A Pleasant Session

I was quite taken aback when I first met Jane. I had been tutoring high school students in Chemistry and Biology for about a year, and I’d come to expect the type of students I’d meet. There were typically only two varieties: the intellectually gifted geeks, who request studying just so that they can be that tiny bit better; and the academically disinclined cretins, who met with me only at the behest of their parents. I was 23 at the time—in the final year of my degree—and like I said, I was slightly startled when I met Jane.

She was hot; there is simply no other way to put it. Cheerleader-hot, too. Her skin was lightly tanned, her eyes a light hazel colour, almost gold, and her hair was that dirty blonde colour that always reminded me of the beach—and by the looks of her, she was no stranger to the beach.

She was hot and she knew it, which is a quality in girls that usually turns me right off. I guess the difference with Jane was that, although she was quite conscious of her beauty, she didn’t flaunt it outrageously or wear it like a condescending cloak. She was just a playful young thing that liked to flash the occasional wicked smile and the occasional stretch of leg.

She was one of the only girls I’d ever met who actually wore skirts more often than she wore pants. To me, it was always disappointing that women had slowly adopted the widespread wearing of jeans and trousers and chosen to give up on dresses and skirts. Dresses, I guess, are a bit formal, and still worn on those occasions, but skirts deserve attention, especially when you have killer legs. And Jane did.

So as I said, the first time I met her, she provided a pleasant surprise. Her parents had found my ad in the local paper, had called me, and organised for me to meet with their daughter on Wednesday and Friday afternoons. I showed up at 5:00 on a Wednesday in April for our first session.

Jane opened the door, though I didn’t know that immediately. She looked about the right age, but she could easily have been a sister. The first thing I noticed was the long stretch of bare legs; the tan was exquisite, and I’ve always been a fan of tans. I had a nice one myself, if I may say so. She wore a yellow skirt with flowers sewn along the hem. Above that, a plain white form-fitting shirt, maybe her school shirt, I guessed.

“Hi,” she said with a wide smile that made me smile back involuntarily.

“Hi,” I replied, and there was a definite hitch in my voice. “Jane?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” she said. “Come in.” She moved aside so that I could enter the house, though not quite far enough aside to prevent me from brushing against her.

I think that was the first time I knew she was one of those girls that knew they were stunningly attractive. The stigma that came with that thought was immediate: she was one of those girls that did little to no work, wanted to do nothing but party all day and night and shop until they drop. I could definitely see her loudly chewing gum during our sessions.

I met her mother next, who had been in the kitchen. She was an amiable woman with a smile akin to her daughters, though it replaced the teenage mischief with a comforting warmth.

“You must be Rick,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I mumbled some pleasantries in reply. “Well, I’ll let you two get started then, shall I.”

“If that’s alright with Jane,” I said. “You can go into the study if you wish; that’ll be free in the afternoons.”

“We’ll go to my room, mom,” Jane suggested. “All my books are there.”

“Well, alright,” her mother replied, looking dubious; I could tell exactly what was going through her mind.

Jane started walking up a set of stairs. She paused on the bottom step and turned around. “It’s this way,” she said, and continued up. I followed up until we emerged on a second story landing, which stretched off into hallway, lined on either side with doors. Jane stopped outside one of them and held it open for me.

Her room wasn’t what I’d expected: it lacked the posters, large wardrobe and extensive CD collection that I was sure should be there. She didn’t even have her own phone. Instead, the bed was covered with an appealing, pale blue coverlet, on top of which sat a plethora of pastel stuffed animals. The bed took up the majority of the room, the rest being dedicated to desk along one wall and a large bookshelf along the other. A huge window protruded above the desk, affording a view of the neighbourhood.

“Nice room,” I commented.

Jane didn’t seem to want to drop that playful grin. “Thanks,” she replied. She shut the door and locked it, which I distantly found to be an odd thing to do. “Just take a seat at the desk.”

The desk was amazingly neat. There were two chairs pulled up to it—I sat in one. Jane sat down beside me, smoothing her skirt before she did. Her stare was making me somewhat nervous. I felt intimidated not only by her pristine beauty, but that glint in her eyes that made it look as though she could read my mind.

“So,” I began awkwardly, “you need help with chemistry?”

The glint vanished and she seemed to assume an entirely different personality.

“Yeah,” she said. She pulled a stack of books towards her and stuck a pencil behind her ear. I was shocked even more than I had been by her attractiveness, when I laid eyes on the tidy and copious amount of work in her notebook.

“OK, then,” I said. “Are there any questions you need help with?”

And so she asked me questions, loads of them. She nodded every time I explained some concept to her and never needed another word of help. She learnt quickly, to the point where I was teaching her material outside her course, and she again lapped it right up.

This is the vein that our sessions continued in for weeks. Jane would first ask me for help with any questions she was having trouble with, and then we’d work through the chapters in her textbook. She was able to lose herself in the work quite expertly. When I arrived and when I departed, she would treat me to those radiant smiles that I had come to love, but during the work, she would concentrate intently upon whatever it was we were doing. I, on the other hand, found it somewhat more difficult to do that.

I was always acutely aware of her body beside mine—her toned legs, her pronounced lips, the swell of her breasts. Occasionally her leg would knock mine or I would become infatuated with the way she curled her hair around her fingers and bit her lip when she was concentrating. I had never before taken to a girl so quickly, but after about two months of seeing her, I was violently and thoroughly attracted to her. It was a sexual attraction more than anything, though there was something else there too. Usually it was the other way around: I would only be sexually attracted to a girl if I liked her personality. Jane definitely had a great personality—from what I saw of it—but I doubt it would have made a difference if she’d been otherwise.

We became something like friends over the weeks, spending maybe a minute or two at the end talking about things other than chemistry. She would ask me if I’d seen any good movies lately and I’d ask her what she’d done on the weekend. After some time, I could definitely detect the presence of flirtation in our conversations. Once the textbook banged shut, the grin would reappear and she would talk in that whimsical, maple-syrup voice.

On one occasion, Jane was lying on her bed with her chin on her hand after telling me she didn’t feel like working anymore. She did this sporadically, even though I’d tried to explain that her parents’ money was going to waste. She didn’t mind though, so neither did I.

I was leaning back on my chair, staring at the ceiling. We still had half an hour to go.

“So how’s school?” I asked.

She answered me with a grunt. “It’s OK,” she said unenthusiastically.

I smiled. “You don’t sound too excited about it.” I could hear her assuming a sitting position on the bed behind me.

“It’s boring,” she explained. “The work is dull, the people are tedious and the boys are just rotten.”

I laughed. “What’s wrong with the boys?”

“Like I said, they’re rotten.”

“So you don’t...have a boyfriend then?” It was the first time I’d ever broached the subject, though I’d been dying to do so for months. I realised with a sharp pang that I was both anxious for and dreading the answer. Surely I couldn’t care that much...

She was standing up; she crossed the room and sat down on the floor, beside the desk, where I could see her. She was grinning again. “Why?” she asked. “Would you care if I did?”

Confused, I replied, “Why would I care if you had a boyfriend?”

She looked slightly hurt, but hid it well. “I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d be jealous.”

The front legs of my chair dropped back to earth. “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

She was staring at the floor now, tracing a circle on the carpet, though I could see that she was still smiling. “I don’t know,” she repeated, “I thought you might like me.”

I could feel my cheeks burning. “Uh, maybe we’d better do some more work,” I said.

She rose elegantly to her feet, swung a leg over my chair and sat on my lap, facing me with a pout. “Don’t you like me?” she said coyly.

I wanted more than anything to put my hands on her waist, but refrained, barely. I was rapidly hardening now, and if she slid further forward, that would be embarrassing enough. Strangely, she was even more beautiful up close. Proximity usually revealed faults in people’s complexion, but it had the opposite effect on Jane. Her lips were slightly moist; her eyes looked very golden now.

I kept silent, not trusting myself to speak. She pouted more intensely. “We don’t always have to study you know,” she said, and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her grin reappeared in full force, reading remarkably like an open invitation.

“And what else would we do?” I asked.

“Well,” she said, drawing the word out sensuously, “you could kiss me.”

My heart beat an accelerated tattoo against my ribcage. My cock was fully erect now and straining to escape. If I took it out I knew it would bounce towards Jane, catching her skirt and perhaps slapping against her leg.

With a shaky voice, I asked, “Is that something you’d want me to do?”

In reply, she grinned wider. I put my arms around her waist and leaned forward. Our lips connected and I had to force myself not to kiss harder and faster and more intensely. I kept it slow and soft and gentle, savouring the taste of her mouth. It didn’t last long, but others followed, and then others still. By the time we were quite comfortable with each other’s mouths, my hands were on her thighs, revelling in the impossible sleekness of her skin.

Jane grew bolder, and I felt a hand on my crotch. I jumped, causing her to smile against my lips. My heart was beating wildly like a caged animal. I occupied myself with her neck, trailing a row of light kisses down to her collarbone, which I nibbled on softly. The entire time, her delicate hand was fishing inside my jeans for my cock, which sprang free gratefully. She giggled, running a finger up the shaft, tracing the veins, which I could feel bulging beneath the skin. Her hand closed around it, holding it and doing nothing else. I knew instantly that she’d never been with a guy before. She was exploring my cock, perhaps feeling the warmth or the incredible hardness for it. She seemed to know that she had caused that.

I saw her free hand dart under the folds of her skirt. She was looking down at my throbbing sexual organ with a curious smile and desirous eyes.

“Is this your first...?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she replied timidly. I kissed her neck again.

“What do you want to do?”

She looked at me for a moment, then shuffled off my legs, dropping to the floor between my knees. I smiled at her and she smiled back affectionately. I was about to ask her if she was sure she wanted to do this, when her damp mouth sunk over the length of my shaft. Her lips clamped down like protective gates and her tongue flickered into action, prodding and licking the underside of my cock. She drew her lips off, kissed the head and took it in her mouth again. I was gripping the side of my chair tightly, struggling hard not to moan to loudly. I was panting though, and gasping, enthralled by the sight of the young teenage girl between my legs. She was amazingly proficient at it, varying her methods, using her hands and even just resting it against her cheek, which left a wet patch there and left me incredibly turned on. She attacked it from different angles, so that at one point I could feel the hollow cavity of her mouth, and the next I could feel the head pressed up against her cheek.

I announced to her that I was about to cum. She reached up and behind her, awkwardly, and brought the tissue box on her desk down to the floor. She left it beside her and continued her oral assault on my cock.

I reminded her again when I felt my balls burn, expecting her to go for the tissues. She didn’t; instead she drew my cock out slightly and kept sucking. I clasped the chair firmly with one hand and twined the other in her hair. The waves of orgasm wracked my body like spasms. My vision became unfocused and my head dizzy. Jane was sucking down the relentless tide of cum that I sent into her mouth. She did this for the first few violent spurts that would have hit her face anyway, then drew my cock out of her mouth and cupped her hands beneath it. She was licking her lips and catching the remainder of the liquid in her hands.

Once my vision cleared and my body stopped jerking, the flow of cum stopped in a dribble. Jane brought her hands to her face and licked the small puddle of it off, an elated look on her face.

When she’d finished, she looked up at me with that pixy grin of hers. I helped her to her feet.

“Where did you learn to do that?” I asked, my voice a little raspy.

“I told you, I haven’t done anything before with a guy. It’s not rocket science though.”

“No,” I said, “that was art.”

She grinned and sat on my lap again, tucking my cock back into my boxers. She fixed me once again with a penetrating gaze, her arms around my neck. She was closer this time, her breasts grazing my sweater.

“So you do like me?” she asked.

I nodded. “I do.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Not just ‘cause of the blowjob?”

“No,” I said.” She smiled and kissed me again.