History

I smiled, approaching her with some absent sense of trepidation, maybe just because of how nervous I felt at that moment and waved slightly with the same hand the bottle hung from.

'Hi,' I said. It was all I could say, I was struck almost completely dumb by just how great she looked.

Her face was still so young, her hair tied back straight in a bun to expose her beautiful features and a pair of black-rimmed glasses magnifying the depth of her lightish brown eyes. She smiled back, the cutest dimples creasing beneath full blushing cheeks. I was falling fast without knowing it and yet still stood before her perfectly still.

'You're early,' she greeted, grinning back, her brilliant white teeth hinting themselves through her luscious lips.

'I'm sorry, I can come back in...' I quickly scanned my wristwatch, 'fifteen minutes?'

'No, it's okay, it's nice that someone is happy to see me,' she said disarmingly, which immediately caused a swell of excitement, and unfolded her arms to greet me properly.

I walked to her, arms also outstretched and bent down to kiss her cheek. She tasted sweet against my lips, as I discovered while savouring the close and firm hug she reciprocated with, mashing her small but voluptuous frame against my much harder body. After the hug, she cleared her throat slightly and accidentally exposed a smile that hinted at her own nervousness.

'Is that for me?' she asked and the first thing I thought was that she had referred to the swelling hardness my trousers had just kept her from. If she had, her timing was impeccable.

'The bottle of wine,' she explained, pointing at it as I held it with a firm grip. I nodded and handed it to her and I found myself being led through the front door and into her home.

Every room from the hallway and through to the kitchen seemed so well lit by the oncoming sunset despite the dimness of the street beneath the trees and the tone of the interior's darker veneer of wooden furnishing. Wall hangings depicting natural landscapes filled the lighter spaces but still glowed with that pre-twilight colour that seemed to breathe life into everything it touched.

Two glasses stood close together on the kitchen worktop, the light through the open window sending beams of colour off in every direction as she poured the wine from the bottle, explaining the last decade and a half of her life and listening to mine. Oddly, considering how interested we seemed in each other, the interest in our stories became more and more brief as time went on.

We stayed standing in the kitchen as a mellow shade began to take over the house. The bottle emptied quickly and then we shared the tension of each others' presences for some time, sharing the feelings our looks gave one another; feelings of comfort and an excitement that hid itself beneath a cover of well hidden fidgeting and occasional stutters. It wasn't long before Miss Williams pondered on the possibility of another bottle of wine being shared.

'I probably shouldn't but I don't mind if you do,' I explained more than happily.

'Do you have work tomorrow?' she asked and then paused awaiting the letdown she feared. Of course I had only began with the intention of playing it safe.

'No it's just that I drove here,' I began to explain before she interrupted.

'Don't be daft, we can get around that,' she assured demurely before pulling another one from the fridge. 'You're not getting me drunk and staying sober!'

'Who said anything about getting drunk?' I asked innocently and watched a smile dawn on her face that implied something of a lack of innocence.

'Well isn't this what grownups do?' she asked me, a cleverly placed question.

'Adults do a lot of things,' I reasoned, 'some things being better at least half-sober...'

'I'm listening,' she indicated, pouring more wine carefully into our glasses before looking up at me. It was then clear to her that I would need a little more encouragement to get my words out more clearly and she then handed me my glass.

'You know, you don't have to act like an adult to gain my approval anymore.'

'I don't?' I asked, to which she shook her head and then took a large gulp of wine, then looking at me more seriously.

'You already are an adult, we're not in school anymore,' she assured almost cynically, 'just be yourself and relax. Just the same as I'm not your teacher anymore, I'm just Patricia.'

'That'll explain why my crush has suddenly come back twice as big, then,' I thought suddenly without realising I'd said it, followed idiotically by, 'sorry, I'm not usually a wine drinker...'

Because of what I had just said, Miss Williams, standing there propping up the kitchen worktop with one hand and with the other on her hip didn't realise her chest was literally heaving out towards me. Instead she just stood there with a smile on her face, slowly shaking her head at me.

'What?' I asked, tipping the glass towards my mouth.

'You're not the only one being affected by the wine,' she admitted and then stifled a giggle. Instead of chasing the laugh to drag it out, I let her hide it and asked why. 'I could tell you what I'm thinking but I'm having too much fun watching you fall to pieces and turn back into that little schoolboy again.'

I couldn't let her. I had to at least have an answer for everything if we were going beyond the point of caring what we said to each other. Blatantly, I gave her the once over and looked straight back into her eyes.

'You can tell me later if you haven't thrown me out on my arse,' I said and then laughed. We both did. 'But that means you can't ask me about the crush I used to have on you...'

She winked at me saying, 'good move, now you're getting the hang of it,' to which I replied, 'I had no warning we'd be playing games.'

'You skirting around the subject of wanting to get friendly with your old teacher isn't a game?' she asked and when I tried to deny it, the words wouldn't come out of my mouth. When I tried to instead shake my head, it lolled to one side and a smirk assumed control of my face.

'Men don't tend to think of it that way,' I explained.

'Men don't tend to think at all,' she corrected.

'No we don't,' I agreed, 'we just do it.'

'Do what?' she asked me, practically dared me, even. And that's when I decided enough was enough.

I crossed the small kitchen in the dim golden glow of the lowering sunset and approached her too quickly to think twice. She just stood there, one hand against the worktop still and the other cupping the curve of her hip, her eyes not trained on mine but seemingly soaking up the sight of me as a whole.

I took her in one hand by the small of her back just where the valley of her rear began and was tempted to reach lower but time seemed too short to take liberties other than the one I had in mind. With my other hand I held onto her side, the outer curve of her heavy breast pressing against my inner forearm.

Her lips then seemed to hunger, her eyes closing as she surrendered to me for the first time that night. I lowered my head and at the same time she raised hers and with all the anticipation leading to this moment racing through my veins, I gently pressed my lips to hers and kissed her. Our lips were pursed together in a soft embrace of bare flesh, unwilling to separate for what lasted longer than I had expected.

When I tried to pull away to see her face, her hand snaked around my neck, but rather than pulling me back in close to her she coaxed me into making it last just that little bit longer, to savour the moment our bodies were pressed together passionately for the first time.

'Something like that,' I concluded, to which she nodded in acknowledgement, still her eyes closed and her lips pouting in absence of mine.

'Maybe it's about time you told me about this crush,' she whispered, her eyes finally opening to accept me in a new light as the darkness began to take over the house. 'Why me?'

'Just attraction, pure and simple,' I said, 'at least to begin with. Then the way you used to tease us kids in front of each other; I bet you had no idea the effect you had on some of us. Me more than others...'

Her hand flattened against my chest then and I thought that this would be the moment she pushed me away, finally submitting to her fears or doubts, or both. She didn't. Instead she began to feel me through my shirt, the palm of her hand tracing over the curves where my pectoral muscles sloped off towards my abdominals. Eye contact remained undone as we hadn't yet come to terms with this new and exciting episode in the night's events.

'I used to go shy every time you spoke to me or asked me a question because up until someone took my mind off it, all I could think of was what would happen if an encounter like this sprung up. Can you imagine what those kind of daydreams did to a teenage boy?' I went on.

'Do you remember what your biggest fantasy was of you and me?' she suddenly asked and I felt the need to take a step back and slow down. It felt wrong to take things that far right then.

'Yes but I won't tell, not until you tell me what you were thinking before wanting to see me... unravel,' I teased. I was shocked then but also slightly more aroused strangely when maybe as a means of punishment her hand harshly smacked against my bottom through my trousers.

'It was childish and tacky, probably a complete and utter turnoff to the mature and experienced mind,' I pleaded, 'I won't tell but then again maybe I'll show you sometime.'

'No, a turn off is when you deny a woman who's been undressing you with her eyes the whole night what you've been thinking of doing with her,' Patricia revealed, her fingers curling up beneath my belt buckle. 'And you don't seem to know how much of a turn on it is for me to understand that I've been the object of your desires for over fifteen years. I could teach you something about waiting but fifteen years is the same long time for the both of us and that is too long.'

'It certainly is a long time to make up for,' I added. 'But I'm willing to make it up for the both of us if I have to.'

'But maybe you haven't thought about it or maybe you don't care. You're about to make an old woman make a decision for herself whether having a sexual encounter with a man that used to be her pupil will leave her looking and feeling foolish to say the least.'

'Foolish?' I asked, taken aback, 'foolish how?'

'You've been making out like you've waited for me your whole life. I don't want that, I don't want anything but what the moment dictates,' she said.

'Then make it a long moment, I'm enjoying the intimacy,' I pleaded, to which she creased her brow and then without warning leaned in and offered me a slow, deep lingering kiss.

'I want to know your fantasy. Be a good boy and tell me before this bottle of wine is finished and lets see what the moment brings,' she finalised and returned to her wine glass.

*** The Fantasy ***

You didn't call it detention but still you asked me to turn up after school to discuss some things. I don't know what it could be but I never question or doubt you. I love your classes, I'm not always an A+ pupil but getting to sit across the room from you is always a plus.

I turn up to find that only one other kid sitting there doing his homework from the week before. You ask me to sit down at the desk opposite you, clearly marking out the seat you intend for me, pointing to it with a pen in your hand as you trawl through your paperwork.

Beneath a black cardigan you wear loose, you're sporting your usual summer dresses, low cut and showing the cleavage that's been the object of countless daydreams and fantasies at school as much as at home. I sit there waiting for you to pay me attention but you tell me to just sit tight and wait for you to get your work over and done with. It takes about ten minutes, most of which I use to sneak a glance at you, practically bursting out of your dress as you lean over your desk. Occasionally your eyes meet mine, not wondering what I'm staring at but confirming that which you already know. You are the object of my every hormonal urge and sexual desire and I cannot break out of this spell.

In time, you tell the other kid to pack up and go home, to finish what they've started before tomorrow. Then your attention moves to me once he is gone. You then ask me to pull a chair up beside your desk and you begin to ask me questions skirting around the problem we have.

I'm doing the homework, I'm trying to pay attention in class and sometimes I'm hitting the nail on the head but still, I'm in this permanent daze and you can't seem to break me out of it.

You ask me why I think that is and if there are any problems I feel need to be addressed.

I tell you that when I try to pay you my full attention, I begin to feel things beyond my control. I get flustered whenever you ask me a question, as I'm doing now. I forget every word you say because I start concentrating on your lips instead of your words and I start to go into a trance. I become shy and withdrawn whenever you're in a bad mood because rather than try to do what you need me to do – in order to be a better pupil – I'm more personally concerned about why you feel so frustrated.

It's made clear that I have a crush on you and there is little we can do about it. You don't trust the other teachers to educate me better than you could, I'm at the age where every maturing member of the opposite sex seems attractive to me and I just have to deal with it the best I can and ask for help before I end up in trouble. You ask me if there's anything I can suggest as to how we can deal with the problem.

I go blank. I'm not looking at your tits, although you're clearly offering me a birds-eye view of your cleavage. I'm lost in your eyes again and can't break free. You ask me again and I can't think hard enough to give you an answer.

Out of resignation you drop the pen from between your delicate fingers and withdraw a long sigh, sitting back in your chair.

'I'll give you a lift home...' you begin to say and I'm grateful, 'if you come home with me first!'

My eyes almost pop out of their sockets, my pubescent hard-on out from the confines of my school trousers. You lean forward again and rest your chin in the palm of your hand, propped up on the desk by your elbow.

'What for?' I ask and you just stare at me and tell me it's because you think I'm gorgeous. I don't think you're serious and answer, 'okay,' finishing with a childish laugh.

Half an hour later, we're driving back to your house and with one hand on the steering wheel, another places itself into my lap, squeezing my leg.

'There's only one way we can stop you falling asleep in my classes,' you say, and your hand runs firmly across my stiffening crotch. 'I'm going to have to give you what you clearly need. Do you agree? Are you okay with that?' you ask.

I just nod in agreement and you grab a hold of me beneath the fabric of my trousers.

'You're quite big for such a young boy,' you compliment me.

We're in your house, in your bedroom and you've stripped me down to my underwear and had me sit down in a wooden chair across the room from your bed. Slowly and sensuously, you take my hands and guide me towards unbuttoning your dress from the front. From the first hint of the white lace bra cupping your magnificent tits, I become so hard it hurts and when you're completely free of your clothing, I'm shaking so hard with excitement I can't sit still.

You straddle my lap, encouraging me to touch your breasts through the white lace bra barely containing you. My smaller hands squeeze and stroke, rub and grope. All the while you start to grind and gyrate against me, drawing yourself further into me.

'You're a natural,' you tell me, 'you have been thinking of me a lot haven't you!?'

I nod, my hands leaving your breasts and roaming freely across the rest of your body as the soft, moist spot of your vagina entrance presses hotly against my hardness through the thin fabric of the clothing keeping us apart. Your skin is the most erotic thing my hands have experienced, soft, smooth and warm, flesh to be toyed with at will. My hands find your buttocks and marvel at their fullness and shape. And with that you lean into me, whispering things into my ear that will almost take me over the edge.

'I'm going to teach you pleasure most boys will never know their whole lives,' you say, 'but first, how would you like to kiss me?'

My lips press against yours and we kiss wetly and passionately. It is the beginning of my first sexual experience. You don't kiss like any girl I ever knew and I tell you this.

'Don't you love my lips, how full they are, how they feel against yours?' you ask and I nod, retrieving another kiss from your parted lips, enjoying their fullness. 'No white women have lips like these. You'll know that after I've wrapped them around your big hard cock. Would you like that?'

I say yes, not quickly enough, begging to be anything but eaten alive by you since you've suddenly turned into this wild sexual beast, preying on your favourite pupil. You begin to unclasp your bra, hands behind your back and effectively forcing your breasts into my face. My hands reach out, pulling the undergarment away and meticulously studying in pure amazement the true magnificence of your form.

Your breasts are so perfectly round, soft to the touch and feel like heaven. The nipples are large and dark and need sucking. I need to do this before we go any further.

'Be careful,' you instruct me, 'lick gently around them and if you nibble on them with your teeth, don't bite. That makes me sensitive and gets my pussy so wet, which it will need to be. Now suck on them slowly and show me what you'd like me to do to you with my mouth...'

I take my time and eventually get lost, sucking on your tits, engaging your lips in a full-on sensuous kiss with lips and tongue. You tell me that tongue will learn to lick pussy one day, something for me to look forward to in future if my studies improve. But for now, you remove yourself from my lap and ask me to stand up.

I obey you and before long, you're replacing me in the chair and having me stand between your legs and you're fetching my erection from the fly of my boxer shorts. I'm 8" long and thick-shafted, the head of my cock is large and straining beneath the foreskin and the first sensation of your gentle hand wrapping around me is enough to have me spunking all over you. I don't though.

'If you feel like you're going to come, tell me to stop. As young and fresh as you are, I want you spunking deep inside me when I'm done getting you nice and slippery. You have a nice big cock,' you tell me, kissing the head with your full brown lips and then going back for a second taste as if it's so suddenly addictive. 'I could suck this cock for hours, shame you're not old enough to stay the night!'

I am in ecstasy as your full lips plunge slowly down over the length of my hard cock for the first time, the sensations of your warm tongue tickling the shaft, like nothing I've ever felt, as you rhythmically increase and then decrease the intensity and speed of your suction.

Your mouth is soon dripping wet and drooling saliva but for all I know by the sensations that are attacking every nerve ending in my body, it's my come spilling out of my cock and down your cheeks. I feel my sensitive balls being soaked as you take them in one palm and tickle them with your long fingernails. Just watching you do this, my glistening wet length disappearing into the hot depths of your mouth and throat, and hearing the sounds of sucking fill the otherwise silent room, it brings me suddenly close and so I ask you, partly against my own desire, to stop and take me to the next level of our private lessons.

You tell me to take off my boxers and go lie in the centre of the bed and as I do, waiting for your next move and watching in wonder as I see you in all your naked glory stand up and peel off that last vital piece of clothing, I take my length in my hand and gently stroke it, feeling that it has become harder than ever before. I am so excited I can't see tonight coming to an end, not while I have you before me like this.