The Tutor

Oblivious to the dazzling autumnal colors around him, Hank plodded through the outskirt woods following the hard-packed trail to the campus, worrying a mental thread. He was jazzed to play this afternoon against the Northern Heights Technical School Panthers. This would be his first time starting for Central Junior College and he was determined to make a good showing as point guard. But the weeks of drills had scrambled his brain. So much to keep front and center. He'd been trying to let it all go and allow his instincts to take over - that's what Coach Dawson kept dogging the team to do - but he had been wound up with nerves for days. Just as he closed his eyes to practice clearing the clutter, the sound of staccato heels approached from the left. It registered, but not before he slammed into someone rounding the steep limestone outcropping.

"Hey, watch out Hank," a familiar feminine voice barked.

He fought to keep his balance and keep the body he was suddenly entangled with from falling to the ground. "Sorry, Miss Harper," Hank said as he made sure she was steady on her tall shoes. From those, he couldn't help noticing the graceful curve of her stockinged calves rising into a pleasingly draped black skirt. As his eyes rose to meet hers, he took in the remainder of her outfit: a plunging, short-sleeved, white silk blouse, set off by shoulder-length chestnut hair. Not exactly hiking attire. He struggled to keep his eyes on hers. "I was completely lost in thought."

"That's okay, Hon. I didn't expect to run into anyone on this trail either. Thought I'd take a short cut home from the school. It's beautiful here." She looked him over. "You playing today?"

He looked down at his shiny basketball uniform and the splayed toes of his high-tops. Next to her, he felt oddly juvenile. Awkwardly, he pushed aside his long blond bangs. "Yeah. Big game today. I'm starting."

"Congratulations, Hank. That's wonderful."

Her wide smile warmed him, as always. He hadn't paid attention to Miss Harper's looks during his twice-weekly visits to her office for help with his math class. She was what, in her thirties? Just one of the "adults." Here in the secluded woods, however, finely dressed Miss Harper stood out like a glowing beacon, and Hank found himself quite aware of her sinuous form.

A cloud cooled her features. "I missed you this past week."

Hank dropped his gaze. He hated to disappoint. "My bad. The game." He shrugged sheepishly. "You know."

"Yes, I do know. The big game." A long sigh left her lips. "What about your big test this Friday? Isn't that more important?"

"Sure, but there's time. After today. Nothing but studying for the test. I promise."

She folded her arms and glared at him. "Damn it, Hank. Stop bullshitting me."

He stepped back, stunned. "Hey, what did I...?"

"That's exactly what you said before your last test. And you scored a D. 'Distracted by our big win,' you said. And here we are again."

"But..."

"Save your excuses." She crossed her arms. "Jesus, you're just like the other 'boys' on the teams. So full of yourselves and only focused on the moment. No thought of your future."

Hank had never heard Miss Harper swear, much less raise her voice. Man, she was pissed. And it stung. He didn't know what to say, but he tried to smooth things over. "Listen, I goofed up. I know. And I'm sorry. Tonight, I'll work twice as long on my..."

"On what, Hank? Do you even remember where we left off?"

"Of course I do. It was polynomials...no wait...that's done. It's the...shoot, what are they called again? The...the..."

"Enough!" Miss Harper looked around and eyed a tree stump behind the slouching young man. She stepped around him and sat. As she did so, she grabbed Hank's shorts by the wide hems and yanked them down.

"Hey! What the...?" He reached down to pull them up and lost his balance. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him over her lap. Other than the narrow diagonal strips of his supporter, his pale white cheeks were fully exposed for her intended handiwork.

Hank felt dizzy. What was happening? Suddenly he had a face full of weeds and a ferocious fire was spreading across his backside as his tutor spanked him like a bratty child. He tried to squirm free, but Miss Harper was surprisingly strong. Every time he reached back to protect himself, she swatted his hand away. More than the growing pain, he was overcome by the humiliation. What if someone came by and saw?

"You listen to me, young man," she said as she rained down the spanks. "If you want me to help you pass your tests, you damn well better shape up."

"I will, I will," he groaned. "I promise." He could not get a firm purchase on anything. His feet kept sliding on the slippery leaves and now she had one arm pinned against his back and the other trapped between his side and her stomach.

"I've had enough of words. I...want...action!"

"Yeowch! All right, all right. Tell me what you want and I'll do it."

"Right. More words." She spanked him even harder and a new embarrassment kicked in. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks. "Please stop, Miss Harper. I'm sorry. I'll do everything you ask."

She stopped. To her amusement, Hank was still kicking. "Everything?" She heard a sniffle and muffled cough, and was pleased.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Miss Harper helped Hank to his knees. "Okay, come here, Hon." She pulled him in and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. He wasn't crying outright, but she felt the wetness of his cheeks against her bosom. Progress.

Hank's kept his face pressed against Miss Harper, not wanting her to see his tear-stained cheeks. Her hand slid up and down his back and he found that comforting, warm. His mind cart-wheeled with too many thoughts and feelings to track. He let them all go and just let her soft words and touches console him.

"There, there, Hon. You'll be fine. I know you can do this."

As calm restored, Hank took notice of the fragrance on his tutor's skin. Something spicy. Then he realized that this skin, pressed against his nose, was her cleavage. His first impulse was to pull away, but she felt so good against him. He could hear her heartbeat. Rapid. Like his. He relaxed and kept his face there. His hands had been glued to her waist, holding fast, but he let one venture to her lap. The shape of her taught, muscular thighs under her skirt filled his mind all over again. New thoughts. Confusing thoughts.

"Well now, what have we here?" he heard her say.

He tried to pull away to see what she was looking at, but she held his head fast against her breasts. Suddenly he felt something brush the front of his jockstrap. Then again. It was her fingers. He realized then that his protective gear had become painfully restrictive. Oh God, he thought. He was hard as a rock.

"This must be terribly uncomfortable," she said. With her free hand she deftly slid down the jockstrap, a little at a time on each side. She felt his stiffness bump against her thigh. "Oh my," she barely whispered, "you can't play basketball with THAT. How embarrassing."

Hank slumped. She was right. He'd be a laughing stock.

Miss Harper buried her face in his blond mop of hair and kissed the top of his head. "Let me help you with that." She reached for her purse and, again, with one hand, opened the clasp, rooted around, and pulled out a silk handkerchief. She reached down and slid her skirt up to reveal her thighs, silky in vintage stockings. "This will make you feel all better."

Hank could only moan agreement as he felt her wrap the silk around the head of his penis. She moved it onto her thigh and began to gently pet it. He pulled back far enough to see her breasts rising and falling. He looked down and saw her red-nailed fingertips caressing him. Between her parted legs, he spied a triangle of black lace. He wanted to drop his head down and explore her most thoroughly, please her, but he didn't want to be free of her touch. Instead, he leaned in to her breast again and rested his head comfortably against her soft, pillowy blouse.

"I think you like me to spank you. Don't you?"

Hank grunted.

"I thought so. You've needed this for a long time. Tonight, after your game, after you're all cleaned up, come to my house. I'm going to tutor you...in private."

He grunted again. This time, though, he involuntarily thrust forward. Miss Harper wrapped her hand and silk cloth around his length.

"And I am going to put you over my lap again, Hon, but this time I'm going to give you a very hard spanking on your naked bottom so you learn how to be responsible."

Grunt. Thrust.

"And Hank?"

Grunt.

"I have a feeling this may take many lessons."

Grunt thrust.

A familiar delirium seeped through his mind and body as he visualized Miss Harper's invitation. As she talked, he couldn't help but push against her thigh, sliding in and out of the soft silk. Wanting more. Wanting to hear more.

"You will come to my house twice a week." She reached behind him and gave him a sharp spank. "Do you understand?"

Grunt. Long thrust.

"You will not be able to leave until you learn your lesson."

Spank. Grunt. Thrust.

"If you insist on misbehaving, I'll spank you over my knee again and again and again, like a bad little boy."

A blinding wave took hold. Hank buried his face between Miss Harper's breasts and let out a primal growl. It seemed his entire being pulsed into her silken fist. Everything spun and spasmed and twitched until he felt like a dead weight. Helpless. Inert.

Eventually he became aware of Miss Harper's soft hands stroking his back and arms, even his sore bottom. She had a way of making everything seem okay.

She gently pushed him back and said quietly, "You have a game to win."

He nodded. After dressing, he stood and offered his hand to help Miss Harper up. She pulled out a pen and scrap of paper, scribbled her address and folded it into Hank's hand. "Make us proud, Hank. Make me proud."

"I will, Ma'am. You can count on me. From now on." He started away, but turned. "Thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me yet, Hon. I will see you tonight. Then you will really learn what it means to be thankful." She stepped to him and kissed his cheek. Then, with a quick swat that made him jump, she sent him on his way.

THE END