After School with Mr. Smith: Part I - Sex Stories

After School with Mr. Smith: Part I

Taylor, I need to see you after class. She looked back and stared at Mr. Smith blankly for a moment before nodding. What for? Did she do something wrong? Taylor turned around, leaving the door frame and feeling her ears turn red. For the past year, Taylor had developed a series of fantasies that focused on a man twice her age, at the very least. Mr. Smith was perhaps 5'9”, in his late 30s with next to no hair. She couldn't tell if he was balding or if he regularly shaved his head. Regardless, he exuded a subtle charm that had caught her attention within the first few days of being in his class. The bell rang and her breath hitched. He wanted to see her after class. No, he had said he needed to see her after class. But for what? She swallowed and her finger twitched as she made her way to Mr. Smith’s desk, which was unsurprisingly messy, strewn with papers, pencils, and sticky notes. Taylor regulated her breathing, counting silently in her head. 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2. “Hello, Taylor.” Taylor managed a smile up at him. “Hello, Mr. Smith. What's this about?” Her breathing began to grow irregular. It took all her control to keep herself together. This was the first time she had spoken to him one on one. It was like walking into some sort of dream – or a pleasurable nightmare. “It's about your performance in class. You don't have anywhere else to be now, do you?” The school day was over now and she usually walked home, so she didn't have a bus to catch and no one was waiting for ...

... her. She shook her head. “No, no I don't, Mr. Smith.” He nodded, obviously pleased. Have a seat. He sat and indicated the chair behind her. She pulled up the chair, her hands subtly shaking. Let's get this over with. “Do you have any idea why you're here?” He asked. Taylor, slightly confused, shook her head. “No, Mr. Smith, I-” He suddenly got up from his chair and began making his way slowly around the desk, not looking at her directly. Taylor's breath hitched. “I don't know.” “You are my best student. Of course you know that and yet, I don't understand one thing.” He was now behind her, so she couldn't see him. A low pressure began building in her abdomen. She shifted her legs uncomfortably and cleared her throat. She ignored the warm feeling accumulating between her legs. “Why do you always avoid me?” Taylor gasped involuntarily when she felt his hands settle themselves on her shoulders. What was he doing? This was like a dream she had once had. In the dream, they had been in this very classroom, alone. He had been standing in front of her, though, and he had made some lecherous confessions to her. She had then woken up, unsatisfied. “You never raise your hand and it seems like you absolutely hate eye contact.” She felt his fingers flex over her shoulders, moving an inch down her arm. “I want to know why.” There was no hiding the heaving of her chest or the incessant squirming of her legs. She squeezed her thighs tightly against each other, trying to suppress the burning. But ...