped and dumped until his well was dry and his legs quivered. Cynthia folded loosely against him as every one of her previously contracted sinews and muscles relaxed. He lowered her to the floor and held her upright.

After an aeon of less than a minute, Cynthia looked up at her teacher. Dried tears stained her flushed cheeks and sweat beaded her brow. She grinned madly and asked, "Did we find the solution, Mr. Trotter?"

Ted laughed, weakly, and answered, "Oh, yes, Cindy... Problem solved." He kissed her salty forehead, then her shiny nose, and finally planted a longer, warmer, kiss on her pliant lips. "Don't worry about your grade. I won't fail you... I promise."