MILF Teacher: Becoming a Present - Sex Stories

MILF Teacher: Becoming a Present

... pantyhose, a red blouse that couldn't even begin to contain her large breasts and a black leather jacket. She took off her jacket and tossed it on my white couch. I closed my door, surprised at what she considered formal. She seemed more dressed for a dominatrix line-up. She looked at me. "Nice, you dressed up for me." Startled by her comment, I replied, "What? No, I am dressed for the dance." She shrugged, "Whatever you say, Ms. Malone." Ignoring her condescending tone and smirk, I got to the task at hand. "So let's see this resume so I can finish the reference letter." She pulled out a resume from her bag and placed it on the table as she walked around my home. She disappeared into the kitchen while I grabbed the form and skimmed it. I noticed she did not have any volunteer hours, which would make the scholarship application rather difficult. She returned to my living room with a beer in her hand. Walking over and taking it out of her hand, I snapped, "What are you doing?" She smiled, "We are both adults, Ms. Malone." "That is not the point," I countered. Attempting to make the distinction crystal clear I pointed out, "I am the teacher and you are my student." She shrugged, her voice changing to something that seemed oddly seductive, "But what if I was the teacher and you the student?" She was standing directly in front of me, her dark eyes boring into mine, as I responded, confused, "What are you talking about?" She smiled, "Oh, never mind. So do you have my reference ...

... letter started?" "Yes," I replied, thankful to be back on topic. "It's on my laptop upstairs." Latoya started for the stairs. "Let's take a look at what you got started." Again her forwardness was annoying, but the quicker we finished this the better, so I followed her upstairs and into my room. I grabbed my laptop, typed in my password and handed my laptop to her. She quickly read my rather generic reference letter and began adding stuff. I interjected, "Latoya, I won't sign anything I don't agree with." She smiled, her tone oddly foreboding, "Oh don't worry, you will definitely agree with it when, I am done with you." Her odd answer was unsettling. She exuded a smug superiority I just couldn’t figure out. I attempted to take a peek at what she was writing, but she dismissed me. "Wait until I am done, Ms. Malone." She then added, treating me like a maid in my own house, "If I can't have a beer, go get me a coke." My rage inside was beginning to bubble over and I had to use every ounce of tolerance I had to not explode. Instead, I gritted my teeth and went downstairs to get her a drink. While downstairs, I took a couple of minutes to calm myself down and put in perspective what I was doing. I repeated the mantra ‘I am helping a student’ over and over again. By the time I returned upstairs, Latoya had moved to my bed and was laying on it with my laptop on her lap. My frustration immediately began to rise again. She looked up and asked in a condescending tone, "What took you so ...