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Pythagoras Was Nowhere in the Picture
by Peter_Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)

***

Not always easy to "keep it professional" when your 
student is a beautiful and desirable young lady. I 
never mastered the art myself! (M/F-teen, 1st, rom)

***

Life as a private tutor is not without its perks. 

Teaching might well be termed the "noble profession," 
but at the same time it can set in train some 
diabolically risky situations. I should know....I have 
been a hired educationalist these last three decades 
and this is but one such early encounter.

New-Age thinking insists that obstacles and 
difficulties which befall us during our lives are in 
reality no more than "opportunities" in disguise. Such 
might be up for protracted debate admittedly, should a 
wayward semi carouse through your lounge-room one 
evening midway through CSI, or a herd of marauding 
bison trample you underfoot in South Dakota mid 
vacation. 

Denise though was infinitely more of a challenge!

I was in my mid thirties at the time. Having had it 
big-time with the State educational boards and being 
tired of High-School theatrics and the one dimensional 
power-plays inside most staff rooms, I decided I could 
do no worse as a private teacher.

As it happened, it proved to be a great career move. In 
charge of my own destiny finally, rather than being at 
the whim of some lame-brained politically incorrect 
school Principal, I developed a greater pride in my 
vocation, taking pleasure from helping individual 
students to understand what the education system 
appeared unable to pass-on within a class environment.

My specialty, if you can accurately describe it thus, 
is remedial work. Parents call me in when their child 
is having difficulty with mathematics or science – most 
usually around the sophomore stage but occasionally 
even in their final year.

Denise in fact had only nine months left to graduation.

Her father, a prominent up-state attorney, was from the 
"nothing short of perfection cuts it in this world" 
school of thinking. Straight A's for his children were 
the lowest acceptable ranking and anything less than 
the number one class position at year-end was an 
embarrassment to be endured. Failure was not an option 
let's say!

Denise as it happened sat well inside the top 
percentile band of math students...having done so since 
sixth grade. She had simply pulled down a B plus in an 
early year-twelve spot test which had been enough for 
her father to throw a nervy turn, insisting he call in 
a home tutor to 'rectify the problem' before it was too 
late. Denise was both demeaned and upset by the 
suggestion but like everyone else in the family, 
powerless to argue or reason with this particular 
control-freak.

Thus it was, I was ushered late that Friday afternoon 
into the lofty hallway of the Sanderson manor, a riot 
of mosaic flooring, scatter rugs and marble statues. 
Conrad Sanderson himself, splendidly attired in an 
Armani tuxedo and on his way to some sort of legal-
eagle ball downtown so I learned, escorted me up the 
semi-circular staircase to Denise's suite of rooms 
somewhere along the east wing. 

 "Just suss out her problem areas and help her as best 
you can," he muttered, knocking on his daughter's 
suite.

Best I describe for you in detail, the young lady who 
now stood before us.

 'Pretty,' does her an injustice. Just seventeen, 
Denise radiated both a poise and elegance that belied 
her years. Still attired in her immaculately pressed 
school uniform, everything about her was ultimately 
feminine and desirable. From the neat collar and cuffs 
of her blouse to the hem of her shortish but fully 
decent skirt, she exuded confidence and dignity. Her 
quite obviously natural copper-colored hair hung 
shoulder length, framing a somewhat inquisitive visage 
whose light blue eyes would have stopped a T-Rex in 
full flight. 

Together with smooth cheeks that had surely been 
sculptured from the finest alabaster on hand, backed-up 
with generous lips that would be in majorly serious 
demand in the coming years, here was a package that 
could not only reduce the average man to an outpouring 
of nonsensical gibberish but would be likely damaging 
more hearts in the short term than a regular intake of 
a Quarter-Pounder and fries. 

I shook her hand upon her father's introduction and 
noticed that she maintained eye-contact where other 
girls might have betrayed a hint of embarrassment or 
insecurity. 

Having been married for well over a decade... and 
happily so I may add, let me state for the record that 
I had never strayed from the fold, not even looked at 
another girl to be honest. This was but a child 
technically and yet something about her captivated me 
on the instant.

"Well I expect you will want to be getting on with it," 
Sanderson barked, obviously impatient to be on his way. 
"The housekeeper will let you out when you are 
finished," he added as a seeming afterthought, before 
heading off without so much as a backward glance. 
Denise looked momentarily embarrassed by his curt 
manner but smiled sweetly at me nevertheless. I 
followed her into the room.

Ultra feminine young girls normally have ultra feminine 
sleeping quarters. It emphasizes their sexual 
birthright and highlights their orientation. Denise as 
I said had a small suite of rooms to color her world. 
Her "ante-chamber" as one might assume it to be, 
contained classic period furniture that would have set 
daddy back many a long hour in the Supreme Court. 
Pretty light green drapes that matched the painted 
dιcor, hung at the huge bay window that was wide enough 
to host a leather-ingrained desk, presently piled up 
with school-books at one end. 

Another table, smaller, but with chairs clustered 
around it, sat against the left wall. Home to a state-
of-the-art computer system, it was to this that she led 
me. I had a momentary glimpse of an expansive bedroom 
through the far doorway, containing what looked like a 
four-poster adorned with a coverlet and cushions from 
the Persian Empire. Denise lived comfortably it 
appeared!

Ushering me to a chair she sat down herself, looking at 
me somewhat expectantly. I touched upon her father's 
concerns and asked if there were any areas she would 
like help with? Unable to nominate any she merely 
commented.

"It's just the way dad is Mr. Carr. He thinks anything 
less than total perfection is "failure." He wants me to 
go to Law school with a perfect one-hundred percent 
examination record." She lowered her pretty head for a 
moment.

"I don't even want to be a lawyer," she confided. I 
thought I could see a few embryonic tears and wanted to 
cuddle her more than anything right then. 

"What is it you would like to do then Denise?" I asked.

Hastily controlling her emotions she looked up again.

"Something with children... disadvantaged families," 
she replied. "I'd really like to make a difference to a 
few kids' lives. Give something back to people who have 
had way less fortunate lives than me."

It wasn't so much her words as the sincerity of them 
that touched me. I knew right then that she was more 
than just a pretty young girl... she was something else 
completely. She possessed the unfathomable, something I 
recognized and sadly....needed. 

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

 "Anyway Mr Carr," she said smiling once again, "Since 
you're here, maybe we should let you earn some of dad's 
money... right?' She leaned across the desk and 
retrieved some of her workbooks.
**
As it turned out, the session was not without purpose. 
Whilst she ranked at the fore-front of academic 
ability, perhaps the smartest young lady I ever had the 
pleasure of teaching, there were a few areas involving 
calculus and algorithmic logic that in her case, could 
benefit from a theoretical make-over. It wasn't that 
she had failed to understand anything, merely that she 
had never been taught correctly. 

By the second month, we had covered every aspect that 
needed attention. Her work ethic and retention 
capability quite astounded me but this paled into 
insignificance when measured against my own escalating 
obsession. 

I was beginning to think of nothing else but that next 
Friday night. I desperately needed to be near Denise, 
to share in some small measure a part of her life, 
however insignificant that might be to her. I would 
gaze unhindered at her beautiful face as she might work 
at a problem, those expressive blue eyes of hers when 
they would flash with youthful pleasure at the point 
she might resolve an equation.

It was the week after she turned eighteen that the 
equilibrium was for ever fractured.

Pulling into the manor's driveway at the appointed 8 
pm. I was surprised to see Sanderson striding forth 
angrily from the front porch towards the chauffeured 
Mercedes. Fully ignoring my presence, he climbed into 
the limo, barking instructions to the driver who lost 
no time in circumnavigating the huge fountain before 
accelerating swiftly back down the driveway up which I 
had just cruised.

The puzzle deepened when Denise herself opened the 
front door to me. 

"Is everything OK?" I asked.

"Sure," she answered, a large smile creasing her face. 
"It's just daddy – he fired the housekeeper a few 
moments ago." She actually broke out into giggles. 
"Laura had just polished one of the hallway floors and 
dad slipped on it and spilt coffee all over himself. He 
was soo mad!" She all but collapsed in mirth at the 
recalled image it seemed.

"Well isn't that rather unreasonable?" I asked. "She 
was only doing her job." 

 "That's my dad," she replied, "But it's Ok, he'll calm 
down and re-hire her next week, he's done it before." 
She added breezily.

Closing the front door, she led me back to her rooms. 
That was no hardship I have to be honest. Following a 
teenage girl up a reasonably steep flight of stairs 
when she is wearing a figure-hugging white dress that 
clings to everything it was fundamentally designed to 
latch on to – is, if one is honest – well, fun! I 
wondered whether she even knew that the opaque nature 
of the garment did little to shield her modesty so far 
as undergarments were concerned. Now as it happens, I 
like pastel blue panties as much as the next private 
tutor and those that were wiggling up those risers not 
eighteen inches from my gaze, were indeed a source of 
inspiration.

You can understand then that my peristaltic rate was 
unusually high by the time we sat down at the desk. My 
mind was definitely not on things mathematical. As she 
worked at the first of a few problems I set for her, my 
gaze fell, as they had done many times previously I 
must be honest, upon the upper part of her dress. 
Adrift to the third button, it was enough let's say, to 
display her small but delightful cleavage, not to 
mention a substantial ribbon of lacy bra. Even chiding 
myself for such voyeuristic pleasures, I was unable to 
wrench my gaze from that field of dreams. It was at 
that second she happened to look up and catch my 
decadent line of vision.

I think we blushed equally.

It's funny how one often makes with the dumbest of 
comments when caught in a personally embarrassing 
situation. I simply looked at her and muttered. "I'm so 
sorry Denise... it's just that, well I think you are so 
beautiful." It's hardly a plausible excuse for staring 
fixedly at a teenage girl's breasts but certainly it 
was the truth.

Instinctively she raised her hand to her chest, which 
only served to heighten my desire.

"Do you really think I'm pretty?" she whispered.

The weeks of unspoken affection could no longer be 
suppressed. I leaned across and kissed her gently on 
the cheek. For a moment she said nothing, simply 
looking at me with what must have been shocked 
bemusement. The blush lingered however and I could 
hardly fail to notice that she had made no move to 
either distance herself from me or to air the least of 
reprimands. Her body language if anything, suggested a 
complicity of sorts.

Once again I inclined my head towards her and 
discerning still no implied resistance, I kissed her on 
the lips.

When a girl wants to be kissed, it is very obvious. 
When you have been desperate to kiss her for a couple 
of months or more, the odds are the floodgates will 
open of their own accord.

I don't even recall pulling her on to my lap, all I 
remember is the softness and sweet taste of her young 
lips. Holding her to me, I reveled in her warmth and 
seductive perfume as I continued kissing her 
passionately. Eventually we broke off, both quite 
obviously in respiratory distress.

 "I have wanted you to kiss me for ages," she said, 
looking up at me with what might have been pleasured 
victory.

 "No more than my own thoughts on the matter Denise," I 
murmured. "I have wanted to do this just about since I 
met you."

I could see clearly down her cleavage those delicately 
receding curves. She appeared not to mind in the least. 
Intending to define the rules of the game a little 
further, I kissed her neck then her collar-bone. The 
girl's sharp intake of breath suggested I was moving in 
a positive direction. Kissing her literally an inch 
above her right breast brought both a cry of surprise 
and a definitive wriggle of her hips. It also wrought 
changes to certain anatomical areas of my own...none 
that I was wanting her to notice right that moment you 
can understand. 

Kissing is downright dangerous if you're serious about 
it! Denise was committed to learning, no doubt about 
it! Unable to prevent my hands from their own little 
trek of indecency, I suddenly found a wonderfully soft 
and pliant little breast within the confines of my 
right palm. Its owner looked at me and sighed as I 
squeezed that oh-so-desirable mound. 

I think she had in mind to say, "No, don't," but 
nothing ever eventuated and thus I not only continued 
to fondle that which I shouldn't, but my hand slid it's 
illicit way deep inside her bra where tactility ran 
riot and the sighs multiplied threefold. She raised her 
own hand to mine – not to remove it but to ensure I 
think that her breasts might remain cupped and fondled 
until time ran out. 

"I've never had a boyfriend," she whispered to me 
between breaths, "Dad refuses to let me have one." 

I wasn't sure right that moment whether I viewed that 
as an act of cruelty or one of gratuitous sexual 
opportunity. Either way I had a wife at home and doing 
what I was with an inexperienced and majorly vulnerable 
young lady was, if not downright reprehensible, way 
left field of responsible! It's definitely not what I 
signed-on for with the Parish Priest. The deductive 
process however is stymied when one is on the road to 
inflamed passion in a teenage girl's bedroom suite, the 
senses intoxicated by a heady mix of girlish scents and 
the seductive delights of a partially exposed bosom.

There was also the inescapable fact that in some way I 
needed this girl. Needed her closeness, her intrinsic 
inner beauty and her intellect...if that makes any 
sense?

With an arm around her shoulders holding her to me, I 
had just the one hand free for other things - not that 
this was any great hardship. Turning my attentions to 
Denise's other breast, I had both pretty much three-
quarters out of their bra cups with now just a hint of 
nipple either side. I decided to push the boundaries 
yet further and began to undo another button. 

Oddly, Denise just sat there looking downwards as her 
dress gaped yet wider, revealing in all its provocative 
glory that sexy little nylon restraint. Cupping her 
breasts with both hands brought forth a formative moan 
from that half-open if not delicate mouth. It was 
definitely time to kiss those lips a little more. 

Risking a full scale rebellion, I gradually lowered my 
mouth to the girl's fully exposed cleavage. A sharp 
intake of breath heralded my initial contact. The smell 
of her breasts in such close proximity I have to say, 
was addling my thought processes. I wanted her more 
than any female I was ever privy to be with. For her 
part, even as I began kissing her breasts along their 
upper perimeter, she closed her eyes and leaned back 
against my shoulder breathing hard, to compensate I 
imagine for her increased pulse-rate.

Very gently, I eased both breasts clear of their padded 
crθche. A more beautiful and desirable sight I had 
never seen. Lowering my mouth further, I drew down upon 
her right nipple which caused her to shudder with 
unforced pleasure. Latching on to that wondrously hot 
little teat I suckled her then, taking such pleasure 
myself as I am incapable of describing accurately. 
Making the cutest of little sounds, she opened her 
pretty eyes and the expression there-in was one of 
pleading expectation. I began to draw down now on her 
other breast – dead center. 

I don't even know if she was aware that she was arching 
her back in an instinctive attempt to thrust her young 
breasts out more prominently. I can't say I was 
actually dwelling on this possibility. All I knew is 
that I wanted to suck those eighteen-year old nipples 
until either the Police showed up or her Father took me 
out with an AK47.

What man would be satisfied with his achievements thus 
far? What man could be??

Even as I continued tenderly suckling the girl, my 
right hand re-located itself low down on her thigh, 
just above the knee. I began caressing the soft skin 
through her dress which at this juncture was fulfilling 
its purpose by maintaining an impressive level of 
modesty. 

Gradually my hand slipped lower although I took care to 
maintain a caressing action rather than anything more 
intrusive. Just a few inches below her knee I reached 
the hem of her dress. The skin there at the back of her 
legs was like hot silk. Deliberately I stopped kissing 
her momentarily as I wanted to gauge her reaction to 
this latest line of offense. 

She certainly was interested in my modus operendi, to 
judge by her yelp of surprise as my hand slipped 
beneath her dress, commencing its imperceptible ascent 
north. She permitted all troop movements up until mid 
thigh level where the heat was approaching that of a 
tropical rain-forest. Despite having instinctively 
spread her legs meanwhile, she placed her hand atop 
mine, shaking her head slowly and murmuring "No, 
please...no further." 

Now think about it logically. A teenage girl sits on 
your knee willingly, her cleavage not ten inches from 
your face. She encourages you to kiss her, responds in 
kind, having no objection when you begin fondling her 
breasts. She permits you to not only put your hand down 
her top but to undo the buttons of her dress and gaze 
at her bra, before exposing her breasts totally in 
order that you may suck them stupid. She then lets you 
caress her leg and knees before slipping your hand up 
her dress and feeling her up as far as mid thigh. 

Then she calls a halt to proceedings under the rights 
of the citizen act? I don't think so!

What she is saying of course is "I'm scared!"

Holding her hands, I just looked into those deep blue 
pools of hers. "You're safe with me sweetie," I told 
her. "I know you've never done anything like this and 
you're desperate to know what it's like, right? I 
understand it's a huge step for you Denise but it's one 
you have to decide to take – I can't do it for you." 
She was studying me now closer than ever.

"For what it's worth sweetheart, I want you more than 
anything else – not just for the sake of sex but 
because there's something about you I just frankly have 
fallen in love with these last two months. I know have 
no right to expect anything from you, I shouldn't even 
be doing this at all. I am being completely unfair to 
my wife... to my own conscience even. It's just 
something I never thought I would do. Having said all 
that though, it changes little. You're still sitting on 
my knee and I can think of nothing else but making love 
to you." It looked to me like there were the beginnings 
of a few tears in her eyes.

"That wasn't my intention either sweetheart – to upset 
you I mean." I added somewhat meekly. |If you want this 
to stop right now – tell me, I will respect and 
understand your decision totally." 

I might have expected one of several responses but 
certainly not that which I received.

Giving me a gentle but rather loving kiss, she slid off 
my lap then turning slightly, took my hand in hers. 
Leading me through the doorway to the left of the table 
at which we had been seated, she ushered me into the 
main bedroom. Her feminine influence was everywhere 
from the pinks and pastels to the half a dozen stuffed 
animals on her pillows. It was a beautiful girl's room 
for the most beautiful girl.

Relinquishing my hand, she sat down on the edge of the 
bed. Words were not necessary!

Seating myself alongside, I kissed her once more. 
Whether she lay back of her own accord or I instigated 
proceedings I really cannot recall, but moments later 
we were both lying full-length on the coverlet, Denise 
on her back, me on my side facing her. At no stage had 
she buttoned up and thus her pert young breasts still 
lay open to my gaze, fully adrift from her gaping top. 
Provocatively displayed as she was, my immediate 
interest lay within certain latitudes south of the 
equator. Maintaining eye contact with her, I slipped my 
left hand beneath the hem of her dress as before, 
having determined a fixed route to the north this time. 

Once more a soft cry of shocked surprise issued from 
the girl's lips as her dress was eased high enough to 
display the first glimpse of her light pink panties – 
cute and frilly much like their white counterpart in 
the northern climes. Instinctively trying to cover them 
with her hands – a gesture I found extremely arousing – 
I had simply to grasp her arms and return them to her 
side. Understandably nervous in the extreme, she 
nevertheless showed what I considered great 
determination in allowing me to continue my progressive 
abuse of her young body.

The first of many audible gasps accompanied my total 
exposure of those rather skimpy briefs. For a few 
seconds I could but stare at such total perfection. 
That wonderfully flat girlish stomach giving way to 
pronounced flared hips that were highlighted so 
delightfully by those sexy little knickers. The 
prominence of her as yet hidden vulva concealed as it 
was by that colored rayon fabric – those sexy curves 
descending tantalizingly between her legs. I was just 
able to make-out a darkish area beneath, that could 
only be pubic hair...curls actually, to judge by the 
two or three stragglers I could see peeking out rather 
suggestively.

Only three inches from her panties now, I worked my 
hand more towards the inside of her leg which not only 
made her wriggle slightly but caused her to part her 
knees sufficient that the front of her panties was now 
quite visible. It wasn't something one could really 
overlook. Wishing to tease her no longer I allowed 
myself the luxury of actually brushing up against the 
soft material with the side of my hand. She reacted as 
is scalded, apologizing immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm 
just not used to any of this it's all so new to me."

Might have been "new" to her but to me it was heaven on 
earth! Opting for the more direct approach now, I laid 
my hand across the front of those searingly hot panties 
of hers and with my index finger began indenting the 
front of them the whole way down between her legs. I 
could feel the heat emanating from that virginal 
crevice right through the soft material. 

Unable to prevent herself arching upwards slightly and 
despite the obvious embarrassment of her predicament, 
more than one soft moan was now audible. I began to 
caress the flatlands, smoothing my way across her lithe 
tummy before returning to center stage to rub and apply 
pressure to her entire vaginal area. 

Once she was comfortable with this latest development 
(and what it was doing to me anatomically is best left 
unspoken) I leaned forward and kissed her slightly 
below the belly button. Again a little cry of shock as 
I continued to kiss her, locked-on to a southerly 
trajectory as I was, planting one final smooch dead 
center of her panties. That brought on a couple of 
"Ohhs" with some accompanying hip wriggles.

It was really time to divest her of her outer-wear 
although I must say, sprawled on her back like that, 
her dress pushed up to her hips, legs slightly apart 
with both her panties and breasts fully exposed, did 
have its visual benefits!

"May I take your dress of sweetie?" I asked.

She looked at me for a moment, unsure exactly of what 
this might be committing her to in the short term. 
Sitting up then, she reached behind her back and 
unzipped herself. Easing her on to her tummy achieved 
two goals. Firstly, the ability to pull the dress off 
and following that, the relatively simple task remained 
of extricating her bra also. I was faced then with what 
– up to that moment at least – was the sexiest image I 
had ever encountered. 

Just three days into her eighteenth year and being a 
rather small girl – five-two at the most, she looked, 
lying there face down on the coverlet in just her 
panties, like a highly vulnerable fourteen or fifteen 
year old girl sleeping. It was an scenario I found 
highly conducive to my on-going arousal.

Unable to pass-up the opportunity, I gave her a gentle 
spank on that curvy little bottom. She gave a cry of 
probably genuine shock and turned to look at me. 

"Why did you do that?' she giggled

"Because sweetheart," I replied, "you have the sexiest 
little bottom it has ever been my pleasure to 
encounter. Allow me to give you one more!"

I have this theory that most girls find being spanked 
highly arousing. Never met one yet didn't like it. In 
any event Denise just turned her head back to the 
coverlet and if I didn't know better, wriggled that 
sexy little rear-end of hers just enough to register 
her thoughts on the matter.

The follow-up was a doozie. Denise yelped as my hand 
impacted across both cheeks causing them to ripple 
momentarily. Reaching behind her she covered her bottom 
with both hands. "No more," she frowned, "that really 
hurt!"

For fear of overstaying my welcome, I apologized and 
retracted my hand. Call me perverted, but if you have 
never had the privilege of spanking a teenage girl at 
some juncture, then your life must by necessity be that 
much poorer for the loss. 

Kneeling alongside her hips I figured the best course 
of action right that moment might be Knight to Queen's 
Bishop 3. My eyes still glued to her pert little bottom 
I slipped a hand up between her legs and applied some 
digital pressure to the precise spot on her panties 
where I knew her vaginal lips must be concealed. The 
effect was immediate. Quite forgetting about her ill-
treated rear-end, she gasped in surprise and closed up 
her legs – a fully automated defense move.

One can always find a counter-move in any given 
situation.

In this case, taking a hold of the waistband of her 
panties and pulling them two thirds down her bottom 
seemed to me very appropriate. Whether you'd call it a 
gasp or a squeal I'm not sure, but certainly she had 
her hands behind her in an attempt to salvage some 
modesty, before you could say "how rude!"

Completely over-awed by the sight of her partially 
exposed rear crevice and incredibly smooth cheeks, 
reddish as one side was, I did what any aroused male 
would have done. I leaned forward and kissed her bottom 
softly. 

"Don't pull my panties down... please," she whimpered, 
whilst making no further effort to tug them back up 
though I noted.

By the fourth kiss - slightly higher, at the very base 
of her spine in fact, she was wriggling herself stupid. 
Despite her protestations, I managed to peel her 
panties off altogether, yielding finally that which I 
had imagined, but in my wildest dreams could never have 
hoped to see – Denise undressed and at my procreative 
mercy. To say that she was beautiful in her nakedness 
is to laughably understate the situation. She was every 
man's greatest desire!

Slowly I turned her over, allowing her to cover her 
pussy with both hands as I did so. It left more than 
enough to admire, believe me. Her expression was one of 
complete trepidation yet innocent expectancy, 
discomfort yet seductive encouragement.

"Would you let me see you sweetheart?" I asked softly, 
glancing down at her hands.

Shyly but bravely she slowly brought her hands apart. I 
think I gulped! I know I was close to being rendered 
catatonic.

To be afforded the privilege of gazing at that which a 
teenage girl has never let anyone see before is almost 
a humbling experience. Those incredibly sculptured 
downward curves of her clearly moist vaginal lips, 
hemmed in on all sides by that triangle of protective 
but equally provocative little brown curls...that my 
friends, is something you can never buy on eBay.

Already besotted with her, I was overcome now by 
feelings of passionate need and protective intent. 
Other facets to my life had ceased to have meaning. 
With no game plan whatsoever I pulled her on top of me 
and kissed her with an intensity I never knew I 
possessed. She responded eagerly and I was a boy again. 

With her breasts crushed up against my shirt I was 
vaguely aware of holding her around her bottom whilst 
her legs draped either side of my own. Occasionally she 
would arch her back upwards, so that her pretty dark 
brown hair would cascade in my face while she regarded 
me fixedly between kisses. I think she knew also the 
extent to which her naked breasts were driving me crazy 
in that position. In the space of two minutes we had 
reversed roles. It was she was now the teacher and me 
the committed student. 

I'm not sure if she was aware I had unzipped my pants, 
though logic would suggest she would have to be. I do 
know that she made no attempt of any sort either 
physical or verbal, to dissuade me from my course and 
even as I fumbled beneath her abdomen, extricating my 
swollen and desperately needful erection, she was still 
permitting me to kiss her passionately.

At that angle, and especially given that the girl's 
legs were substantially apart as she straddled me, 
locating her vaginal ingress proved something less than 
a major feat of engineering. Penetration however was 
not without its initial glitch.

Most seventeen/eighteen-year old girls, even if they 
are still technically virgins, have generally loosened 
up the general area courtesy of their own or their 
boyfriend's fingers during certain moments of self-
gratification shall we say?. The hymen you may assume 
has frequently lost a degree of elasticity at least.

Denise however must have been a very good girl, for 
despite her obvious willingness if not desire to part 
with her virginity that day, its accomplishment was not 
without considerable application on her part. 

"No, I really want you to do it to me," she pleaded, 
when I offered to withdraw from the playing field as it 
was obviously hurting her a lot. 

Eventually we worked our way through the minefield – 
mainly by way of her controlling depth and pressure 
with her own hips and I was able to sink deeply inside 
that ragingly hot cavern for the first time.

I can still see her lips open in silent pleasure as I 
began to thrust up into her. She minded neither my 
hands as they caressed her bottom from hip to thigh nor 
my face as it nuzzled her breasts atop me. All she 
seemed to care about was what I was doing to her with 
that swollen rod I had inside her. I did a lot too... 
even if I do say so myself!

There is probably nothing more sexually encouraging 
than a pretty and majorly innocent young girl pleading 
with you to "fuck her" when you are doing just that. 
Not words I can ever imagine Denise having used in her 
short life, she appeared suddenly to have an expanded 
vocabulary on site. 

Fuck her I did though and in every conventional 
position. An attentive student to the end, she showed 
great aptitude for her chosen subject. By the time we 
had run the gauntlet of: missionary, all-fours center 
quilt and draped half-off the end of the bed with her 
hands on the carpet, it's line-ball who was the most 
seriously skinned. Eventually we just curled up in that 
bed and slept for a while.

I was so in love with this girl I could think of 
nothing but holding and nuzzling her. For a while I 
just lay there watching her sleep and caressing her 
hair. I had no idea what the following day might bring, 
let alone the rest of my life.

At the point Conrad Sanderson knocked at his daughter's 
door two hours later, calling out "Denise, would you 
come out here now please?" I had a lot on my mind!

(c) Peter_Pan 2008

Please visit "The World of Peter_Pan"
http://www.geocities.com/phrenetic_ice/wopp.html

Now available in paperback "The Best of Peter_Pan"
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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 55