My name is Patrick and I was seventeen when I fucked and had an affair with my married thirty-seven-year-old black teacher, Mrs. Jennings. I am fifty-five now so all this took place in the early eighties.
When I was seventeen I was an arrogant, cocky kid and I thought I had a right to be. I was very good-looking with a well-built body that I kept in shape with weights, running, sit-ups, pushups, and other exercises. At seventeen I stood six feet two inches tall, with well-defined muscles but not overly bulky like a bodybuilder, light brown hair short hair, blue eyes that I still get compliments on to this day, and a very handsome face. Basically, I was one of those hot guys girls looked at, and yes I knew it and I noticed it. I was also a very good athlete and played football and baseball for my high school. I was such a good football player that my ability got me a scholarship at a Division II college.
Another thing that made me cocky and arrogant was the fact I knew how to please a woman sexually even being a seventeen-year-old boy. I knew this because at the time my story starts I was two months out of a sexual-only relationship that lasted for about eight months with a thirty-two-year-old woman who had a thing for younger boys. Diane lived in the same apartment complex as I did and she was rather kinky and taught me a lot about sex, and Diane and I fucked a lot until she moved out of the complex we lived in. To add to my arrogance I also knew I had a very nice cock. At seventeen it was nine inches long and had a nice girth to it. Yes, I knew the length and girth because Diane told me it was bigger than average and she measured it once.
Growing up it was just me and my mother who worked and we lived in apartments since I was four, ever since my parents got divorced. I never saw much of my father. My mother did not want me to go to a public school for high school, even though I wanted to because that’s where all my friends went, but she sent me to a private school. Now the private school I went to was not some elite, fancy, expensive school at all. It was the least expensive private school in the city I lived, like most private schools in the south it was founded by a church (Baptist church for my school) and was one my mother could afford with a little help financially from my grandparents.
The school had only about one hundred and fifty students in their ninth to twelfth grade, heck my class graduated only twenty-eight students and it was considered one of the largest classes. Being founded by an Independent Baptist Church they focused a great deal on religion, much more so than they did on academics. We did have sports teams and competed in Division 1 Private and Parochial Schools division; basically other Private Christian Schools. The school also had a lot of rules and a dress code.
Boys had to keep their hair cut short, over the ears, and off the collar in the back, girls had to wear dresses that could not be more than an inch above the knees and when we had gym classes boys could not go into the gym when girls had gym class and vice versa and other rules that were biblically based. I had a few good teachers but most were more on the religious fanatic side, and I had some good friends at school but I called them school friends because I never hung out with them out of school. Most of my very good friends were kids that lived in the apartment complex and went to public school. My football/baseball coach really liked me and it was with his help that I got my scholarship. Other members of the faculty did not like me that much and one was the principal, Mr. Jennings. But that was fine by me because I never liked that fat son of a bitch either, but I did like his wife.
Mrs. Jennings was my English/Music teacher and I thought she was attractive and sexy. She was also very nice, had a good sense of humor, was a good teacher, and almost all the students liked her. She truly cared for her students and their performance in her class. While I had a crush on her and thought she was sexy the other boys at school did not agree with me. The reason they did not agree or admit that they thought Mrs. Jennings was attractive and sexy as I did was that Mrs. Jennings was black. She was not only the only black teacher at the small private school; she was the only black person on campus. We had no black students.
It was not odd or abnormal for some of the private schools in our county to not have black students. Most people don’t realize that a lot of private schools in the south, maybe other states as well, were founded in the 1960s and early 1970s when public schools started to integrate. White parents did not want their kids to go to school with black kids. All of the private schools in my area were founded with support from a church.
Of the five private schools in my city, two had black students. One was the Catholic Private school that was founded in the late 1800s and the other was the Presbyterian Private school founded about ten years later. The Protestants wanted their own school to counter the Catholics. Both of those schools were very elite and very expensive and offered great academic studies. Like the school I went to, the other two private schools were founded within the past fifteen or twenty years and while the tuition was more than the school I went to, it was not as high as the more prestigious Catholic and Presbyterian schools. Both of those schools cost as much as college tuition and, depending on the college, even more.
Mrs. Jennings’s husband was white, extremely overweight, and about seven or maybe eight years older than his black wife. He had been the school principal for six years, longer than I attended the school, but Mrs. Jennings had only been a teacher at the school for the past two years and my senior year would be her third year. Before that, she was teaching at the local community college. She came to teach at our school because of a shortage of teachers available at the school. I knew they had been married since she graduated college but that was the extent of what I knew about her personal life at the time.
All the teachers had to be members of the church that sponsored the school and devoted Christians. Most, especially the elementary teachers had no teaching skills or experience and were just men or women who went to the church and had a college degree and were asked to get a teaching certificate and teach. The pay was much lower than other schools, both public and private. Mrs. Drew, our high school history teacher, was from Cuba and knew nothing about history. She was hot though and was the teacher all the boys lusted after. Our school focused more on trying to “save” the students and on the King James Version of the Bible than they did on academics. They taught just the bare minimum academics required by the state for a student to get a diploma.
Another thing that made it odd for the school to hire Mr. Jennings as its principal and have Mrs. Jennings teach there was that the religious board members, who the pastor of the church was the president, did not believe in interracial dating. They never came out and directly said the reason they did not allow black students was because they were afraid of interracial dating, but it was hinted at often. I think they hired Mr. Jennings because he was very close to being fanatical in his religion and very devout and he did have an impeccable background in education on his resume. He was also a pervert to an extent.
In my sophomore year, one of my female friends at school, who had ample breasts already, was sent to his office because she was told her top was too low cut. She told me Mr. Jennings made her feel very uncomfortable because he kept staring at her cleavage the entire time he was telling her how inappropriate her top was. I noticed other times he stared at the other girls at school like that as well.
Mrs. Jennings was thirty-seven and petite. She could not have been more than five feet three inches tall and I assumed she weighed only about one hundred and fifteen or twenty pounds. The only reason I think she weighed that much was because of her large breasts and what I thought was a fantastic ass. Her hair was as black as midnight, curly, and kinked out from her head and then fell down to her shoulders, a popular hairstyle for black women in the 1980s. Mrs. Jennings had smooth dark brown espresso color skin that was free of any blemishes. Her face was cute with a slightly wide but not flat nose and flared nostrils, high cheekbones, and a small mouth with nice full lips.
She wore little makeup. She wore conservative dresses and skirts and loose-fitting tops and frumpy clothes, but that could not completely hide her figure. I thought if she wore a canvas tarp for a dress it would not hide her figure. I tried to be politically correct and not stereotype, but to describe her physical features as best as I can, Mrs. Jennings had the physical attributes of a stereotypical black woman.
I mentioned that I thought some of her body weight came from her breasts and butt and I was not exaggerating. At seventeen I was not an expert on a woman’s bra size but I would have assumed she had thirty-four or maybe even thirty-six-sized C cup breasts. Not being a guy who is much into breasts, I never cared about a girl’s breast size; it was Mrs. Jennings’s ass that always had my attention. She had a glorious butt. It bubbled out behind her but as far as I could tell from the clothes she wore, it looked as if it was still tight. I may have been wrong because it was hard to judge from her clothes, but it looked like it was, or at least I fantasized it was. She did not have wide hips though so that made her butt look even more delicious. Also based on the clothes I had only ever seen her wear it appeared she had a thin waist.
I would wonder what her thighs looked like. Mrs. Jennings never wore a dress or skirt that came above her knees and when she sat down she did so in such a lady-like manner her dress or skirt never rode up above her knees. Her legs below her knees were shapely and sexy. I wondered if she had thicker thighs like the black girls that lived in the apartments where I lived had. They would show them off in the summertime by wearing tight short, shorts.
My crush on Mrs. Jennings was not all-consuming or out of control. It was just a slight crush and yes I thought about what it would be like to fuck her, and while I thought about her at times when I masturbated, she did not make her way into my jerk-off fantasies every night, just on occasion. She was an attractive black woman but not one of those women men would call “super-hot”, a “raving beauty”, or an “ebony goddess”. She was not an older woman in her late thirties that looked many years younger. She did look her age or maybe a couple of years younger, but I found her attractive.
Maybe I had a crush on her because after fucking Diane as much as I did I now had a thing for older women, maybe it was because she was so nice and ladylike and classy and prim and proper. Maybe I thought about fucking her because I hated her fat husband, maybe because she was a black woman and I had never had sex with a black woman and found the black girls in my neighborhood sexy. Hell, maybe it was all of those things.
It could have been that I wanted her because Mrs. Jennings was unattainable and pure. At seventeen I had sex with four girls. The first was Selina who lived in our apartment complex and was two years older than me. She was pretty and had a reputation for being a slut, which was justified. I fucked her on several different occasions and even once talked her into a threesome with me and my best friend Michael.
Then there was Karen and Rhonda. They were sisters. Karen was nineteen at the time and Rhonda was sixteen, my age at the time. They lived in one of the houses on the street that backed up to our apartment complex and both were promiscuous. I had sex with Rhonda in her room and when we were done she left the room and her older sister Karen came into the room and said it was her turn.
Then there was my sexual relationship with Diane. Diane was a sexual freak, no other way to describe her, with several kinks and fetishes.
Diane liked to be controlled and somewhat dominated by her male lovers, she liked sex toys used on her, she enjoyed being tied up, and she enjoyed anal sex and other sexual kinky activities. Diane taught me so much and not only to be a dominant lover but also how to please a girl sexually. She taught me not all girls or women enjoyed being dominated or having rough sex and taught me how to make love with passion as well. I was neither the first nor going to be the last younger man she had sex with and she told me she also had sex with girls. Of my sexual experiences, I never dated or had sex with a girl who was not slutty or innocent, or black.
Something that bugged me about Mrs. Jennings was that I don’t think she liked me very much. I knew her husband did not, her fat ass husband hated me. In my junior year, I briefly dated a girl from school and Mr. Jennings actually called her into his office and advised her not to date me. Told her I was not the type of boy she should date. I don’t know what he said that except the fact he just disliked me that much. The girl ignored him and we dated for about three months but never had sex and I never pushed the issue on her. I knew she was a virgin and a good girl. We broke up and remained very good friends afterward. So maybe Mrs. Jennings’s husband influenced his wife’s judgment about me.
While she was fair and impartial in my grades and classwork, I could tell by the tone of her voice when she answered my questions or asked me questions, or spoke directly to me in class that she did not seem to care for me much. I was not a class clown or a bully or act out in classes like some of the other kids so I did not know why she did not seem to like me. In my junior year, she gave me detention and said I had a smart mouth and in front of the class she said I would learn that I could not get away with things in life just on my looks and charm.
It was when we were studying a poem about Mary and Joseph in a cherry tree grove. Mary asked Joseph to pick her some cherries and Joseph replied for her to ask the man who got her with child to pick them for her. The poem went on about how God picked Mary some cherries and how Joseph then came to believe Jesus was God’s son. Mrs. Jennings asked the class what was the significance of the cherries. I answered it was because of Mary’s virginity. Of course, some of the kids in class laughed. Now I was being serious and not making a joke, but Mrs. Jennings saw it differently.
My affair started with Mrs. Regina Jennings the first week in August before I was to start my senior year of high school. The school year was to start in a week and a half and I had just finished the second football practice in the afternoon of our weeks of two-a-days. I had stayed after practice to work out in the weight room and was at my car, my car was a 1973 yellow Volks Wagon Beetle Bug when I saw Mrs. Jennings carrying boxes into the music classroom. I know not the most masculine car for me to have, but it was my mother’s and she had recently bought a new car and gave me the Bug. I felt very grateful to even have a car.
The music classroom was really just a small single-wide trailer set a little apart from the rest of the buildings. Feeling bad she was carrying boxes all by herself and also wanting just to talk to her, I walked over and asked if I could help. Mrs. Jennings was wearing a pair of conservative white shorts that fit loosely on the legs and waist, but tight around her butt. She had her hair pulled tight to her scalp and in a ponytail that fizzled out after the band that held her ponytail in place. I don’t think she could have found anything in her size that did not fit tight around her awesome ass. She had on a button-down red blouse and while not very tight across the chest her breasts were still very noticeable. I had never seen her dressed in anything but conservative dresses or skirts and got my first look at what her body looked like in something more revealing. I was very impressed with what I saw.
She did not see me walking over to her so I took the time to admire what I was looking at without getting busted for leering. I walked to her very slowly so I could keep looking. She had nice legs and yes she had thicker thighs but not too thick or fat and she did not have what women refer to as “saddlebag hips”. As I watched her place herself in different positions to move the boxes I got several nice views of her body. Mrs. Jennings had a nice hourglass figure and her butt bubbled out more than I had been able to notice in her loose-fitting dressed and skirts. Once, she turned her back to me, and with her feet close together she bent over to pick up a box.
Even with her thicker thighs, I could see she had a nice thigh gap between her legs. Her shorts and panties had ridden up her butt crack and I thought I could see the mound of her pussy, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. If I had to rate Mrs. Jennings on a scale of one to ten, seeing her every day at school I would have said she was a six, maybe a seven. Seeing her in the clothes she had on that day and getting a much better look at her body, my rating went up to an eight maybe nine.
As for me, I was wearing a sweat-soaked half tee shirt and gym shorts; now this was the early eighties and the style of gym shorts back then was short and a little tight. We now call that style from back in the day “Magnum PI Shorts.”
When I got closer to her and offered my help, she gave a flinch from me startling her and she looked at me and I saw doubt in her eyes, she frowned, and I saw her petite body tighten. That annoyed me.
“Ok, never mind then, I was just trying to be nice and my mother taught me to be a gentleman and help women in need.” That was true.
After a couple of seconds, Mrs. Jennings seemed to relax and smiled at me.
“I am sorry, you just startled me,” she took a pause and a deep breath, “yes, Patrick, that is so sweet. I would appreciate your help. These boxes are heavy,” Mrs. Jennings told me.
Maybe it was the mention of my mother that made her relax. After getting to know her through parent-teacher meetings my mother thought very highly of Mrs. Jennings and Mrs. Jennings thought the same about my mother. She respected my mother for being a single mother and working hard.
I started to unload and carry the boxes in the trailer and I did not think they were all that heavy but Mrs. Jennings was so small and petite I could see where she would think so. I even carried a few stacked together and she actually laughed and playfully called me a show-off. She was acting much more friendly to me than she ever had before. The boxes were filled with books, music sheets, and other things she needed for her classroom.
“I can help you unpack if you want? I don’t have anything to do this afternoon,” I offered. She was bending over and unpacking a box and my eyes were focused on her butt. I could not understand why she married that fat ass husband of hers.
Mrs. Jennings looked over her shoulder and blushed when she caught me staring at her butt and she stood up. “That would be great,” she said. She was a lady and had class and ignored my obvious staring.
“I heard Coach Parker is helping you get a football scholarship,” She said as we unpacked boxes and she directed me where to put things. She no longer talked to me as teacher-to-student but as just two normal people having a conversation.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“That’s great, Patrick. You deserve it because you are very good. Last year you were the county’s player of the week three or four times?”
“Five,” I answered and puffed out my chest. I was proud of that. “You like football?”
“Oh, yes. My older brother played in college at NC State. He was also drafted to the NFL in the fourth round by Cleveland, but in his second professional game he got hurt and the injury ended his career.” She looked at me and gave me a stern look, “That’s why you need to also focus on your school work and graduate college. You never can tell what may happen. Don’t just rely on your athletic ability to get through life,” her tone became once more like teacher Mrs. Jennings.
“Or my good looks and charm,” I teased her.
Mrs. Jennings blushed, “You still remember I told you that?”
“Yes. Kind of hurt my feelings to have a teacher I respect and like so much say that to me,” I told her. It really didn’t hurt my feelings. I was just trying to flirt with her and I added the like and respect for her to let her know I did like her.
Mrs. Jennings shook her head, “Well it was an inappropriate comment and a vulgar comment to refer to a woman’s virginity, especially the mother of our Lord and Savior.” She then grinned at me and it was a mischievous grin, one I had never seen on the fair but strict teacher, “Actually in some folklore the gift of a cherry, or similar fruit carrying its own seed, is a divine authentication of human fertility.”
I grinned back, “So I was right.”
Mrs. Jennings laughed, she had a nice laugh, “It was still vulgar and I was right to call you out on out and give you detention.”
“And call me nice looking and charming. Don’t forget that.” I was getting bolder with her since we seemed to be on a more friendly basis.
Mrs. Jennings turned her head and I could see she was blushing again. She cleared her throat and moved to the desk in the trailer and idly started to rearrange items on the desk. I could tell she was uncomfortable and maybe I went a little too far. I mentally kicked myself for ruining the nicety between us.
“My mom can’t afford a tutor,” I said to break the silence; anything to make the room more comfortable.
Mrs. Jennings turned to face me again, “Yes, you do need to work on your grades and do well on the SATs.” She smiled at me. She was right. I was a low “C” student. I was not dumb; I just did not apply myself when it came to my school work. “I can help tutor you in English and even math,” she added. “You need to learn calculus and sadly we don’t teach it here. Mr. Keena is a brilliant mathematician but he is not a very good teacher. History – you don’t need help in. You have what, a 3.9 in your history class?”
“Yes, I know more than Mrs. Drew does,” I said proudly, “I could teach her class.” That was true. I loved history and did not limit my knowledge of history to school books.
Mrs. Jennings giggled, “Hush, Mrs. Drew is a very nice person and a very good friend of mine.”
“Well I could use a tutor, but like I said my mom can’t afford it.”
“I would not charge you. We could meet twice a week.”
“That would be great, thank you.” I really was grateful and honestly the thought of the slim to none chance I would have in fucking Mrs. Jennings did not cross my mind.
I had three scholarship offers to Division Two schools and two of them I had the grades to get in, provided I scored the required SAT score, but the third was the one I really wanted to go to. The Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina academic requirements and SAT score requirements were higher.
As we started to finish unpacking her boxes and getting the classroom ready for the new school year I thought I caught her looking at me in a way a teacher should not be looking at her student. Maybe it was just my imagination or wishful thinking. I was used to girls looking at me that way and even women, but not Mrs. Jennings. She was married, religious, ethical, and a woman of high moral standards so there was no possible chance she would be checking me out in a manner I imagined.
My cock was also erect. It was hard because I was alone with her, seeing her in her shorts and checking out her butt, and the smell in the small trailer; a mixture of my sweat and body odor mixed with her clean soapy scent, aroused me. Also, I was a seventeen-year-old boy after all and my cock got hard all the time. It was rather obvious I had an erection due to the tightness of the shorts and the size of my cock. I did nothing to hide it. Actually the opposite, I would position my body so Mrs. Jennings could see it; I told you I was a cocky and arrogant kid. Twice, without a doubt, I did see her looking at it and me and she would blush and turn her head.
I was putting sheet music on a shelf and turned around and saw Mrs. Jennings standing on a chair and stretching her arms over her head as she hung up a banner on the wall. I took a moment to look at the view I had of her body. Then I walked over to her and held the chair steady.
“Mrs. Jennings, you should let me hang those. You are going to fall.” The chair did wobble once.
“I am fine and it’s done anyway but could you help me down, please.” She held out her hand.
I took her hand and helped her down. When she put her feet on the floor she was standing very close to me and I put my arms around her waist. My six-foot-two-inch body towered over her.
“Umm…Patrick…what…what are you doing?” My teacher asked me in a low voice. She did not try and move away or push me away and I did not let go.
“I thought you were going to fall,” I told her as I looked down into her seductive black eyes.
Mrs. Jennings put her hands on my bare stomach and I thought she was going to push me away but she didn’t, at least not at first. She did not mean to touch my naked abdomen but I was wearing my half-shirt so it was an accident when she did. I was shocked when I felt her hands run over my well-defined abs and she inhaled deeply, made this squeaky whimper sound I found sexy, and I saw her close her eyes.
Encouraged by this I leaned my head down and kissed her. I figured I really didn’t have anything to lose by kissing her. The worse thing that would happen to me was she would tell her husband and I would get expelled and have to go to public school. That would not have been bad at all since all my friends went to public school anyway. True I would have to deal with my mother’s wrath but she would get over it.
I was pleasantly surprised when Mrs. Jennings parted her full lips and kissed me back. I moved my hands and grabbed her large butt cheeks and pulled her closer. Her ass was tight and I did not expect that. I thought for her age it would not be as firm as it was. I felt her hand run under my half-shirt and she started running her fingers through my chest hairs and over my chest muscles and our tongues touched as they entered each other’s mouths. Mrs. Jennings was making these whimpering moans I thought were sexy as her hands ran over my chest and then down to my abs again.
She really seemed to enjoy feeling my muscles. When one of her hands ran down to my stomach I grabbed it and pushed it down lower and she did not resist as she let me guide it to my crotch and down to my erect penis. I gave a moan as I felt her hand gently grasp my erection and she started to run her hand up and down the shaft through my shorts. I brought my hand up to her face and caressed her cheek and started kissing her neck and the older woman gasped when I started kissing and running my tongue over her ear.
“God, I want to fuck you so bad,” I whispered in her ear and started to unbutton her blouse.
Mrs. Jennings suddenly let go of my cock and pushed me away from her and then took several steps back. Maybe it was what I said or that I was trying to open her blouse or something else, but whatever it was Mrs. Jennings stopped what we were doing. She was breathing hard as she looked at me; her face was flushed.
“We, I can’t do this. We are not going to do this,” she said after she caught her breath.
“But you want to and I want to. I know you want to.” I took a step toward her and she took two steps back.
“This is so wrong in so many ways, Patrick. It’s a sin against God, you are so young, and I am married. I won’t tell anyone what I did and I am sorry for it. I should not have done that; we should not have done that.” Mrs. Jennings buttoned up the two buttons on her blouse I managed to unbutton before she stopped me.
“But you wanted to do it,” I said again. “You liked kissing me and touching me and rubbing my cock.”
“Don’t use such filthy language, Patrick,” Mrs. Jennings chastised me, and then she started talking about God and temptation and overcoming temptation; things I was not really listening to because I just wanted to fuck her and my mind was on how she kissed me and touched me. “You should leave now, Patrick. I promise I won’t tell anyone what we did but I will pray on it and I think we both need to ask God for forgiveness,” she said after she finished her lecture.
“You really want me to leave?”
“Yes, that would be for the best.”
I may have been arrogant and sometimes an asshole but I knew when no meant no. My mother taught me that and how to be a gentleman toward women. I left and went home. When I got home I did masturbate thinking of Mrs. Jennings.
The next weeks passed and the only time I saw Mrs. Jennings was in my masturbation fantasies until school started. When I got my class schedule I noticed I was in Ms. Pyles’s English class and not Mrs. Jennings. Ms. Pyles was an awful teacher. She was strict and a bitter single woman in her fifties. It was not her strictness that made her a poor teacher but that she did not care about her students at all nor was she helpful when they asked questions or asked her for help.
I saw Mrs. Jennings a few times in the hall or when I would pass her classroom and she would glance at me and blush but never said a word to me. It was not until I got my first grade on a test in Ms. Pyle’s class that I talked to Mrs. Jennings; I got an F and was told by my coach if I did not pull up my grade in English there was a chance I would be suspended from the team until it improved. I needed help and Ms. Pyles refused to help me so I went to Mrs. Jennings one afternoon after school and before practice. I found her in her classroom alone grading papers.
“How come I was put in Ms. Pyles’s class?” I asked as soon as I walked into the classroom.
Mrs. Jennings looked up and started to smile and then blushed and looked at the paper in front of her. “Ms. Pyles is a fine teacher.”
“Bullshit, she sucks and you know it. She gave me an F on a test and won’t help me and I could be kicked off the team and have no chance for that scholarship. And, and I can’t stand looking at her chin hairs all class time.”
“Watch your language, Patrick. You know better than to use words like that and to talk about Ms. Pyle like that,” Mrs. Jennings told me but I could tell there was a slight tone of amusement in her voice.
“Mrs. Jennings, please let me back in your class. I will fail in Ms. Pyle’s class.” I was ready to beg. The scholarship was my only chance to go to college and I really wanted to go to college. “If it’s because of what happened I promise I forgot about it and yes it was a mistake and I would never do anything like that again,” I lied because I had not forgotten how her lips tasted and how she touched me.
Mrs. Jennings looked up at me and sighed, “I would be lying if I said that was not the reason I asked you to be placed in Barbara’s class. I just could not have you in my class.”
“I promise I won’t do anything or try and kiss you again.”
“Patrick, please keep your voice down.” The teacher put down her pen and folded her hands on her desk. “It’s not that. I know you would not do that. It’s just that…I…I just can’t…I just can’t see you every day and…please don’t make me explain and accept it.” She sounded flustered.
“Can you tutor me like you said you would,” I asked.
Mrs. Jennings looked at me and then at her hands and then back at me, “OK because I know you have the capability of being a much better student. I can tutor you two times a week but we won’t be alone. You can’t come to my house because, to be Frank, Richard does not like you. I will come to your house so your mother will be there.” She reached down and grabbed her purse and took out her day planner, “Let’s see how are Tuesdays and Thursdays? When do you finish practice?”
“I get home about six and take a shower so maybe like seven?”
“That will work for me. We can start next week and I will come to your house at seven and tutor you two hours a night.”
“Yes, Ma’am, that would be great, and thank you, Mrs. Jennings. I really mean that and I appreciate that and I promise I will not try anything and I am so sorry about the last time.”
She blushed but smiled at me, “Patrick, you were not the only one to blame in the matter so I am sorry as well.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” I thanked her again and left to go to practice.
I did not tell Mrs. Jennings that my mother would not be home. My mother had recently got a promotion to supervisor at the twenty-four, seven day a week call center she worked at, and being a new supervisor she got the night shift and worked from four in the afternoon to midnight. I honestly did not tell her my mother would not be home because I thought I could fuck her, but because I was worried if she knew she would not tutor me. Once she saw that I was not going to try anything she would not be so worried about being alone with me.
Yes I wanted to fuck her badly but I had my chance and she said no and I realized she was not the type of woman who would just have random sex with a student. She was married and a devout Christian and she would never do anything like that. Mrs. Jennings was not like the trashy girls I had sex with and she sure was not like Diane; Mrs. Jennings was a proper lady.
Tuesday came and I got home after practice, which ended about an hour early because the previous Friday Night we had crushed the team we played sixty-two to three. Our coach was not one to run up the score but it could not be helped. He even played the second string in the fourth quarter and they even scored two touchdowns. He was pleased with our performance so he gave us an easy day Tuesday because we had a bye week that week and no game scheduled for the following Friday. When I got home a little after five I found Selina sitting on the steps leading to my apartment.
As I mentioned Selina was rather promiscuous but she was also very pretty and besides the way she dressed in skimpy clothes or skin-tight jeans, you would not think she was such a slut. She wore very little makeup, which she did not need, and had a nice girl next door look at her. That late afternoon she was wearing very short jean cut-off shorts and a tight tee-shirt with an AC/DC logo on it and you could tell she was not wearing a bra. She smiled when she saw me but I could tell she had been crying. I invited her in because I generally liked her as a friend and occasional fuck buddy.
Selina sat down on the couch and I sat next to her and she cried as she told me that her current boyfriend broke up with her because he found out she was fucking another boy on the side. Selina could be an odd girl. To her, fucking around on her boyfriend was not wrong. She seemed to embrace her promiscuousness. I was holding her as she told me about her boyfriend and then she started kissing me and I kissed her back and she told me she wanted to suck my cock and then go to my bedroom so I could fuck her. I agreed and by then had forgotten about my tutoring session.
Selina was on her knees in front of me; her tee-shirt was lying on the floor next to her and had my cock in her mouth for about two minutes when there was a knock on the door which reminded me that Mrs. Jennings was coming over to tutor me. I pushed the girl’s head off of me, pulled my underwear and shorts back up, and told Selina she had to leave. She was not happy about it.
I got up and opened the door as Selina put her tee-shirt back on and stood up. Mrs. Jennings stood in the doorway holding a soft leather case and she was wearing a conservative green and gold plaid skirt that came down past her knees and a dark green blouse. She was wearing her normal flesh color pantyhose that she always wore. The only time I noticed she was not wearing pantyhose was that day I helped her in the trailer when she had on a pair of shorts. After seeing her in the shorts and her legs exposed I did not see the reason why she wore pantyhose. She had nice legs. Maybe it was a moral thing or something. The outfit she currently had on was the same one she wore at school that day. I invited her in as Selina walked by her and out the door. Mrs. Jennings gave the younger girl a very disapproving look.
“Is that your girlfriend?” The teacher asked me after I closed the door behind Selina. The tone in her voice was odd I thought. She sounded like she did not approve.
I chuckled as I led her to the dining table where we would do our work. “Selina? Oh God no, she is just a friend.”
Mrs. Jennings set the leather case on the table and started taking out the books and worksheets. “Is that the type of girl you like? Girls who dress like that and not nice girls at all. The…the Jezebel type.”
I could not help but laugh, “Jezebel? That’s funny.” I swear if I did not know better I would have thought she sounded jealous. I dismissed the thought. “Selina is actually a kind girl. I have known her for years and she is sweet.”
“Well, she is not the type of girl you should be with. You should be with a nice girl who goes to church and doesn’t dress that way. Does your mother approve of her? Where is your mother anyway?”
“But nice girls are not as fun,” I teased, and by the look on Mrs. Jennings’s face she did not find any humor in my teasing. “Sorry. My mom is at work. I know I should have told you, Mrs. Jennings, but she works evenings and won’t be home until after midnight.”
The older woman did not say anything for a moment and I saw her eyes move to look up and down my body, and when her eyes got to my crotch she blushed and cleared her throat. I was still wearing my shorts and half tee-shirt, the same ones I had on that day in the trailer and my cock was still hard from Selina sucking it. Mrs. Jennings looked away quickly.
“I, I wish you would have told me.” Her voice sounded huskier than her normal sweet feminine voice and she cleared her throat again. “It’s, it’s too late to matter now since I am already here but…but I think you should change your clothes into something more appropriate before we start.”
“Yes, ma’am, and I am sorry I did not tell you. I was afraid you would not come over and tutor me and I really need help. It was not because of, well, there was no other reason why I promise.”
“I believe you, Patrick. Now please go change.”
I nodded and went into my bedroom to change. I closed my bedroom door a little so it was just cracked. I took a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt out of my drawer and took off my clothes. I smelled musky and sweaty and decided I had better put on some deodorant as well. I was standing in my room in just my underwear, blue briefs, when I heard my bedroom door creak as it was opened and turned and saw Mrs. Jennings standing in the doorway looking at me.
“Did you have sex with that, that harlot?” She asked.
I swallowed hard, “No, but I was going to.” I told her honestly.
“I am glad you didn’t. You won’t have to take a shower to wash the scent of that whore off of you,” she smiled at me.
She walked into my room and shocked me when she put her arms around my neck and started kissing my chest. I put my arms around her waist and pulled her closer to me. She looked up at me and smiled.
“Kiss me again. Kiss me like you did that day in the music room.” Her voice was almost pleading.
“I…should I take a shower anyway? I smell.”
Mrs. Jennings shook her head and ran her hands up and down the front of my body as she talked, “No. I like it. I liked it that afternoon when you helped me. I liked how you smelled. I…the reason I did not want you in my class is that you are all I have thought about since that day. I can’t get you out of my mind since then. I can’t stop thinking about how your body felt, how you kissed me, how your body smelled, and, God forgive me, how bad I wanted you that day. That’s why I wished your mother would have been home. To stop me from doing this because I knew if I was alone with you I would do this. Now please, Patrick, please kiss me before I change my mind.”
To be continued…
