Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Miss Hawkins an erotic tale by MsWhich

   Comments to: mswhich@hotmail.com



   I know that I swore never to tell a single soul about this, but I really
want to write it all down, so that later on I don't forget any of the
details.  I don't think I would forget any of the details; they're burned
right into my mind, permanently.  But I want to write this down, just in
case.  It's the sort of thing I want to remember forever and always.

   You see, I'm only 15 years old.  So you can see that I probably have a
pretty long life ahead of me, if everything turns out OK.  I'm just worried
that when I'm 85, I'll have trouble remembering this far back in my life.
That's why I'm breaking my promise to Miss Hawkins and writing this down.
It doesn't matter; nobody will ever read it anyway.  I just need to tell
somebody, even if it's only this sheet of paper.  Last year I was an eighth
grader in Miss Hawkins' history class.  She was the kind of teacher that
the entire class develops a crush on - at least, all the boys did, and I'm
not so sure some of the girls didn't either.  She was always dressed in
these pretty dresses that just set my imagination on fire.  I mean, it was
the kind of dress that revealed just enough leg to make you think of what
was up further, hidden by that sheer fabric.  She was the first woman I'd
ever seen who wore seamed stockings; I thought they were just about the
sexiest thing ever.  And her collar dipped down low enough so that you
couldn't see any of her breasts, but you thought you might be able to,
every time she stood up or sat down or moved at all.  Oh brother, and when
she moved...  she was so graceful.  I swear, it was like having a ballet
dancer teach the Civil War and Reconstruction.  I sat in class for hours,
not hearing a word, just watching her move around.

   Don't get me wrong, now.  I wasn't sitting in class with a perpetual
boner, or anything.  I just liked watching her.  She was elegant, refined,
beautiful, and smart besides.  That was a real change from the other girls
I knew.  Most of them were still tomboys, rough-housing around in gym with
the rest of the boys, and more likely to wear blue jeans and sweatshirts
than stockings and high heels.  And as for the rest..  well, I'm not the
most popular guy at school, let's just say that much.  I'm a little shy,
and I don't play any sports, so for the most part the girls don't even
notice I'm there.

   Anyway, to get on with my story, I'm not the smartest guy in class
either.  I'm not stupid or anything, but sometimes I don't do as well on my
homework as I might like.  No big deal, except that my parents are nuts
about grades.  I come home with a C and they want to pay for special
tutoring.  It's ridiculous.  So after one particularly bad grade on a quiz
in Miss Hawkins' class, my parents sent me to school with a note to give
her.  I read it on the bus, naturally.  They wanted her to get me hooked up
with some kind of tutor for history so my grades would be better.  Great.
This was just what I needed.  I was going to have to spend more time
thinking about schoolwork, and I was going to have to hand this
embarrassing note to Miss Hawkins.  There was no question of my not giving
the note to her; my parents would want to know what she said, the minute I
came home.  I sighed deeply; it was shaping up to be a miserable day.

   When I came into history class, I handed her the note, grimaced, and
went and sat down.  She looked at me kind of funny.  I could have died; all
I want is to daydream about my history teacher, and here she is thinking
I'm some kind of idiot.  I blushed and buried my face in my history book. I
then proceeded to forget all about the incident.  I guess I figured if I
didn't think about it, nothing would come of it.  Hah.  So much I knew. 
Come 2:30, I've forgotten all about the note from my parents, and I'm
staring out the window, waiting for the bell to ring and wondering if Miss
Hawkins wears garters with those seamed stockings of hers.  Not more than
five minutes before that bell was due to ring, the secretary's voice came
over the intercom and told me I was supposed to report to Miss Hawkins'
room before I went home for the day.  Fabulous.  Oh, well...  at least I'd
get to see Miss Hawkins again.  So when the bell rang, I headed down the
hall for the history room, fighting the waves of students as they streamed
out the doors.

   "Miss Hawkins?"

   "Oh, hi, Jonathan."

   God, that harmonious voice.  I would have paid her money just to hear
her talk.

   "Come in.  I want to talk to you about this note from your parents."

   I would have rather gnawed off my own fingers than talked to her about
that note from my parents.  But I came in and sat down in a seat she'd
pulled up next to her, prepared for the worst.

   "I think your parents have an excellent point.  Your work hasn't exactly
been the best you could do, has it?"

   I mumbled, "No, ma'am", blushing fiercely.  Why me, God?

   "Well, I think you could definitely use a tutor, since you're obviously
not getting the work done on your own."

   Great.  I knew it.  I envisioned all of my free time flying straight out
the window.  She was going to assign me some upperclassman to help me with
my work, and then the entire high school would know what a dummy I was.

   "But I'm not sure another student would be the best solution." She
rested her hand on my knee.  "You're a good student, Jonathan; you just
need a little extra help.  Isn't that right?"

   I managed to nod.  My heart had stopped when she touched me with that
beautiful manicured hand, and hadn't restarted yet.  I was having trouble
concentrating on what she was saying, but I had the vague notion that it
was good.

   "Right.  So I thought it might be better to have you come to my house
for tutoring, several nights a week.  I know it will infringe on your free
time, but I think it'll be worth it.  What do you think?"

   What did I think?  To be quite frank, I didn't think anything.  The
pressure of her hand on my thigh had done quite enough to remove all
semblance of logical thought from my mind.  There was no way she could know
what she was putting me through by touching me like that, but I was in
exquisite agony.  I hoped she would take her hand away soon, because I
didn't know how much longer I could postpone the inevitable hard-on.  If
that happened, I really would crawl under a floorboard and die.  "Yeah,
Miss Hawkins, I guess that would be OK." Some stranger must have been
manipulating my vocal cords.  I don't know how I would have managed to
speak, otherwise.  Miss Hawkins' HOUSE, several nights a week?  My heart
was beating so fast I thought I was having an attack or something.

   "Good, Jonathan!  Why don't we just plan for you to ride home with me
after school, and then I'll drop you back off at your house when we're
done?"

   I nodded weakly.  Sounds good to me, Miss Hawkins.  She'd inadvertently
moved closer to me, in the process of scooting her chair in towards her
desk, and now her leg was pressing against mine, and she still hadn't moved
her hand.  I felt my jeans get a little tighter, and prayed for her to move
away before she noticed.  I knew from gym class that I was a little more
well-endowed than the average 14-year-old, but right now I wished it wasn't
there at all.

   She smiled brightly at me, and praise be to the heavens, she moved away.
I started breathing again, although I was afraid that when I stood up to
leave, my legs would buckle right out from underneath me.  She'd been so
close to me that when she shifted in her chair, I could feel the muscles in
her leg move.  It had nearly been an intensely embarrassing moment, but
thank God I'd managed to restrain myself.

   As I got up and headed out the door, she stopped me.  "Oh yes, one more
thing...  Jonathan?"

   Say my name again in that heart-stopping voice, and I'm yours forever.

   "What?"

   "You should probably plan to be at my house for at least three or four
hours.  I know that's a terribly long time, but you have a lot of catch-up
work to do."

   "No problem, Miss Hawkins." I'll live at your house if you want, ma'am.
She smiled and I walked out the door.  The day had turned out a bit better
than I'd thought that morning.  I definitely needed to get home and lock
myself in the bathroom for a while.

   My parents, as I'd expected, approved whole-heartedly of the idea.  So I
spent the next day at school in my own little fantasy world, filled with
only me and Miss Hawkins.  I was totally inexperienced with girls at the
time, so I won't embarrass myself by writing down those fantasies.  Suffice
it to say that for a 14-year-old virgin, they were fairly risque.  The
minutes until 2:30 ticked down with depressingly slow regularity.  I was so
nervous and so excited, all at once.  I was terrified that I might
embarrass myself or seem stupid in front of Miss Hawkins; and yet, I was
about to spend 4 hours as the focus of her attention.  You want to talk
butterflies in the stomach?  I couldn't even eat lunch, I was so
nerve-wracked.

   "Jonathan?"

   A soft voice interrupted my reverie.  It was Miss Hawkins.  Apparently
the bell had rung, and I'd been so lost in my daydreams that I hadn't even
noticed.  She grinned at me and told me to hurry up.  So I grabbed my stuff
and followed her out to the teachers' parking lot.

   Miss Hawkins - pretty, young, smart, graceful Miss Hawkins - drove a
black Firebird.  She laughed when she saw my expression.  "Not exactly what
you were expecting, right?"

   I shook my head mutely.  If it was a stick-shift, I was going to die,
right there on the spot.  It was a stick-shift.  I got in the passenger
side and belted in.  Miss Hawkins' hand slid over the gearshift and we were
off.  She drove so fast, and so well, I couldn't believe it.  And I won't
even discuss the way she handled the gearshift.  I think I might have been
staring at her right hand, though, because I noticed her smiling even
though she wasn't looking at me.  It took us about 20 minutes to get to her
house (it would have taken my Mom 45, and Mom is no slouch when it comes to
driving).

   She told me to go in the kitchen and have a seat, and she'd get her
books ready and be out in a minute.  So I sat down at the kitchen table to
wait for her.  When she came in, I nearly fell off my chair.  She'd taken
off her shoes and unbuttoned her blouse a little.  So now I could see her
bare feet, complete with painted toenails, and more importantly..  Well,
that little bit of unbuttoning had done a lot for visibility.  I could see
the swell of her breasts, and the red lace that was holding them in check.
I swallowed hard; it was going to be a long four hours.

   "...  with the Civil War."

   Oops.  I tore my eyes away from her breasts and sheepishly asked her to
repeat what she'd just said.

   "I said, I think we should begin with the Civil War."

   And so, we began.  We covered the book slowly and methodically.  She'd
spend half an hour on one paragraph, explaining to me all the nuances and
details.  My head was spinning, but I was trying to keep all of it
straight. I had no idea there were so many things to know about the Civil
War.  I'd always just thought it was a bunch of battles.

   After about an hour of this, she stopped and said she needed a glass of
water.  I said that I could use one too.  And I could, after an hour of
watching her breasts bounce a little every time she moved, and smelling her
light perfume, and...  well, anyway, I needed that water.

   When we began again, she changed tacks.  She said this would be standard
procedure; she'd go over something for a while and then I'd have to answer
a bunch of questions about it.  She moved her chair closer to me, to be
able to see my book.  Unfortunately, this meant that her leg was pressing
against me again.  I could feel every inch of that silk-clad leg, from
thigh to ankle, that's how close she was to me.  And she put her hand back
on my thigh, for reassurance, I guess.  It sure didn't feel very
reassuring.

   She leaned closer to my book (oh God, Miss Hawkins, I could run my hands
through your hair forever..) and asked me some question about the coming of
the Civil War.  I guess I must have choked out a response, because she
nodded and went on to the next question.

   We did this for awhile, her asking me questions and me answering in sort
of a daze.  Then..  then I felt her moving her hand.  It felt like she was
just moving it back and forth a little, like massaging my leg to relax me
or something.  It had the opposite effect.  Her hand was not more than six
inches from my groin, and was massaging my thigh.  I was in the middle of
answering one of her questions when the inevitable happened.  I started to
swell.

   This wasn't just a little bit of bulge under my jeans, either.  Miss
Hawkins' hand was more stimulation than I'd ever had from any female,
anytime, anywhere.  Pretty soon my erection was so bad it was hurting me,
trapped behind all that stiff and unyielding denim.

   I tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away.  Miss Hawkins just kept
asking me questions about the Civil War, in that slow, soft, voice.  I
couldn't concentrate worth a damn, but I answered all of those stupid
questions.  How could I not?  I was afraid that if I messed up, Miss
Hawkins would take her hand away.  Of course, I was also afraid she'd look
over and notice my raging hard-on, so there was a bit of conflict.  But by
this point I didn't care much one way or the other.

   After maybe fifteen minutes or so of this excruciating torture, Miss
Hawkins upped the stakes.  I still thought it was inadvertent.  I swear, I
did.  What did I know?  I was 14 years old!  So I thought it was just
accidental when Miss Hawkins began massaging higher on my thigh, still
asking questions in her steady, low-pitched voice.  The edge of her hand
was now stroking against my hard-on.  I couldn't help it; I started to
squirm.  I needed to be out of those jeans, or to have her stop what she
was doing.  Anything; I couldn't bear this torture much longer.

   Miss Hawkins seemed not to notice the effect she was having on me.  My
breath was short and my heart was pounding.  I had no idea what to do, so I
kept answering her questions.  Her hand kept moving steadily higher and
higher as I answered each one.  Finally, she was moving her hand around,
with these slow gentle circular motions, right on top of the bulge in my
pants.  I couldn't help it.  I groaned, and thrust my hips forward.  I was
immediately horrified with embarrassment; at this point I still thought
Miss Hawkins was doing this all by accident.

   Embarrassment or no, there was no way I could continue to answer
questions.  I was lost in a haze of agonizing pleasure, as her hand traced
lazy patterns around the straining denim at my crotch.  Then - miracle of
miracles - she leaned over and whispered in my ear.  I felt her hair brush
against me, and I felt her hot breath against my ear.  She whispered,
"Jonathan..  I think we should move into the living room, don't you?"

   I let out a groan of affirmation that was nearly a sob, and she
murmured, "Good", and slid her tongue along my earlobe.  I barely knew
where I was by now; it is only by sheerest luck that I managed to get to
her couch.  I sat down on the edge at first, but that didn't last long. 
She pushed me back gently, so that I was leaning back on the couch with my
legs spread apart.  My erection was really painful against my jeans now,
and I couldn't stand to bring my legs together any further than they were.
It didn't matter for long, though.  Miss Hawkins knelt down between my legs
and smiled up at me.  Now, let me reiterate this.  My beautiful, sexy
eighth-grade history teacher, the object of the biggest crush of my life,
was KNEELING between my LEGS.  I thought I had to be dreaming.  She
murmured, "Now, Jonathan.  You have to promise me something." I could feel
her breath against my hard-on.  I would have promised her the Pope's head
on a stick if she'd asked me to.

   "Jonathan?" I groaned and gasped out, "What, Miss Hawkins?"

   "You have to promise never to tell anyone."

   She was actually sliding her nose and lips around my straining hard-on
as she said this, and her hands were stroking my thighs.

   "Promise me, Jonathan.  What we do here is between you and me, right?"

   "Uh-huh..." I groaned again.  She was undoing my belt, and licking at my
chest and belly as she did.

   "Promise me, Jonathan." Now she'd risen up a little, and was licking at
my nipples, her body pressed right up against my erection, which was so
hard I was almost in tears.

   "Unggh..  oh God, I.."

   "Promise me, Jonathan...  I want to hear you say it." She was grinding
against me with her pelvis, and licking and sucking all over my chest.  A
tear slipped down my cheek; my cock hurt so bad I wanted to die.  I thought
I was going to explode, and there was no way I could make my voice say what
she wanted me to.

   "Unnnnnh...  oh, oh please, please, jeeeesus, unggggggh.." "Come on,
Jonathan, you have to promise me." She was grinning brightly, and now she
was licking the tears that were sliding down my face, and I could feel her
breasts against me, and she was ...  well, she was humping me - I could
feel her rubbing her panties back and forth over my erection.  "Promise me,
Jonathan...  come on, do it, or I'll have to stop right here."

   No, Jesus no, don't stop, I'll do anything for you, just don't for
Christ's sake stop.  But I couldn't force that out.  All I did get out was,
blessed be, a strangled "I promise, Miss Hawkins." She beamed.  "Good,
Jonathan.  I think you'll enjoy yourself, even though I KNOW.." She was
unzipping me.  "...  it's going to cut into.." She was sliding my jeans
off, releasing my aching cock.  "...your free time." As she slid my boxers
off, she gazed up at me and whispered, "You don't mind...  do you?"

   I shook my head mutely.  I was now half-naked in front of the most
beautiful woman I had ever seen.  I felt like my head was ready to float
away from my body.  She pushed my knees apart, lowered her head between my
legs, and murmured, "Good."

   I leaned back and closed my eyes.  Miss Hawkins was sliding her nose all
up and down the length of my cock (she called it my cock, and I loved
hearing those words come out of her elegant lips), and kissing my balls
ever so gently at the same time.  I was moaning uncontrollably now.  Just
as I thought it couldn't possibly feel any better than this..  Miss Hawkins
started licking me, up and down my length, just like a lollipop.

   "Do you like that, Jonathan?" Her voice was muffled because at that
time, she was wrapping her mouth around the base of my erection.  "Hmm?  I
can always stop if you want me to."

   "No, oh Jesus, no, please don't stop, God please don't stop, this feels
better than anything ever felt in my life, if you stop I think I'll die, it
feels soooo good".  I'm paraphrasing, but I improvised on that theme for
quite some time.  Miss Hawkins seemed to approve.  She took my tip in her
mouth and began to swirl it back and forth, giving it the occasional flick
with her tongue.  My thighs started to tighten up.  There was no way in
hell I was going to be able to hold back for long.  I guess Miss Hawkins
knew that, because the next thing I knew she had my entire cock in her
mouth, and she was sucking on it, hard, and sliding her mouth up and down
on it.  I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.  And then I didn't think at
all.  I let out a low guttural moan, and I tried to warn her, "Miss Hawkins
I think you better", but that's all I choked out before I closed my eyes
and thrust my hips forward and exploded in orgasm.

   Unbelievably, I felt Miss Hawkins swallowing my jism, while I was still
bucking and thrusting.  And when it had finally ceased and I was lying back
on the couch, my heart pounding in my chest and a delicious warm feeling
spreading throughout my body, I felt her licking the last of it away from
me.  I couldn't even move.  She came up from between my legs and smiled at
me.  Through the haze enveloping my brain I saw a thin trail of come
dripping from the corner of her mouth to her chin.  She sort of knelt over
me on the couch, and then she touched my lips with her own.  This was my
first kiss; I said before that I was pretty socially awkward.  Miss Hawkins
pressed her lips against mine, so lightly, and began probing into my mouth
with her tongue.  I could taste my own spunk on her as she teased and
licked at me.  I guess I must have responded.  I was still in sort of a
daze.

   Miss Hawkins slowly withdrew her tongue from my mouth, and rested her
head on my chest for awhile.  I guess maybe she was listening to my
heartbeat.  I really don't know; I still couldn't believe this wasn't a
dream.  She laid like that for probably twenty minutes or more while I
recovered.  The whole time, she was tracing light patterns around my chest
and belly with her fingertips.  All I could do was moan, which was pretty
embarrassing.  I tried to be more articulate, but I just couldn't say
anything comprehensible.

   As I laid on her couch, legs splayed open, half naked, with her fingers
stroking all over me, she just looked down at me and grinned.

   "How's the tutoring so far, Jonathan?" She leaned over and lightly
traced the edge of my ear with her tongue, nibbling a little at the bottom
of my earlobe before finally letting go.  "Do you approve?  Or shall we
discontinue this after tonight?" I let out a long, shuddering sigh.

   "Miss Hawkins...  I just..  I..." "What, Jonathan?  You can tell me...
tell me what's on your mind.  Tell me everything."

   That slow, sultry voice again.  I would have killed Santa Claus for her.
And I couldn't help but tell her exactly what I was thinking, which made me
flush bright red again.

   "Oh God, Miss Hawkins, I want you so bad, I want you so bad you don't
understand, please don't stop after this, please.."

   "Jonathan."

   I stared at her, suddenly terrified that she was going to say that
tonight had been a fluke, a mistake, and that she was never going to do it
again.  Fear grew in the pit of my stomach.  "I am a teacher.  And I am
going to teach you.  Teach you everything.  Do you understand?"

   I nodded.

   "Say it, Jonathan."

   "I understand, Miss Hawkins."

   "Good.  Now, tell me, Jonathan...  have you ever daydreamed about me in
class?"

   Oh, God.  How could I tell her?  How could I tell her, yes, a thousand
times in a thousand different ways, Miss Hawkins?  Her finger traced slowly
across my chest while she waited for me to answer.

   "Miss Hawkins, I.."

   "Answer me, Jonathan.  Have you ever thought about me?  Thought about
whether I was a virgin?  Whether I wore panties?  What it would be like to
kiss me?  Tell me, Jonathan."

   "I..."

   Her fingernail suddenly scraped harshly across my chest, leaving a
bright red mark, causing me to gasp suddenly.

   "Tell me, Jonathan."

   I hesitated.  She drew a second fingernail across my chest, this one
burning even more than the first.  This time, my entire body jerked.

   "Tell me, Jonathan!"

   "Yes!  Yes, all the time, I've daydreamed about you since the day I saw
you, naked, in my arms, kissing me, all those things, I CAN'T STOP THINKING
ABOUT YOU, all right?"



   Miss Hawkins finally smiled at me.  "I'm glad, Jonathan.  Because you
really are my favorite student.  I've liked you since the day I saw you. 
So bright, so interesting, with so many ideas..  but for some reason you
always seemed to be on the outside, looking in.  Am I right?"

   I nodded slowly.  She'd pegged me.  "Yeah, I guess so.  But I don't
think I'm all that bright or interesting, really."

   "You are.  And I'm going to reward you, Jonathan.  Does that sound all
right with you?"

   Before I could even answer her, she'd begun licking at me again.  She
started at my neck and worked her way down, slowly and methodically.  She
covered every inch of my body - my chest, my nipples, my arms, my belly..
She kissed and licked at all of it, inch by inch by exquisite inch.  Her
mouth was so soft and warm, and I still could not believe this was
happening to me.  My cock was already semi-erect again, not an hour after
my last orgasm.  She spent a lot of time on it, giving it little licks and
kissing it gently, all over.  It wasn't nearly enough to bring me to
orgasm, but it sure was enough to get me hard again.

   "Watch me, Jonathan."

   I wasn't about to disobey.  I could have watched her until Judgment Day.
As I stared at her, she stood up and unzipped her dress in back.  She made
this little sort of shrugging motion, and it slipped to the floor, rustling
a little as it pooled around her ankles.  She stepped out of it as
gracefully as any ballerina.  Miss Hawkins was now standing before me
wearing only her seamed stockings, her garter belt, her red lacy bra, and
her high heels.  Her breasts were beautiful, and her curves were perfect.
She slid her hands down her sides, bringing them together side-by-side
right above her panties, while she ...  well, I guess she was undulating
with her hips.  I could barely breathe.

   "Get on the floor, Jonathan.  Lie down on your back."

   I did it.  I would have done anything she'd told me to.  My cock was
almost fully erect again, as this vision of absolute beauty writhed and
stroked herself, standing above me.  She slowly descended to the floor,
straddling my body on her knees.  I groaned helplessly as she stopped
stroking herself and began to stroke my body instead.  She was so close to
me...  I could feel her pussy lips with my cock.  She brushed my cock with
them as she moved back and forth, stroking my chest.  I was so close to her
that I was nearly inside her, but she wouldn't quite allow me close enough.
After ten minutes of this, I thought I was going to go crazy.

   "Tell me what you want, Jonathan."

   I couldn't; even in this situation I was still too shy.  There was no
way I could tell my teacher that I wanted to make love to her.  Not even
when she was straddling my naked body with her own.

   "Come on, Jonathan..  you know what you want.  Tell me, and you can have
it.  Or don't you want it?"

   As she said this, she allowed me to slip an inch inside her, but quickly
pulled back.  I let out an agonized groan.

   "Do you want more of that, Jonathan?  All you have to do is tell me..."

   She was grinning down at me as she tortured me.  I kept thrusting
upward, but she'd move out of the way so that I couldn't reach her.

   "I..I..  Miss Hawkins, please!"

   "Please what, Jonathan?  Hm?"

   "I can't..  I need you to..  Miss Hawkins, please, I can't stand this!"

   "Stand what, Jonathan?  What do you need?"

   "I need you to...  to...  I want to make love to you, ok?"

   She giggled and shook her head.  "No, Jonathan, that's not what you
want. You're not going to make love to me, and we both know it, don't we?
Come on..  say it or you won't get it." She kept taunting me, holding her
body just far enough away to tantalize but not satisfy.  And she kept
teasing me with her fingertips, all over my upper body.  I couldn't stand
any more.

   "Say it, Jonathan...  I know you want it, I can feel how much you want
it, I just want to hear you say it, Jonathan." For a long minute there was
no sound but my tortured breathing.  "SAY it, Jonathan, tell me what you
NEED, Jonathan, what do you need, Jonathan, what do you WANT?"

   "I want to fuck you!  All right, I want to fuck you, I want to fuck you
until I can't see straight, I want to FUCK you,
Miss....ohjesussweetjesusohgod..."

   As soon as I'd said the words she was waiting to hear, Miss Hawkins had
lowered herself onto my erect and waiting cock.  I was buried deep within
her now, and she'd braced her hands on my chest as she settled onto me.  I
thought, honestly, that I was having an out-of-body experience.  Miss
Hawkins just stayed perfectly still for the longest time, just sitting on
me.  I didn't know what else to do, so I just waited.  And then...  she
started to squeeze.  She started to squeeze my cock while it was still
inside her.  Rhythmically, steadily, and oh god it felt so good.  I started
to involuntarily thrust upward into her.  She just grinned.  "Jonathan,
it's going to be a while before you're done, sweetheart.  You just came.."
God in heaven, I loved to hear those words from her mouth.  "...you just
came an hour ago, and you're young, but it's still going to be a while.  So
for now, you just lie there and don't move, OK?" I gasped, "uh-huh", and
did my best to lie still and submit to her ministrations.  After a few
minutes more of gentle squeezing, she began to move.  At first it was just
a gentle sort of circular swaying, but then she started to slide up and
down on me.  For a while, she was barely moving; just sliding up an inch
and back down.  It was excruciating for me to try not to thrust.  I wanted
to so badly, if she'd let me I just would have thrust so hard, out of
control, but she'd told me not to, so I laid still beneath her.

   After another eternity, she began to move a little more.  Her breathing
was coming faster, too, and there was more sway in her hips.  With a
slightly glazed expression, she murmured, "Watch me, Jonathan".

   How could I not?  Her breasts were bouncing up and down, her hips were
gyrating over me...  it was like something out of a dream.  And so I was
watching her when she began to slide her middle finger over her clit ( I
didn't know it was called that then, but I was still thunderstruck).  She
moaned, and started to fuck me harder, sliding up and down on my cock while
she tossed her head back and groaned.  "All right, Jonathan...  fuck me
NOW!" She didn't have to ask twice.  I started thrusting my cock up inside
her as she writhed up and down on it, my incoherent moans matching her
groans and sobs.  She started chanting something that sounded like "oh
Jonathan oh my best boy my best brightest boy oh yes oh yesyesyes that's
right that's perfect oh you are so perfect", while for my part I was just
crying out "I love you Miss Hawkins oh god I love you I love you" over and
over again.  Neither of us were very coherent, I think.  Suddenly her
muscles inside clenched down on my cock and began spasming, as she
shuddered on top of me and cried out my name, and I felt like angels were
singing somewhere as I began my orgasm into her sweet beautiful body.  I
came so hard and so long that afterward I was trembling.  And Miss Hawkins
didn't stop shuddering for another five minutes, at least, as she laid on
top of me, with me still inside her.  After awhile, she began stroking my
hair and kissing my neck and ears.

   She whispered to me, "Jonathan, you will always be mine..  no matter who
else you have, or where else you go; you will always belong to me." I just
breathed in her scent and lay still.