Teacher's Pet

About a month later, after I’d given up any hope of hearing from the business woman - my boss - ever again, a letter arrived. Typed as before and with specific instructions. I was to meet her on a specific day the following week at her flat, again at 4pm. I replied trying to sound cool and not like a gibbering, infantile, exultant school boy and arrangements were confirmed by post. I was again to be ‘discrete’……

As before she was mesmerising, beautiful and horny….and in charge. We sat on the same sofa and a similar seduction of the innocent took place. This time I was slightly more confident and didn’t fluff my lines. There was no over-excitement and my performance seemed to satisfy her. Literally. Her constant encouragement and very specific instructions only made me more virile and aroused. I was made to concentrate on her pleasure…..‘Please me’ she whispered. ‘Harder’, ‘slower’, ‘deeper’, ‘faster’ and even ‘focus!’ were her constant urgings. Ideally she wanted me to come on her instruction, this proved difficult and clearly needed more practice. ‘Next time I need you to hold on until I tell you’ was her final remark as she ushered me to the door. Next time? I was in ecstasy……

‘Next time’ turned out to be at least eight weeks later, by which time I had virtually lost the will to live. I was also back at college and no longer owned the custard yellow ‘babe magnet’ (not). The postman had virtually decided to sue me for harassment. I was convinced that someone must be intercepting my mail and it must be him. I used to spend hours at my bedroom window waiting for the laggardly, lethargic postie who had no concept of a routine. I waited to catch him red-handed secreting my mail up his jumper. I was going to make a citizen’s arrest, but the endless vigil proved fruitless. Hiding non-existent mail is not a crime.

Eventually the postman redeemed his reputation. This time I was to arrive in the morning at 11am as there had been a change in her ‘schedule’. I travelled by bus….a mode of transport out of kilter with the luxury of her abode and her up-market demeanour. This time as we sat on the sofa she looked me in the eye and told me earnestly, but seductively, that I had ‘more to learn’. Was I prepared to do something ‘special’ for her…..‘Show me how loyal you are’. Loyalty was something I was good at, licking a woman’s pussy was something that I definitely wasn’t. She instructed me to kneel on the carpet while she languidly lay on the sofa and dangled her legs over my shoulders. Thighs apart, open, waiting. High heels still intact, to be dug into my shoulders if I failed to ‘please’ her. Stocking and suspenders, knickers eased to one side to allow full access. She didn’t want to take them off; this had to seem illicit and impulsive. Taking them off was too deliberate; this was the furtive act of a needy woman with no time to waste. Spur of the moment. She held the elastic back with one hand while putting the other on top of my head, stroking my blond locks appreciatively as I pleasured her with my tongue. Or this was the idea………..The trouble was that this tongue was young and inexperienced and didn’t fully understand what was expected of it. My mistress had to issue very specific instructions which raised the temperature beyond boiling point and excited my tongue into a frenzy of obedience. She lay back and rode my shoulders like a jockey, using her heels to urge me exultantly to the winning post. Apparently I was a ‘good boy’ but ‘needed practice’. Sometimes incompetence has a rich reward. I agreed earnestly……..

And so it was. I visited the flat about eight more times. Every visit was a new sexual accomplishment. Spurred on by her compliments and increasingly specific instructions I scaled many sexual peaks. Her instructional role as teacher perfectly suited my puppy-like, boyish and enthusiastic desire to learn. I was in a ferment of sexual longing and craved our secret liaisons. They were too far apart and, not knowing when I would next be summoned, drove me crazy with restless frustration. But the eventual arrival of the typed envelope never ceased to send my heart into palpitations that would have made a cardiac specialist seriously worry about whether I was suffering from tachycardia.

My jockey-like skills improved to the extent that I was confident that I could now ride a thoroughbred. She was my stead and I rode her into oblivion. I learned that she liked to know when I was on the point of no return. This was apparently important. The shuddering intensity of her tight, little body and way she screamed obscenities and imploringly pulled my hair from its roots seemed to prove the point. I learned oral technique and trained my tongue to pleasure the multiple erogenous zones between her legs. I spoke in many tongues……..

My increasing confidence saw me wanting to take the initiative more and more; this was contrary to my supposed role as an uninitiated trainee. I began to sense that my increasing proficiency meant that she felt her work was almost done. I was becoming a bit too confident and cocky. Literally. I was starting to take the lead and her role as teacher of the innocent was diminishing. Although, it was something else entirely that brought our ecstatic trysts to an end.………