Trevor and His Teacher

The class of seniors wrote their essays furiously, racing against the clock. Miss Smith paced the rows to discourage cheating but mainly to be of ready assistance. She walked the aisles of seats, her high heels clicking against the floor. Being the Friday before spring break, the high schoolers' minds would quickly shift from Shakespeare to the beach.

She stopped at the front of one of the rows and looked down at the student sitting directly in front of her: Trevor Hampton. He had been hunched over his desk the entire class period, writing madly. She watched him finish writing the last sentence. Then he glanced up at Miss Smith with his sky blue eyes and gave her a quick smirk. It was his signature move--wait until he felt her presence near him, look up, and give an eat-shit-and-grin look as if to say, "I fucking nailed your assignment." She couldn't remember a time that he didn't do it. She appreciated his willingness to take on her timed writing challenges and smash the fuck out of them. Knock them out of the park. Blow her mind. (She wanted to blow his mind.) He was highly intelligent, contributed during lectures, paid extra attention by staying after class and making light conversation about the piece of literature they'd read. Not only was he her best student; he was her favorite one, too.

He was taller than she was--even when she wore her heels. He wore his hair short, and most of the time he wore deck shoes and khaki shorts. He had a tight, squeezable ass, and his eyes made her knees weak. She knew what a fuckable young man he was turning out to be, maturing quickly. He had sex appeal, and it attracted the high school girls. His current girlfriend was also in the class, and when it came to him, she was giddy. She was a silly girl, giggling too loudly at his jokes, and always taking selfies. They were almost always together. He was either talking about Dungeons and Dragons with the nerds or talking football with the jocks. Everyone liked him. He hadn't always had sex appeal. He had slept through her sophomore English class and basically didn't give a fuck about school. But something changed, and so did his physique. He went from a scrawny, shy sophomore to a sexy, confident senior.

The timer on her watch sounded and, looking away from Trevor, she announced that time was up and for them to put their pens down. She gathered the essays just in time for the final bell of the day.

Trevor lingered behind as everyone filed out of the classroom boisterously, ready for their break. He stood beside his desk. He was wearing a clean T-shirt that showed his chest and jeans that made her look at his crotch. His hair was light brown and kept trim.

"So, Miss Smith, do you have any exciting plans for your break?"

"Spending way too much time in the library, but maybe I'll have time to stick my nose in a book." She, herself, would spend some time grading those timed writings and the other part in the library conducting research for an upcoming summer conference where she would present on Teaching Literature in the Digital Age.

"Me, too," he added, "--the library. I got a sneak peak at the syllabus for my first college classes in the fall, and I'll be reading two of the texts to stay ahead." A head. She'd like to give him head. Right there. Her thoughts were unusually naughty so she had to look away from him and pretend to organize a few items on her desk: put all the pencils and pens in a coffee mug on her desk, pick up the stack of timed writings and tap them on the desk into a perfect, symmetrical pile.

"I would think you'd be playing Dungeons and Dragons or hanging out with the football team."

"Well, Miss Smith, football ended in January," he chuckled. "And my D&D companions are taking a long rest--in South Florida."

"Ah," she spoke embarrassingly. She was trying too hard again, she told herself.

"Have a relaxing spring break, Miss Smith," he said in a deep, silky voice. "Maybe I'll see you at the library."

He headed for the door, his notebook tucked at his side, his strong hand cradling it. She'd like to run her hands over his ass, unzip his zipper and pull out his cock. She had to get herself together.

She tucked the timed writings into her satchel, threw the bag over her shoulder, turned out the lights and stared across the room. The room would be quiet and dark for the next 9 days. She liked that idea of peace and solitude--and she looked forward to it a little herself.

That night she rewarded herself by buying a bottle of champagne. It was spring break afterall. When she got home she drew a hot bubble bath and poured herself a tall glass. She undressed and got in, the warm water caressing her legs, her hips, her breasts. She needed this break, she thought. Needed to draw a hard line between the past and the future--the past that involved a long ass winter and taxing school year and the future that involved summer and Todd and fucking and being with colleagues that loved Shakespeare as much as she did. She soaked in the tub and sipped her champagne before the water turned tepid, then she rinsed off and pulled her silk robe around herself.

Her satchel sat on the table just inside the front door, and she felt it calling to her. She opened it and pulled out the stack of papers, shuffled through them until she found Trevor's. It was titled "The Role of Sex in Shakespeare's The Tempest." He had written about sex. She laughed. Of course he did. She sat down with the last of the champagne and read through his paper. Just the thought that she was holding the same paper he'd been hunched over for almost an hour made her wet. He'd breathed on the paper, touched the paper, put his thoughts down about puns, metaphors, innuendos, and the theme of sex on this paper. Did her interest in him border on obsession? It was only a fantasy. It wasn't illegal. Unethical? Maybe.

When she was naked under the covers, she imagined Trevor. In this fantasy he was leaning against her classroom desk, and he slowly pulled her over to embrace him. Then he was tugging her skirt and panties down; she imagined him sitting down in her desk chair and motioning for her to sit on his lap; then she was straddling him.

Her hand ran down her nightgown and between her legs; she was already wet.

Then she imagined him pulling out his young cock and rubbing it against her clit, over and over. She imagined being his first, though that was realistically unlikely. His girlfriend had a reputation. So she imagined teaching him a few things he didn't already know about sex, like how to make her cum with only his tongue. The thought of his face between her legs quickly sent her into an orgasm.

That night she dreamed of him being so close to her that she could feel his breath on her skin. It was a fantasy, she told herself. She wouldn't and couldn't have any relations with Trevor outside of class unless she wanted to lose her job. But the thought of fucking him occupied her every thought as she got up and made breakfast. Her dreams had felt so real that she swore she could smell him on her skin.

She showered and then pulled on a sundress that tied around the waist. She wanted to be comfortable at the library. In the office of her house, she gathered together the notebooks full of ideas for her conference paper. She felt inspired: she'd been making notes throughout the most recent Shakespeare unit and would finally have a solid week of nothing but peace to write the paper. She was reminded of how many school days were left until summer, how soon she would see Todd, and how quickly they would fall in bed together.

Each summer she presented on a new theme and hooked up with the same married professor--Todd. She and the professor emailed about teaching, literature, and writing throughout the year, but once a year they met at the same conference, sat on a panel together, then proceeded to skip most of the rest of the conference in order to fuck and drink whisky. He'd often spoken about how fucking amazing it would be for them to live in the same town, and she reminded him that it would cause him too much trouble. They could never keep their hands off each other once they were alone in her hotel room, and their emails were always laced with innuendos, so the two of them in the same city would not be something either of them could control. Their once-a-year tryst was something she could control. She sent a quick email to him letting him know she was on break working and thinking about the conference coming up. Maybe he'd email back and offer guidance or even his free editing services. That would get her mind off of Trevor, channel her naughty thoughts elsewhere.

After gathering some study snacks of peanuts and crackers, she headed to the university library. She imagined running into Trevor there, but then she dismissed the idea as silly. She was definitely obsessed. Immediately she got an email notification. It was Todd. He too was on break and thought it fortunate that they could spend most of their break corresponding. It wasn't something they got to do much--write back and forth throughout the day. It was going to be a good break, she thought.

The community college library was empty and quiet when she arrived. She found her favorite table open and quickly put her notebooks and laptop down. The table sat close to a wide window through which she could see the campus courtyard, the small coffee shop off to the left and the location where the hot dog vendor would set up later in the day. She created an outline in an online document, organized her notes based on the outline, then proceeded to do the actual writing. She was halfway through the third page of the document when she finally took a pause, stood up, walked to the window, and gazed out. The blue sky against the green grass of the courtyard made her think about being home in her garden, but she was content to hack away at her conference paper. She'd have enough time later in the week, she thought.

"Hi," a voice behind her exclaimed. She turned and saw Trevor standing at her table. She swept her arm through the air in a half circle of a wave, then she took her fingers to her lips and mimed a "Sh."

"Hi," he repeated in a whisper. He was wearing an Oxford shirt and khaki shorts with his deck shoes. He was cradling a stack of history books against his side. "Just wanted to say hi. I think we are the only two people here this early."

Her chest felt flushed and she didn't know what to do. Her mind turned to thoughts that somehow he knew she'd been thinking about him. "Trevor, I hoped to see you."

"Really?" His face gave a quizzical look. "Why?" She couldn't respond because she couldn't say anything at first. Why did she even have to admit that? What could she come up with?

"Your paper--" she blurted. "It was complex... and advanced for a high school paper. I just hoped to hear what else you had to say on the topic." She paused waiting for him to respond, but he didn't. "But, that could take all afternoon," she confessed. At this she imagined one thing leading to the other until they were in bed together. Another fantasy. She didn't force an invitation for him to join her, but he set his books down on her table and looked at her reassuringly.

"I have to read about the first half of western civilization, and it would be nice to put it off to talk about Shakespeare."

They sat directly across from each other at the table, she looking toward the window, he looking toward her and the stacks behind her. She couldn't stop thinking how awkward it would be if someone walked by and saw them. She was his teacher, and being together outside of school would not reflect well on her. It was a small town, and people talked.

"I really did enjoy reading your paper," she reiterated. "I learned a few things I didn't know. How do you know so much about the topic?" She kept getting distracted by him sitting across from her. Everything about him was sexy--his eyes, his lips, his hands.

He pointed to the aisle behind her. "I like to read. Just imagine--books about Shakespeare in a library!" He let out a "ha" then teased her. "Do you believe me? Would you like to see the section?"

"Books about Shakespeare? I've never seen that section, Trevor," she teased.

"I just thought you'd like to see which books helped me write my paper."

She paused for what seemed like too long, then looked into his eyes dead serious. She was already having trouble keeping her brain on the topic. Sure, she would follow him into the dark aisle of books.

He entered the aisle first and looked back at her as if to be sure she was still following him. She couldn't believe it herself--being that close to him, close enough that she could smell his skin.

When they got halfway down the aisle he stopped and turned to face a section labeled English Poetry. "This is a good section, too," he said.

When he turned around and made eye contact with her, he took her face in his hands and began kissing her. One minute they were innocently walking and then her lips were on his, and then he had his tongue on hers. One hand dropped from her face and ran over the front of her dress, caressing her breasts. She ran her hands over his shorts. She could feel his bulge. She ran her other hand over his tight ass. He began hiking up her skirt, running his hands over her panties in the front then the back.

She had noticed that there were a few early risers moving around on this floor of the library, so she'd have to stop soon, but she let it happen. She wrapped her arms around him and ran her hands over his back, feeling his shoulder blades and lower back inside his shirt. She slid her hands down into the front of his pants and found he wasn't wearing underwear, and his cock was engorged. She felt him in her hand: hard, large, and ready. Her entire body pulsed with the electricity between them. He tugged at her panties and let them drop to her knees. With her entire hand wrapped around his cock, she began massaging it, up then down. She wanted it in her mouth, inside her, in every way. He reached under her skirt again and, without her panties, he felt her wetness and her softness. It wasn't like in her dream--it was more intense. She craved his cock inside her. He kissed her lips and kept his face close to hers. Her knees were weak with longing.

"I've watched you all year, and you've watched me," she said. "I could see it in your eyes that you wanted me. You wanted this." Then she moved his hand back to her wetness. He let out a deep moan. She went back to moving her hand up and down on his cock. She had wanted him. She really did, but this was dangerous. He was so much younger than she was, and she was, she reminded herself, his teacher until June.

"Perhaps we should stop and think about this?" she confessed, a bit embarrassed.

He kept kissing her neck and shoulders. "Definitely not. If we do, we'll change our minds."

"If we are going to do this, I don't think this is the right place." She looked over his shoulder. "Too many people."

"We could go to your place," he suggested. That wasn't going to work for her. She didn't bring men home. Too personal.

"We could go to the school," she suggested. "Or..."

She pulled away from him and looked around. She thought she had an idea. She took his hand to lead him down the aisle toward the study carrels--the small, soundproof rooms at the far end of the library. She pulled him inside the one at the far end, the least likely to be used due to its proximity to the stacks. Their eyes locked and he moved toward her, lifting her up off her feet and onto the study desk. He parted her legs and ran his hand over her, then took his fingers to his lips. "You taste sweet," he said. She kissed his lips and reached down into his shorts to take his cock into her hands, unzipping him with the other hand. When his pants fell she maneuvered herself to her knees and then took the tip of his cock to her mouth. When she began sucking on him, he shivered. Stroking his young cock with her tongue she thought about how pure and perfect it was. She took him completely in her mouth and jacked him off with her hand. "No one's ever sucked my cock like that," he breathed quietly. He gave another shudder. She could tell that she could make him cum too easily, so she stood back up and pulled him toward her.

She rubbed his cock against her so he could feel her wetness and tease him. She could normally tease like this for quite a while, but she wanted him inside her, so much so that she couldn't think rationally. She made herself believe no one would walk by, no one would know or find out, that it was a good idea, that after this they would part ways and never speak of it. She was in it deep by this point. No turning back.

When he slid inside her, she gasped. His cock felt tremendous. He didn't move it in or out--just stared down at her. Her eyes begged him to fuck her now. He slid out slowly and teased her clit with the tip of his cock. His lips were against hers, his other hand pinched one nipple over her dress. "Please? Fuck me now." She squirmed, moaned, then begged. "Please fuck me." His lips came to hers and they kissed. "Fuck me. I need you inside me." He slid inside her, back out completely, then stopped. "More," she pleaded. "Please don't stop." He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled it down so that her face was looking straight up at him.

"I'll fuck you when I'm ready," he asserted. "Right now I'm enjoying teasing you." He teased her some more, slowly, gently fucking her pussy. And as soon as he started really fucking her she came, grabbing ahold of his ass hard with her nails. It was delightful cumming on his cock, and she begged him to keep fucking her. "Oh, my God," she panted as she spasmed. "I've never cum that quickly." He kept fucking her but even faster. He came, too, surprising her. They panted together, holding each other close, exchanging kisses and an extra thrust to force the orgasms to last. When the two had come down from their ecstasy, he asked, "When can we do this again? I want to fuck you for hours."

She just let her head drop onto his chest and kept muttering to herself, "I'm going to get in so much trouble."

"I want to fuck you in the classroom."

No one would be there over break, she thought. If she fucked him again, she reasoned, she'd want to keep fucking him--and at some point they'd get caught. But his young hard cock in her pussy felt intoxicating.

He had parked his truck at the baseball fields down the street from the school and was waiting for her. He was early, but it was already dark, so she didn't worry about anyone seeing his truck. It had been several days since she'd seen him in the library, but she was getting anxious, in a good way. When she pulled up alongside him, he got out and walked around to her window. He slid his hand over her cheek and under her chin, lifting it slightly. He went in for a quick kiss. "Are you sure you're ok with this?" he joked. The thought crossed her mind that he was cheating on his girlfriend, but it was not a thought that lingered.

"Oh, yes," she mouthed, her lips glossy and pink. He walked around the side of her car and got in. Immediately they began kissing, unable to restrain themselves, their hands all over each other. His mouth was on hers, kissing her fully, his tongue teasing hers. "Let's get going," she persuaded him.

Outside the door to the classroom she fumbled with the keys. "Sorry," she said. "I guess I'm just a little nervous about coming here." Inside, once the door closed, he grabbed her and pinned her against the wall, holding her hands above her head with one hand. With the other hand he began feeling her breasts over her clothes.

She looked at him square in the face. "No. This isn't the way I do things. We aren't getting anywhere until you learn your place." His facial expression changed from confident to confused. She smirked at him.