His Private TutorbyCharles Petersunn©
This story was inspired by Japanese movies of a same or similar name, although it doesn't follow the typical course that occurs in these movies. The theme is primarily exhibitionistic, but there is also a quality of first time and a small bit of mature. Please note, all of the characters in this story are at least eighteen years old.
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Julie had always wanted to be a teacher. It was her dream ever since she was in junior high. Of course, at that time it was probably driven by the crush she had on her English teacher, Mr. Sacks. She would often stay after class to help him with things: cleaning the board, putting away pencils.
But, many great careers can trace their origins to a fortuitous event, and now Julie was actually realizing her own. She was an undergraduate at Livingston College, pursuing a bachelor's degree in education, specializing in middle school mathematics. She was just a sophomore, in her second year of training. She had a long way to go. But, this semester she would finally be able to actually teach. She would be a real instructor!
Well, maybe not actually an instructor. She would only be a tutor. But, as soon as she discovered the availability of a tutoring placement she signed right up. It would be so cool being able to actually influence a young person's future life, opening up his or her eyes to the wonders of algebra, or perhaps even calculus! She got shivers down her spine just thinking about it.
Math had also come easy to her. She had no explanation for why. It just seemed that her brain was hard-wired to be a mathematician, whereas her heart was wired to be a teacher.
She wondered expectantly whom her young pupil would be. She had to admit that she hoped for a young female, a girl she could place under her motherly wing, a girl that she would inspire as her mentor to pursue a similar life path as her own.
She was though soon disappointed when she discovered that she would be tutoring another college student. She had assumed that the student would be some little girl, or boy, the kind of pupil for whom she would someday be a real teacher. Nor did it help that he would even be a guy!
Julie did not feel particularly comfortable around men. It wasn't that she disliked guys. It was just that she just felt so intimidated and insecure around them.
It wasn't really clear why. She guessed it was in part because she was such a diminutive little thing. Julie was well below the height of even an average size girl. Guys just seemed so much bigger and stronger, at times even threatening, albeit none had ever really said or done anything threatening.
It probably also had something to do with how she was raised, or at least with respect to how she was raised by her mother. Her mother was rather neurotic about all sorts of things. She had been very overprotective, insecure, and uncertain about most everything, a nervous attitude that became particularly evident when it came to guys and dating.
It certainly wasn't because she wasn't interested in guys. On the contrary, she would at times have the most wicked dreams, the kind that you really wouldn't tell anyone, not even your best friend. They embarrassed even her, especially because she would be so warm and moist between her thighs when she woke up.
Julie had to admit that being a teacher of boys and girls much younger, and littler, than herself was appealing in part because she would be comfortably in charge. She would be the big person, the dominant authority. This was not, of course, the primary reason she so much wanted to be a teacher, but she figured that it probably did at least play some small role.
She always smiled when she imagined finally becoming a real teacher. She hoped to return to her hometown in Charlottesville, Virginia, teaching in the school in which she was originally inspired. Maybe even Mr. Sacks would still be there! That would be so cool. He could take her under his wing once again, showing her the ropes. But, given the job market, she couldn't really hope for that. She would just be grateful to have a job; actually, she would be ecstatic to be a teacher no matter where she was.
In any case, she didn't look forward to having her first real pupil be a full grown man. Well, actually a young man, but only a year younger than her! How could she ever convey any sense of authority or respect?
He would clearly be in need of her help and guidance, at least when it came to math. He would have to recognize her authority with respect to the subject matter. That was important to remember, at least she kept telling herself, after she would imagine all the many different ways it could go terribly wrong, which was pretty much how her mother thought about most everything.
As the day approached for her first tutoring session she grew more and more nervous, but excited as well. This would be her first pupil! That was a pretty momentous event in the life of a teacher. She did so hope that it would go well. Goodness, what if she failed? What if he failed?
Her pupil would be Arnold Woodman, who had failed first semester introductory algebra. He always had difficulty with math, and would not be able to continue at Livingston College unless he completed successfully the initial introductory courses. His parents were desperate. They pleaded for help from the college.
Julie could be the person who would save the day and perhaps even turn his life around, making it possible for him to complete his college education and accomplish goodness knows what else over the course of the rest of his life! Gracious, imagine if one day he became President of the United States and at his inaugural address thanked her, Julie Kaplan, for being the one who recognized his potential, who didn't give up on him, who was there for him when he really needed the help. Being a teacher can be so fulfilling.
Julie had difficulty not arriving at his house early. She just wanted to get started so badly. It had been very difficult deciding what to wear. She knew that the initial impression can be very important, particularly with the parents. She decided that a business-like, professional appearance would be best. Better to err on the side of too much formality than too little, particularly on the first visit. Plus, a business suit would convey greater authority. She did though wear a frilly pink silk blouse beneath the dark business jacket. It would be nice to have a bit of femininity. That always made her feel more comfortable. Being entirely formal and stiff would make her feel unnatural and uncomfortable. It was as important to feel at ease during the first session as it was to appear professional, two goals that are not entirely compatible. In any case, one could only see the blouse's frilly collar. The rest was hidden beneath the plain, black jacket.
Of course, such an outfit also required pantyhose and heels. Julie was not a big fan of pantyhose. She would on occasion wear pantyhose, at formal college functions, weddings, and other special events, but certainly not on a regular basis. She found it too dressy. She did though admit that she kind of liked the feel, so silky and smooth. Plus, it made her feel rather womanly and mature.
Heels, though, were another matter. Julie most definitely didn't like them. Her ankles and toes would eventually hurt, plus she just found them so awkward to walk in. What sense did it make to walk on one's toes? She appreciated that heels sharpened the curves of her legs, as well as her bottom, but that was not of much interest to her, and certainly wouldn't be a matter of any importance while tutoring.
However, heels also made her look a bit taller, and certainly more professional. She would wear them, at least for the first night.
She left for the house a half hour early, wanting to make sure that she would not arrive late. When she pulled up to the house she was a good 15 minutes early, which was almost as bad as being five minutes late. So, she drove past, parked the car, and killed some time by going over her lesson notes.
When enough time appeared to have gone by she started up the car and headed back down the street.
Her heart beat so fast as she made her way up the driveway. It was difficult to control her nerves, as well as her heels. It seemed like almost every other step she would stumble a bit. How bad it would be to actually fall, perhaps even tear a nylon. She sure hoped that the den in which they would be working would not be far from the front door.
When she got to the door she took a deep breath, rang the bell, and put a big confident smile on her face. Nothing though felt more foreign.
She had little reason to be nervous though. Mr. and Mrs. Woodman were as pleased with her arrival as she was apprehensive. Mrs. Woodman smiled broadly as she greeted Julie.
"Miss Julie Kaplan, we are so pleased to see you. Please, please, come in!"
Julie's smile became more relaxed, more natural. It was good to feel so welcome, and appreciated. "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Woodman, I'm Julie Kaplan. I'm going to be Arnold's tutor." She had rehearsed those lines quite a number of times.
Mr. Woodman smiled at her formality. "Oh, please, call me Alex, and this," he added, pulling the reluctant young man forward, "is our eager young scholar, Arnold."
Julie thought how funny it would be to call Mr. Woodman by his first name. He was old enough to be her father.
Arnold didn't look that eager. He didn't say anything.
"Say hello to Julie, now, Arnold. Show some manners."
He reluctantly held out his hand. "Hello, Miss Kaplan. I'm glad to meet you."
"And," Julie said in response, shifting her lesson book to her left hand as she reached out to eagerly shake his, "I'm very pleased to meet you."
He did look kind of young. She was pleased with that. And, even more importantly, he was rather short for a guy. He was still most definitely taller than her, but not so much that she would likely find him terribly imposing. She was very glad though that she had decided to wear heels.
He also seemed to be a bit shy. It was clearly better for a student to be timid and shy than oppositional and defiant, but this still could be a problem. Nevertheless, she had already completed an educational psychology course, so she felt that she would be up for the challenge.
"Well, Arnold," Mrs. Woodman suggested, "isn't your new teacher the cutest little thing?"
Arnold rolled his eyes, his face reddening. "Yes, mother," he quietly acknowledged.
It was a fact. Julie was indeed very, very cute. She had wavy blonde hair that rested gracefully on her shoulders, sparkling green eyes, long wavy lashes, a perky little nose, red rosy cheeks, and the most engaging, endearing smile, that typically revealed a couple of girlish dimples. Her breasts were rather small, and this has been a source of some disappointment, even embarrassment, for her, but on such a petite frame they were really quite, well, as her mother put it, adorable.
Nevertheless, having his mother point out that she was cute, out loud, was a bit embarrassing for Arnold. Julie's initial impression of Arnold was correct. He was as uncomfortable around girls as she was around guys, and it really didn't help that his tutor would in fact be so pretty and attractive. Of course, no guy would ever really complain about such a thing. It does help the pain of learning mathematics to have one's eyes bask in the pleasure of a pretty teacher as she pontificated over some boring formula. But Arnold also found it a bit intimidating. This girl was clearly out of his league.
Julie was herself embarrassed, and frustrated, by Mrs. Woodman's compliment. No girl minds being told that she is pretty, but at the moment she would have preferred they comment upon her skills and qualifications as an instructor, rather than how cute she was.
"Well, Julie," Mrs. Woodman continued, oblivious to how either party reacted to her comment, "Would you like something to drink?"
"Oh no, Mrs. Woodman. I'm fine."
"I have some fresh lemonade," she continued, "I made it myself."
Julie had been uncertain what Mrs. Woodman meant by a drink. She was not old enough to drink, of course, but perhaps Arnold's mother didn't realize that. She was not about to correct her, as it was fine with her if they didn't realize how young she really was. On the other hand, it was rude to decline something innocent that a parent had probably made especially for her. "Oh, yes," Julie replied, her enthusiasm evident in her voice, "that sounds lovely!"
Mrs. Woodman was pleased. She did feel that she made good lemonade.
Arnold again rolled his eyes. His mother was such a mother. Still, he had to admit, he also liked her lemonade, albeit he wouldn't admit it.
Mrs. Woodman suggested, "why don't the two of you get set up in Arnold's bedroom and I'll bring it up, along with some fresh ginger cookies."
'Ginger cookies'! Arnold could not be more embarrassed. "Yes, mother, alright..." Arnold reluctantly agreed, and made his way down the hall to the stairway to his bedroom.
His bedroom? That was a little surprising to Julie. She had assumed that the tutoring would occur in some office or a den. Well, there will always be many twists and turns to a lesson plan. One needs to roll with the punches. Julie followed after him, trying to walk quickly to catch up but finding that a bit difficult in her heels.
Mrs. Woodman scowled a bit at her son, who was not being particularly patient or polite with his tutor.
However, Arnold did realize once he reached the stairs that he should not have just taken off for his room, leaving his tutor scampering along behind him. He stopped and waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, and then gestured for her to proceed on ahead. One should always let the woman go first.
Julie smiled in appreciation. This was at least some gesture of respect.
However, as soon as she began to walk up the stairs she realized that she probably would have preferred that he go first. Her bottom, tightly encased in her business skirt, was probably swaying back and forth right in front of his face. She dared not imagine what little show she was inadvertently providing as she proceeded up the stairs, her steps now even more gingerly given the difficulty in navigating in her heels the tight steps and carpeting. There was at least a railing that helped her keep her balance.
Arnold was most definitely enjoying the show. He had not let her go first in order to watch the swinging of her bottom, but he quickly appreciated the benefit and took full advantage. At times his eyes were just an inch or two away. It was so tempting to just pretend to slip and let his face fall right into those tight wiggling cushions.
"Oh my!" Julie suddenly exclaimed as she lost her footing and fell back, her bottom quickly making contact with her student's face, as if she was intentionally sitting right on his nose and mouth. She grabbed the railing more tightly with one hand and braced herself with the other against the wall, but it was too little too late as her butt rested on her student's face.
Arnold, being the young gentleman that he was, reached up to help his tutor avoid falling further. Of course if she did fall she would have likely taken him down the stairs with her. In any case, one hand went to her slim, petite waist, the other to her hip. He held her tightly as she regained her balance, but did not remove his face from her butt, which was of course providing further support as she reestablished her footing.
Julie's face flushed red as she shifted her feet, her bottom wriggling against the young man's nose. "Sorry," she quietly mumbled.
Arnold's cock swelled in his slacks as he basked in the pleasure of the soft round squishiness of Julie's bottom pressed against his face, his hands clutching the small, shapely curves of her waist. It wasn't like he was actually having sex with her, but it was the closest he could expect to come to having sex with a girl as pretty as Julie. "That's alright, Miss Kaplan," he responded as her bottom pulled away from his lips. "I've tripped on these stairs myself."
It was nice to hear that the fault was as much the stairs as her own, but Julie still felt that she was not starting off on the right foot, quite literally so. She made her way more slowly and carefully up the rest of the remaining stairs, a fact that did not go unappreciated by Arnold, who was now effectively provided a poetry of movement in slow motion.
By the time they reached the top of the stairs he was fully erect, which effectively shifted the potential embarrassment from Julie onto him, as he realized that it would not be a particularly good idea for her to notice his stiffness. He reached into his pocket with his left hand, grabbed hold of his stiff dick, and pressed it firmly against his abdomen.
Julie waited for him at the top of the stairs to direct her to his room, which he signaled awkwardly with his right hand that it was the first door around the stairs.
"Yes, yes, of course," she replied, noticing his rather odd manner of gesturing.
She made her way into his room. It was at least very nicely cleaned, although that was probably due to his mother. His desk was well prepared, with his algebra book opened to the correct chapter, a pad of paper and pencil sitting in front of it, with half-completed solutions, along with a calculator and a computer.
The lessons, however, did not go that well. Julie felt that she said all the right things, or at least had provided excellent instruction and guidance, but Arnold never seemed to absorb or retain much of anything. At times he hardly seemed to be listening at all. Frankly, if she was to be entirely honest in her progress notes, his eyes were fixed more on her legs than the pages of his text. She repeatedly had to draw his attention back to a formula, an algebraic proof, as his eyes would clearly wander.
It was at times rather disconcerting. She wondered if this was a problem for most female teachers. Do all boys ogle their teachers? She imagined it must be true. It was perhaps only natural. Boys will be boys, and it would seem only natural that they admire and enjoy the sight of the pretty curves of their teacher's body. But it was still difficult for her to accept.
Well, this did at least reaffirm her intention to teach much younger boys and girls.
When a pencil slipped from the desk she went to retrieve it before it rolled too far under the bed. She should have let Arnold get it, as she knew that her bottom was again putting on quite the show as she got down on her knees, her face to the floor, her tush rising up, as she reached for the pencil beneath the bed. She was at least glad that she had not worn a short skirt, but she could feel how tightly it was wrapping and stretching around her derriere.
She wondered if she should mention this to her supervisor, Mr. Kutter. However, even the thought of doing so made her blush.
The lemonade and cookies though were pretty darned good, but she felt guilty enjoying them. She didn't deserve any special treats for this evening's work.
When they were finished she was not happy, and the subsequent grade on his homework confirmed her fears and doubts.
Nor did it seem to get any better over the next few weeks. She tried being more stern, more authoritative, more critical. She tried being more favorable, more accommodating, more complimentary. Nothing seemed to help.
This was really quite disappointing, as well as embarrassing. His failure was her failure, and it was particularly distressing being the failure of her very first pupil, her only pupil, and right under the watchful eyes of his parents and her supervisor, with whom she had to review Arnold's homework scores each week. She hated to think how Arnold would do on the first test. At the rate they were proceeding he would most likely fail. She would be humiliated, and devastated.