Married woman tells about her date with her husband's boss.
Once trust was established, as well as who was in control, they'd gotten along beautifully.
Bang on the dot at eight o'clock, he called the rehearsal to a halt and told them they'd done a good job.
"I could use a ride home," said Hillary. She looked at the music teacher, her sly smile about as subtle as a hand grenade, and Jake immediately looked at Stan.
"Got room for one more? You're taking David home, right?"
"Sure!" Stan's voice was hearty and welcoming. Inwardly he rolled his eyes. What a tramp.
"Sorry, I have another promise to keep," Jake told Hillary.
Craig somberly packed up his axe. He could have given her a ride, but somehow he doubted she'd accept, especially since it would be just the two of them in his car. He sighed. It was a painful lesson to learn that not all screwups magically went away. Time could not race forward. Neither could he turn back the clock.
Alone at last in his bachelor pad, Jacob permitted himself to think of the blonde high school senior who was either developing a crush on him, or simply playing with fire to see what would happen. He reminded himself of who he was: a teacher who honestly cared about the welfare of his students.
At the same time, her faint perfume curled its cachet in his brain. He wondered if she shaved her pubic hair and rather hoped not. How sweet it would be to bury his face in that golden down, the pale skin of her adolescent thighs rubbing against his weathered cheek.
Fifty-five. She probably thinks I'm an old man. He set aside the internal voice that warned of folly, even disaster, and let his mind wander down the path. Was she a virgin? He could feel her firm, round ass in his palms as he teased her. In fantasy he lipped at the edges of her golden triangle, pulling lightly at the curling hairs.
"Don't tease me!"
He didn't answer her cry. He merely demonstrated that he would satisfy her when he was good and ready. The feminine odor grew stronger as he breathed a warm current of air over her mons. Her labia swelled as he watched, the fat pink folds beginning to shine. Ever so lightly he ran a finger up one outer lip.
He glanced up at his pupil. A sheen of sweat coated her velvety skin. Her breasts bounced as she writhed, breathlessly panting out want and need. Soon he would take her beautiful young tits in his mouth, but first ...
One hard finger pressed halfway into her saturated folds. The sharp involuntary flex of her back brought her shoulders up. The spasm of quivering female muscle around his digit, the accompanying gush, left no doubt in his mind that she'd jumped the first hurdle.
"That was good, Hillary. Very good," he praised her.
"Fuck me, please fuck me ... "
"Not yet, little one. You still have much to learn." And he spread her pink petals and went to work with his tongue...
He fell asleep dreaming of forbidden fruit.
* * *
Allison was pleased that she got to the music room first. She didn't want to be caught flat like last time. Hurriedly she stuck a reed in her mouth and assembled her stick. By the time the others arrived, she'd be warmed up and ready to go.
Five minutes later, the prickle at the back of her neck told her she was being watched. She looked up to see Craig Stewart through the tiny window of the classroom door.
The doorknob turned in slow motion. Nausea threatened; her hands grew slippery. Craig walked into the room. They were alone.
He lifted his palms and stayed far away from her. "I just came to practice. I didn't think anyone would be here yet."
Warily she nodded. "I was thinking the same thing."
"Allison, I'm really sorry," he blurted. "I was an ass, I wouldn't blame you if you hated me forever, I can't believe how I acted, I'm really sorry."
His humility was clearly authentic. Allison burst into tears. Craig panicked and turned toward the door.
"You don't have to go! I was just scared, that's all."