Teen Stud and the School Therapist

I was about to leave work early when my phone rang. It was one of the school administrators. They also served as my secretaries. "Mr. Caldwell? A student is here to see you." No, I hadn't seen this student before. The student hadn't wanted to describe his issue with the admin and instead wanted to speak to me directly.

My name was Sam Caldwell and I worked as a therapist at Thompson High School. Thompson was in quite a nice area of town, which resulted in a school full of spoiled rich kids and incredible amenities such as...well...a full time therapist. I had gone to Harvard for undergrad and Stamford for my PhD in psychology before spending four years in one of the most sought after residency programs in the country. My credentials were, therefore, stellar. Why, given the options available to me, was I at a high school listening to rich kids complain about their parents not understanding their desire to "break the mold"? Well...that was a question I often wondered.

The simplest answer was that...well...the money was incredible. Straight out of residency (now two years ago) Thompson offered me a shocking amount of money to work as their in-school therapist. The school had had a tragic, and somewhat public, attempt at suicide (thankfully the student hadn't succeeded and was now getting much needed help), and one of the ways the school addressed the incident was to hire me.

The true answer, though, was that in spite of all the petty complaining about not making the cheer squad and parents refusing to buy the latest BMW model, I was passionate about my work. I cared about these kids and took seriously the trust that they, their parents, and the school put in me. While there were some rotten eggs, many of the students were wonderful, and even the ones that weren't wonderful brought with them interesting and challenging work when they walked through my door. My fellow staff told me that my passion and sincerity was recognized by everyone I interacted with and I saw that, after only two years at the school, I was well liked and universally respected.

However, the past few months had been difficult for me, for personal reasons. About a year prior I had begun a relationship with one of the teachers at school. She was a biology teacher and had a sweet and calm demeanor that I found incredibly attractive. She also had a subtle and commanding intelligence. She wasn't boastful or aggressive about it, but it was a rare for her not know the answer to a question and she had a quiet way of showing that even the simplest question can open up a world of difficult nuances and issues. With a degree in biology and teaching from Yale, her credentials were as impressive as mine.

Of course it also helped that she was an absolute knockout. She had light brown eyes, a small button nose, and a wide smile with perfect white teeth. Her bright beautiful face was covered densely in freckles, the tiny imperfections serving only to accentuate her beauty. Her long wavy hair was stark red and luscious, flowing down to the top of her breasts. And what breasts. Her baggy sweaters and white biology coat failed to hide the fact that they were heavy, large, and still amazingly perky. And her breasts were the only place in her body she carried extra weight. The rest of her was slim and toned. Having gotten to know her quite well, I knew she was self conscious about her butt - she thought it was a bit flat - but I assured her it was perfect.

I first heard about her through his student patients. She was universally admired. All the boys had crushes on her and all the girls looked up to her as a role model. And yet they also took her seriously and strove for her approval.

After seeing each other in hallways for a couple months, we finally spoke one day in the teachers lounge (I generally avoided it because I wasn't a teacher and didn't know what the protocol was). We had talked eagerly all lunch hour. Apparently she had been impressed with the things she'd heard about me as well. We hit it off and soon were spending most lunches eating together. We inspired one another with our intelligence and passion for the work we did for these students.

While relationships between teachers or teachers and staff wasn't disallowed, it was a sensitive subject. So neither she nor I had made a move for most of a year. But over a summer break, I finally got up the nerve to ask her out. We had gone out and had been together throughout the following school year and subsequent summer. Though we tried to hide their relationship at first, we finally gave in and informed the principal, and then the other teachers and staff.

Though we continued to hide it from the students, it was the schools worst kept secret. We were in love, and the students were our biggest fans. They saw that two of their favorite role models in school were seemingly destined to be together. Though I was pretty sure that all thought that I was dating-up looks-wise, they assured me that they thought we were a perfect match.

Therefore, after a 15 months of dating the woman of my dreams, I had been shocked and dismayed at the beginning of this school year to find that she appeared to be losing interest in me. She was getting more and more distant and I couldn't understand why. She would spend long hours at the gym but not invite me or explain her sudden urge to go. She did indicate that she was working on developing her butt.

Curiously, she also began to dress a lot more provocatively at school, wearing short tight shirts and low-cut blouses. I couldn't figure it out - she had always taken pains to de-sexualize herself at school. I asked her about it one day when she wore a tight full-body sweater made out of thin blue material. The sweater hugged her every curve and cut extremely low, showing off her impossible-to-miss cleavage. While she admittedly looked incredible, she seemed very uncomfortable to be wearing it. Not an eye in school could look away when she passed. When he asked, though, she insisted that nothing had changed (though she looked away and wouldn't make eye contact).

Finally, a week ago and after a couple months of torture, she had simply cut me off. She stopped eating lunch with me, avoided me in the halls, and didn't answer my increasingly desperate texts or calls.

Two days ago, I decided to go to her house to confront her. As I pulled up to her house I began to get out of my car. Then I stopped. Someone was walked up her patio - someone big. I stooped down and watched. The big man knocked twice on the front door and waited.

She opened the door in a black silk robe. I had bought that robe for her only a few months prior! The big man put his large arm around her waist and pulled her into him commandingly. She leaned into him eagerly and kissed him hard. It was clear she was passionate about this man, and to me it seemed their kiss lasted an eternity (though it was probably no more than half a minute). As they kissed, her hands roamed all over his wide shoulders and broad back. Then, the man appeared to guide one hand away from his back and to the front of his body. As her arm moved up and down, it was hard to imagine anything other than the fact that she was stroking his cock through his pants.

When they parted, I saw the look on her face and knew she was lost to me. It was a look of intense lust and adoration. She continued to stroke him as she gazed up at him. Then he said something and she grabbed his hand to pull him into her house. He turned around to close the door and the patio light fell on his face momentarily. The door closed and he disappeared. He was unmistakeable. Ryan Winters.

I was left completely shell-shocked, my mouth hanging open. My girlfriend (ex-girlfriend?), Sarah Daniels, was fucking a student at their school.

———

I had been lost and confused the past couple days over how to deal with this. My girlfriend - the woman I loved - was having an affair with one of her students, OUR student. What's more, I knew that Ryan was in Sarah's class because she had spoken about it.

Ryan, of course, had quite the reputation. He was the biggest and (widely acknowledged) best looking kid in the school, and had been for a few years. He was even bigger then almost any of the staff or faculty (though the large lunch lady could give him a run for his money on a scale). I also understood through speaking with faculty members that Ryan was from one of the wealthiest families in school. Though the school prided itself on not playing favorites to any student on any basis (it was technically a public school), the sheer fact that he was from the upper echelons in this school district said something.

He had a confidence about him that was at times off-putting, like he knew that the world would always answer to him. Truth was that it kind of did. All the students deferred to him. The girls swooned for him. I would even, to my disgust, occasionally catch some of the teachers stealing glances at him.

Sarah had gone through her newest class roster - Biology AP 2 - at the beginning of the year and Ryan's name was on it. Sarah had never spoken ill about any student but she did mention one lunch hour that she was a bit off-put by Ryan. She said he simply looked at her during the first class. He didn't look at what she was writing on the board or look at his text book during an assignment. He had just looked at her from the back of the room, a slight grin on his face. It had bothered her and after class she had asked him to come to her office later in the day.

And now...they were fucking. I wallowed in what I should do. Every fiber of my professional being wanted to report them. But every fiber of my personal being wanted to get Ryan expelled and protect Sarah. Those two desires were not compatible.

I was frozen. Filled with sorrow, jealousy, guilt, anger and confusion. Also shame...I was practically considered the school conscience. Teachers consulted them with their issues all the time, seeking my professional and personal advice. And yet here I was, considering spinning the truth, altering the harsh facts to better serve myself.

So...I was about to leave school early to wallow in my own self-pity and decide my next move, but the admin said a student was requesting to see him.

Sigh...responsibility first, Sam, I told myself.

"Okay, send them in. Oh, who is it?"

The admin giggled over the line. That was strange...the young woman was usually very professional. "Okay, I'm sending him back!"

"Tracy, who is it?"

The door to his office opened and he stepped in just as she responded.

"Oh, sorry, it's Ryan Winters."

———

I was shocked into silence. I stared at the door as the huge teenager walked casually into my office and towards my desk. Normally I made a practice out of meeting students at the door and welcoming them in, or at least standing up and shaking their hands across the desk. Instead, I silently stared at Ryan as he towered over my desk. He looked at me curiously, but didn't sit down.

I tried to get my composure. "What...what can I help you with today, Ryan?" My mind was desperately trying to catch up to my senses. Here was the kid who was having an affair with the woman I loved. And he had the audacity to come to my office? What did he think he was doing?

I felt my face flush red as the anger set in. I tried to reign it in. Maybe he didn't even know about me and Sarah, I thought. Let's wait to hear what he has to say, perhaps he wants to confess or apologize.

He answered, "Well I thought I'd better come in for an appointment. I've been a bit concerned with a few things that I've noticed about myself." Ryan's strong jawline flexed as he spoke.

I looked back at him, trying to hold my anger, conflict and anguish at bay. "Okay...well...would you like to perhaps make an appointment?"

"Ummm...how about right now?" He raised his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed. He grinned sheepishly. The sleeve of his white t-shirt slipped to his shoulder.

I could help but glance at his massive bicep. It flexed as he rubbed his neck. The definition of the large muscle was incredible. The outlines of his strong shoulder and huge pectoral muscle were apparent through his white shirt as well, his nipple pressing slightly against the soft fabric. Shit, how long had I been looking? I glanced back to his face. He was still grinning slightly.

"Umm...I guess..." I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. "But next time you'll have to...to make an appointment."

"Great, thanks." He continued to stand in front of me. As I looked up at him, I took in just how large he was. He filled my entire vision as his broad shoulders cut off my view of the rest of the room.

He asked, "So...can I sit down?"

I snapped to my senses. "YES...ahem...yes, of course. Please have a seat." I indicated to the chaise in the office. I knew it was cliche, but it was comfortable and good looking. We all have our small vices, I always told myself when I considered it.

Ryan sat down on the chaise, leaning back and lifting his legs out in front of him.

I took a deep breath, gathering my wits. Even with everything that was going on I knew how to block out my own emotions. This was my work. I was a professional.

"So, Ryan. How are you feeling today?"

"Honestly? I feel great."

Not the answer I generally heard for first-time appointments. "Oh...well that's good. Please go on."

"Oh, I don't know. Things are going well for me."

"How so?"

"Well, everything...and everyone...has kind of just been going my way lately. I mean there have been a few people who have put up fights, but they always...come around." He looked thoughtful for a moment as I fought to maintain my cool. "Maybe I can phrase it more eloquently...My goals and desires lately have seemed to be just in front of me, within arms length. All I need to do whenever I want to pluck one off the shelf is just reach out and take what is mine."

Like my girlfriend? The singular love of my life?...Stop it, I told myself, you are a professional.

"Well that's certainly a positive attitude, Ryan."

"Here's the thing, though. It's not an attitude. It's simple fact."

"I'm not sure I follow your meaning."

"I simply...get what I want. The world submits to my will." He looked at me and shrugged, like there was nothing he could do about it.

God this kid was cocky. "And this...frustrates you?"

He grinned. "No, actually, it's quite fun."

"So, what is it you'd like to talk about today then?"

"Well, because of all this, I do wonder whether I'm developing a god complex."

A god complex. There was no such thing. It was a term used more often in pop culture than in therapy offices. Sometimes it was associated with narcissistic personality disorder or other disorders having to do with an inflated sense of self. Bipolar patients sometimes experienced similar characteristics during manic phases. I made a mental note to keep these possibilities in mind.

"I see. Please tell me more." I was proud of how professional I was being, especially given the context. I began to think that I could find a way to resolve all this and come out stronger for it.

"Sure, maybe it'd be better if I just give you some examples. Would that help?"

"Certainly."

"Well for some time now, years, I've noticed that I seem to have a strong effect on people. They get flustered around me because they can't seem to deal with their feelings for me."

"Their feelings for you?"

"This...this is all private, right? You're not allowed to speak of this outside of...here?"

"Yes, this conversation is covered by confidentiality. You need not worry about that."

"Okay, then. Well a good example is my sister."

"Your...sister?"

"All my life she had been a massive bitch to me - always dismissing me and ignoring me. But in the past two or three years I've noticed that her attitude towards me changed. She begun to seem nervous, somehow. She would still fling insults at me but she also seemed to be flustered or confused around me. I noticed her eyes would wander whenever she was around me. She couldn't seem to maintain eye contact."

He paused and I waiting patiently for him to continue, careful to maintain eye contact myself.

"I realized that she was constantly staring at my body, like she was mesmerized or something. Her behaviour was similar to what I had begun to experience all over the place...but this was my sister..."

"So I started testing it. I would walk around the house without a shirt on or with just boxers on. She couldn't keep her eyes off me, going glassy-eyed while staring at my body. I began to give her orders. Little things at first, like getting me a glass of water, but it escalated to making her make me food and run errands for me. She always had a snarky comment but I found, especially when I was wearing less clothing, that she would give in easily."

"Then she went to grad school and things slowed down for a few months. But she came back for a long weekend and it was then that I began having her suck my dick."

He said it so quickly, so casually, that it caught me totally off guard. Without meaning to, I blurted out "What!?"

He just shrugged. "I began walking around the house completely naked and she just couldn't stand it. She was practically following me around, hoping for glimpses of my big dick. She still tried to maintain this bitchy outer shell but she had become putty in my hands. One day I stood in front of her naked and told her I was bored...well, she tried to stop herself but I didn't even say anything more before she was on her knees, licking my cock. She kept asking me if it was okay. I just laughed"

I was dumbfounded. "Ryan...you can't...she can't..."

"Why not? Is really that bad? I mean...I enjoy it, making her submit to me. She certainly enjoys it, enjoys my body and my cock. That boyfriend of hers wasn't giving her what she needed, obviously."

He shifted to look at me, propping up his leg on the far side of the chaise and turning his hips towards me as he faced me. Almost of their own volition, my eyes traveled down his body. His giant upper body was practically fully visible through the thin white t-shirt. The fabric hugged his massive pecs and sloped in, revealing his powerful core. The shirt rippled with muscle pressing against it. Ryan dropped his hands to his hips and the pressure pulled his dark grey sweatpants tight around his waist. Between his wide strong legs, pressed against the expensive fabric of his designer sweat pants, was something thick and impossibly long. My eyes traveled very slowly along the outline of that thick shaft as it draped itself over the leg closer to me. It ran along the leg...further and further...when would it end...it...Oh shit.

I glanced up, afraid what Ryan might think. But he had shifted his gaze and was looking up at the ceiling again. He went on.

"Anyways, that's just an example. Another one is...well...maybe I shouldn't..." He glanced at me.

I took a deep breath, calming myself. "This is a safe space, Ryan. You need not censor yourself here."

"Well...okay. There's this teacher..."

My ears began pounding in my head. "A...teacher...?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice controlled.

"Yeah...things kind of just happened. She'd asked to see me after class. She started lecturing me about focusing on the lesson plan or something but even then I was distracted. And I told her why—that she was just too sexy to focus on anything else. I walked up close to her and asked her if she found me distracting at all. She didn't know what to do with that. Well...pretty soon she was sitting in my lap, kissing me, her hands all over me as I sucked on those glorious huge titties. She's super fine. Beautiful red hai...oh...I guess I shouldn't say more. But anyways, within a couple of days I was fucking her. Lunch hours, detentions, you name it."