The Teacher Next Door

[Jaguar00]

It was an unusual situation and something I was unprepared for. My
neighbors next door, whom I was friendly with but did not know very well,
asked if I would tutor their son because he was doing poorly in his English
classes. The boy, thirteen years old, was not one of my students at school.
His sister, however, was a senior in high school and was a student in my
Advanced Composition class.

Often in the past, students has asked if I would tutor them. Not their
parents. I smiled inwardly at the thought, because students who asked me to
tutor them were primarily my male students and I was used to dealing with
their "crushes." Not that I discouraged their affection exactly. I was
aware of it, and truthfully, I used it as a means to get higher performance
from them in their schoolwork. Of course, I never let their adolescent
fantasies go anywhere. If truth be told, I admitted to myself, I actually
did things in class that encouraged all the boys to develop an interest in
me.

A lot of it had to do with my looks. As a teenager and into my early
twenties, I had been a model. For a short time after that, an actress,
actually having appeared in a police drama for four years. Not as the main
character, but as one of the supporting cast. Some episodes did concentrate
more on my character, but that was rare. I made a decision that acting was
not a life for me, but I had saved quite a bit of money, so I went to
college at the age of 27 and over the next few years earned a degree and a
teaching certificate.

I still had the looks, bearing and face of a model, even though I was now
forty-one and had one child. Of course, I would not have been able to work
at it anymore, but I was proud of the way I had taken care of myself over
the years. My hair was jet black and my eyes almost as dark. I was five
feet nine inches tall, slender and lean, with taut muscles moving smoothly
beneath soft supple skin. My facial features were sharp and angular with
extremely prominent cheekbones which I admitted I accentuated even further
with what might have been a touch too much rouge. My lips were wide and
full and I had two rows of perfect teeth. The only real criticism I ever
had when I looked in the mirror was that I felt my mouth was a little too
wide.

And if I did act a little flirtatious in the classroom, or dressed a bit
more sharply and sexily than the other teachers, well, my students tended to
get better than average grades.

For some reason, I did agree to tutor young Mark. His parents offered a lot
of money. Not that I needed it, but it was an enticement. Having invested
during my higher income years, I was quite comfortable with a fair amount of
savings and a very nice house in a very nice neighborhood. Now I had become
the tutor of the boy next door.

It was no inconvenience, as he just came to my house in the evenings twice a
week, after I returned home from teaching. My daughter was spending a few
weeks at my ex-husband's place, which was only across town. Being sixteen,
she had decided that she wanted to experiment living with Dad for awhile,
and he and I being on friendly terms, we agreed, but only for a trial period

Of course, there were many other things going on all around me, and I had no
idea. At least, not then.

This is the story of my downfall.

After a couple of weeks it seemed natural to have Mark around the house,
even though he began dropping in at times that were unscheduled for
tutoring. I could recognize the familiar signs of infatuation beginning,
but I did nothing to encourage of discourage it. Since he was not one of my
students from the school, I did not really worry about it as much as I would
have with students from my own classes. Besides, I was used to that kind of
behavior from adolescent youths, although they weren't usually so young.
And I dressed a bit more casually at home than I did at the school.

Mark would start coming by whenever no one was home at his house. This
began to include weekends when I usually wanted privacy or I was out in the
back yard by the pool soaking up some sun in a bikini. It did not seem
appropriate for him to be seeing my in my bikini, but since he lived just
next door, I assumed he had seen me like this before. How my students would
have liked to seen that! Anyway, Mark was lonely, it seemed, and I could
not bear to kick him out, so I let him stay. Even with my eyes closed, I
could sometime feel his eyes feasting on me. Sometimes I would sneak a peek
from beneath my sunglasses just to be sure. I guess it was kind of cruel
for me to untie my bikini top when I turned over to get some sun on my back.

Mark was not a shy young man, by any means. He would often make comments
about my looks, and he did not act shy about looking at me. In fact, he was
quite bold. It would make me smile sometimes, and I admit that I would
sometimes have secret fantasies about things that could happen. Of course,
I did that with my students, as well.

Sometimes we would just have our tutoring sessions outside. Since these
were usually "extra" ones, or unscheduled, I really just let him do the work
while I bathed in the sun. Since his parents were absent so often, it did
not even occur to me to wonder whether they would mind. I just got used to
it over time, I guess.

He began to ask if he could spread the tanning oil on me, as if he was doing
me a favor. That triggered another secret smile and I always turned him
down, of course. However, he was persistent and kept asking, so finally I
seemed to break down and said he could, but only if he got an A on his next
class assignment. At his level of expertise in the subject, this should
have been quite impossible. How he managed it, I don't know, but he did.
Later, I realized he must have had help. I tried to go back on my word, but
he was adamant about the fact that I had promised, so I relented. I was
nervous, though, and asked if his parents were home, because that was the
only house that could see into my back yard. I was crossing a line and I
knew it, so I wanted to be sure we would keep this secret. I was allowing a
thirteen year old boy to spread oil over my body, and it almost seemed like
I was agreeing to let him feel me up.

So I handed him the bottle of tanning oil and I laid down on my stomach.

He started on my back. The oil was warm from sitting in the sun, and it
simply felt wonderful. I think part of why it felt so good was that it was
so wrong. Time stopped. I don't know how long he rubbed oil on my back,
and legs, I just know that the closer and closer he came to my bikini
bottom, the more I anticipated his hands and wanted it to continue and
continue. I didn't even realize until he asked me to roll over that he had
untied the string to my top. Keeping my eyes closed, I felt his oil slicked
hand exploring my body, then slide over my bare breasts.

And I did not stop him.

I was barely aware of anything at all, just laying there in the sun, eyes
closed, feeling hands all over my body. Feeling the trembling desire in my
pussy, sometimes biting my lip not to gasp when I felt his fingers come
close to where I really wanted him to touch me. I found myself parting my
legs a little so he would know what I wanted, and where I wanted him to
touch me. It was wrong, but I was not really thinking about right and
wrong. The feeling-the desire-had sneaked up on me. He pushed my thighs a
little further apart. It seemed like he was purposely teasing me, touching
the tender insides of my thighs, getting close, then moving away. Finally,
he touched me. There. My pussy. My mouth was wide open by now and I am
sure I must have been pushing myself toward him. He took this as
encouragement to reach inside the waist band and begin to pull my bottoms
down. I lifted my hips to make it easier, not even thinking about the fact
that we were outside.

A thirteen year old boy was playing with my pussy and I was spreading my
legs for him. Both of us completely silent the entire time except for when
an involuntary gasp would escape my lips.

I couldn't help it. I opened my mouth and said in a whispering but urgent
voice, "Fuck me."

And he did.

It did not last long before I felt his wetness shoot into me, and I wasn't
done, so I laid there and masturbated while he watched. After I came, and
was silent a moment, catching my breath, I realized what I had done. I sat
up and said, "We shouldn't have done that." Holding my arm across my
breasts, I said, "You should go home now." Then I added, "Don't tell
anyone."

Instead of leaving, he moved closer. His pants were pulled up, but his
zipper was undone and his cock was hanging out only inches from my face.
"I won't tell anyone, " he said, "if you put it in your mouth and suck it."

I looked up at him, astonished at his nerve, but there was an unexpected
firm look on his face. So I opened my mouth and took him inside. He grew
hard readily enough, evidently recovering while I had been frantically
seeking my own orgasm. Sucking always gets me excited and he wasn't coming
as fast this time. I was having to work at it. My hand slipped into my lap
and I began fingering myself as I sucked him. Just as I was coming, moans
escaping my lips, his cock erupted into my mouth. I was unprepared and some
of it escaped my lips with the groan of my orgasm and dribbled down my chin.
He pulled his wet cock from my mouth and sort of hugged my face tight
against him. His hardness pressed into my face. As it softened, he
withdrew, taking the tip of his cock and rubbing it into the stream on my
chin. Then he rubbed it all over my face.

He zipped up his pants after awhile, saying, "I'll sneak back over after
dark, once my parents have gone to bed."

Before I had a chance to protest, he was gone.

I did not know about the video camera until later.

[Jaguar00]

Mark tried to stay calm as he walked home. Once he got to his own room,

however, he pumped his fist into the air in a burst of momentary elation and
victory. It had never even occurred to him it would be that easy. The plan
had never anticipated a voluntary seduction at all. When that possibility
even occurred to him he had automatically dismissed it. Not in the
beginning, but later when he had thought about it more and had set the plan
in motion. His vision of future events had assumed blackmail or the threat
of potential blackmail. His hope had been to maneuver Nancy Costain, the
teacher next door, into a situation that, if not compromising, at least gave
the appearance of being so. And he had only hoped he would be able to
somehow capture it on camera or videotape. Failing an actual compromising
situation, his alternate plan had been to lie. Quite simply, he would make
up a story and threaten to tell it to his parents and the authorities. Not
only would Ms. Costain come under investigation and probably lose her job,
but she would be smeared in all of the newspapers and on television. Her
past celebrity as a model and actress would guarantee that. Would she
submit? He thought so.

It would have been a bigger story, he thought, than the teacher who went to
jail twice for fucking her sixth grade student. That, and another story
about a female bus driver had been the initial inspiration for his interest
and desire in the dark-haired woman next door. It was something else
entirely that had modified his plan so drastically, crystallizing it into
the total domination of a sexy older woman, instead of being just an
infatuation and sexual desire of a young boy for the lady next door.

As part of a younger brother's obligation to spy on an older sister, he had
sneaked into her room and turned on her computer, hoping to find a diary or
something personal to use in exchange for future "favors." He was
astonished to discover that she did not even use a password, and partly
because of that he did not expect to find anything important or personal.
What he did find, however, was a downloaded story from the internet called,
"Owned Teacher," by someone called Thumb. It made him wonder a little about
his sister, but more importantly, it changed what he wanted to do with the
teacher next door.

His plans became incredibly insidious. Even evil.

As he continued to sneak onto his sister's computer he followed the
developments of the story and it inspired his own imagination.

The key to his own plan now was the videotape. He took the tape from the
video camera which he had set up on a tripod looking down from his bedroom
window on the second floor. He looked through the viewfinder and was
encouraged to see that it was still focused in close-up on the chaise lounge
where he had enjoyed himself with Ms. Costain. Often he had watched her
from that very window. Mostly back when his fantasies were more innocent.

He grinned. His intentions certainly weren't innocent now.

He reveled in his success, remembering how easy it had been.

His favorite moment had not been fucking the long-limbed former model. He
remembered how she had tried to send him away afterward, sitting on the edge
of the chaise lounge. He remembered how when had tried to send him away
afterward, sitting up, trying to cover he nakedness with her arms, looking
down at the ground as if she was ashamed.

He smiled as he remembered how easy he had told her.

"Put it in your mouth and suck it," he had said, "and I won't tell."

And she had done it!

No arguing, only a moment of hesitation, and like a slut, she had done what
he said. That was the moment he had begun to think of her a a slut. His
plan had always been to turn her into one, but he reasoned that if she was
so easy, she must be one already. His opinion of her, which had once been
one of admiration, had decreased substantially. It was just that he had
imagined a little more effort would be necessary to initiate the first
stages of his plan. Consequently, his ideas for using her became
moreÉ.detailed and intricate.

Puffed up with feeling of success and power, he took the videotape
downstairs to view it before his parents came home. Viewing the tape only
served to intensify his confidence. She liked it, he thought to himself.
She got off on it! Not only being fucked by a thirteen year old boy, but
she got off on blowing him, too. This is just going to be too easy, the
thought.

As he copied the tape, he remembered conversations he had overheard and even
taken part of at school. A girl named Reba with big breasts and tight
clothes and how the guys laughed when they talked about her. One guy called
her a slut, so another called her a whore, and one even called her a "pig."
He wondered what they would say about Ms. Costain if they knew what she had
done, and the things he knew he could get her to do in the future. Maybe
someday, I'll find out, he chuckled.

He had only told one person about his plan, can he considered telling of its
initial success. Instead, he decided to wait and enjoy it for himself for
now. There was time to tell someone later.

Then he made a copy of the tape. Just in time, too. Just as the tape
machine clicked off, the heard the garage door opening as his parents and
sister arrived home.

[Jaguar00]

After Mark left, I went inside and took a long hot shower, trying to wash
away the experience and the shame. Fucking a young boy like that! And
sucking him! After I had spent years making sure to do no such thing with
anyone underage, in spite of the fantasies I had sometimes had about certain
students. I had never even come close to succumbing to those fantasies.

I opened a bottle of wine and curled up on the sofa, wearing only a silk
robe, trying to escape thinking about it. I tried reading, but could not
concentrate. Stray thoughts kept filtering in. I turned on the television.
Paying attention was impossible. My mind kept replaying the events of the
afternoon.

Without realizing it, a finger had strayed to play with my pussy.

What must he think of me, I wondered. And would he tell anyone?

What I had done was so obviously wrong, and IÕm certain he realized it, too.
Yet there were countless stories in film and print of younger boys Òmaking
it' with older women. I wracked my brain, but could not think of any story
where the boy had been quite so young, however. I was quite worried about
it. In the news not long ago there had been an incident about a teacher who
had been to bed many times with her sixth grade student, and she had ended
up going to jail over it.

I had to make it stop, and make it stop now. At the same time, I had to
convince him to keep quiet about it. I was positive I would be successful.
After all, he was just a boy.

Maybe if we did it one more time? What could that hurt now, I thought,
since we had done it once? And he had said he was coming back this evening.

Quickly, I discarded those thoughts. Nothing good could come of it. At
least, something very bad could result. I began concentrating on the
possible negatives to firm up my resolve.

Plus, I had been mostly "good" for awhile. Regardless of things I had done
in the past.

I remembered how silent we had both been though the whole thing. The only
words I really remembered was when he had stood in front of me and said,
"Suck it."

It did not seem like the behavior and attitude of a typical thirteen year
old boy. He had said those words like he knew I would do it. Like it was
an order. My fantasies began again, but I quickly quashed them. This had
to stop and stop now. I was determined.

The decision having been made, I was finally able to relax.

I drifted off to sleep on the couch.

[Jaguar00]

Awakening from my sleep, I heard the slight scrape of the sliding glass
door, so I sat up and pulled my robe together. It was Mark, of course.
When he came into the room, I turned on a lamp next to the sofa and said,
"You and I need to have a talk."

"Okay," he replied. "What do you want to talk about?"

"This," I said. "You being here now. What happened this afternoon. It can't

happen anymore. It shouldn't have happened today." I felt myself
tremble as a spoke. I was nervous. I pulled the robe even tighter and
covered my long legs. I felt him staring.

He walked directly in front of me, then got down on his knees, placing one
hand on each of my knees. "Okay" he said, "we'll talk. Then he added,
"But you seemed to like it."

"That is not the point and it is not important," I insisted. "I'm an adult
and you are only thirteen."

Looking directly into my eyes from his position on the floor, he said
quietly but forcefully, "And its possible that you could get in a lot of
trouble." Immediately he began to push my knees apart, spreading my legs
very wide, as if this veiled threat suddenly gave him power. My pussy was
wide open and completely visible to him. I tried to close my legs, but he
held them apart with surprising strength. So I remained sitting like
that, wide open. I moved a hand down to cover myself where my robe had
parted. He slapped it away with the back of his hand.

"This has to stop!" I insisted.

"What if I don't want it to?" he asked. Then he pulled my robe the rest of
the way open, baring my breasts.

"Then I have to be the one to stop it! Right now," I insisted, even while
the ridiculousness of my position occurred to me, sitting with legs spread
and breasts revealed to his view. This wasn't going the way I had planned.

"You can't stop it," was all he said. He looked at me as if waiting for me
to say something, but I could not think of anything to say for a moment.
Slowly he reached up to my nipple and pinched it. It didn't hurt. It felt
good. But I was attempting to control my reactions.

"Now you do it, " he commanded, meaning I should pinch my own nipple.

I hesitated.

"Do it!" he said again.

Almost of its own volition, my arm moved up and I pinched my nipple.

"Both at the same time," he ordered next.

So I began to pinch and play with my nipples, sitting on the couch in front
of a thirteen year old boy. I found I could not help myself. I closed my
eyes and my mouth fell open, my breath coming in gasps. I sensed him move
to a standing position, then felt his hand on the back of my head, pulling
me forward. He began rubbing the head of his dick all over my face, and I
felt a little bit of moisture oozing from the head of his cock as he first
touched my cheek, then spread it around. I was still playing with my
nipples and I could hear involuntary noises escape my lips. My pussy was
soaked. Already. I opened my mouth wider so he could put his cock inside.
I wanted him in my mouth.

How quickly I had given in.

Again.

Instead he just rubbed the tip of his cock around my lips. When I tried to
lick it or fit my lips around it, he pulled it away. Then he stepped back a
little, which caused me to open my eyes. By then, I had one hand in my lap
rubbing my clit. I couldn't remember when I had moved the hand from my
breast to my pussy.

His cock was standing straight out, the head only inches from my face. He
held it in his right hand, grinning.

"Suck it," he commanded.

I've been trying to, I thought to myself, not even realizing I was back in
the exact same position I had been earlier. Only this time, instead of
looking serious, he had an evil smile on his face. A smile full of
confidence.

So I leaned forward to put his cock in my mouth, wondering why he did not
understand that I had been trying to do that already. Just before my mouth
reached it, he moved it aside with his hand.

"Try again," he said, just a tinge of humor reflected in his voice.

Once again, he moved his cock aside as my mouth approached.

"Keep trying," he said.

Over and over again, the scene was repeated, with my mouth following his
cock around, realizing he was playing with me the way I'd seen people
sometimes teasing a dog. It was humiliating, yet I could not stop.

Finally, he stopped me.

"I guess since you said I shouldn't be here and we shouldn't be doing this,
you'll have to do without." After a brief pause, he added, "Unless you say
"please."

I looked up at him, not believing he was making me do this. I waited,
expecting him to change his mind. Finally, after an eternity of a few
seconds, still looking into his eyes, I heard myself quietly say the word.
"Please?" It didn't occur to me that I could have made this stop right
then.

"Please what?" he prompted.

"Please," I said again. "Please, may I .suck your dick?"

I couldn't believe the words were coming out of my mouth. I was begging a
thirteen year old boy to let me suck him off. The thing of it was'I meant
it, and begging for it was turning me on. Having him make me beg for it was
turning me on. It reminded me of something that happened years ago, in my
mid-twenties when a black man made me beg for the same thing. Sometimes he
would let me and sometimes he would not. Now the same scene was playing
itself out.

Then Mark's voice jerked me back to the present.

"You probably want to be fucked, too, don't you?"

This time I did not look at him. I just whispered, "Yes."

In a sort of teasing voice, he said, "I'll let you suck my cock-if..." then he
paused.

I looked up at him then, waiting for him to continue.

"If," he continued, "you admit you're an easy fuck."

My eyes narrowed as I felt anger begin to burn through the lust.

"Think about it," he continued when he saw the look on my face, "This
afternoon all I did was rub tanning oil on your back, and the next thing I
know, you're asking me to fuck you. Then tonight it wasn't more than a few
minutes after you told me we shouldn't be doing this and you're trying to
get my dick in your mouth!"

He started rubbing his cock on my face again.

"On top of that," he said, lowering his voice, "I'm only thirteen."

The veiled threat was obvious. I felt I had no choice, so I relented.

"I'm-an-easy-fuck," I said.

"Say it again," he laughed in victory.

"I'm an easy fuck," I repeated.

"Again," he ordered.

"I'm an easy fuck," I repeated over and over at his insistence. Somehow
saying it was releasing something inside me. At times in my life it had
certainly been true. And it had certainly been true today. I felt myself
getting wet again. All the momentary anger was gone.

"What's another word for "easy fuck"? he asked.

I though for a moment before I answered. "Pushover," I replied.

He laughed out loud. "Look at you, he said. "Legs spread wide, rubbing
your cunt, playing with your tits, trying to get my cock in your mouth! You
can think of something better!"

I knew what he was looking for.

"Slut," I said.

He just stood there, waiting.

"I'm a slut," I said finally, knowing that is what he expected to hear. It
made me feel nasty to say it, like it had made me feel nasty saying I was an
"easy fuck." And I knew I was being easy, but I didn't care anymore. Not
that I felt I had much choice either. I guess that just made it easier to
give in. The thoughts of defying him had faded, and I'm not sure it was
mostly because his threats to expose me. It would be his word against mine,
and I could probably have created enough doubt to not get in serious
trouble. However, it would probably be quite public, and my reputation as a
teacher would carry a taint from that day forward. It could become very
embarrassing. At that point, I guess I assumed I would be able to figure a
way out of it later. Right then, I was not really worrying about it. I was
wet, and puffy, and incredibly excited, even though I did not wish to be.

"Say it again," said Mark.

I responded. "I'm a slut."

"Has anyone ever called you a slut before?" he asked.

I hesitate briefly before answering. "Yes," I admitted.

"So kiss my cock, slut," he ordered.

And I began kissing his cock.

Kissing a thirteen year old cock.

For a boy who called me a "slut" and an "easy fuck."

I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to kiss his cock and I did. When he told
me to "kiss it like a slut," it drove me a little further beyond the bend
and I began to slide my lips along the sides of it, up and down, half open,
sliding my tongue along it, too.

"A slut would be naked on her knees," he said.

[Jaguar00]

I pulled the robe the rest of the way off and got down on my knees. He told
me to rub my "tits" on his cock. Next he said, "sluts always suck, don't
they?" So I sucked. He told me to "slurp" on it, and I slurped, making
noisy sucking sounds like a cheap whore. He was about to come and I knew it
and I slurped harder and noisier, then he pulled out and pumped his cock
with his hand and came all over my face while I was trying to get my mouth
closer to his cock again. He told me to leave the come on my face, saying
sluts need come on their face. He could tell I needed to come and he told
me to rub my "cunt" on the arm of the sofa. My beautiful white sofa. I did
it, facing toward him, with his come dripping off my face and drying. While
I was straddling the sofa arm rubbing my cunt against it, drenching it with
my juices, he kept telling me what a slut I was and he popped a videotape
into the machine and turned it on.

It was us together and what we had done that afternoon and it totally looked
like I had seduced him. While I was watching and masturbating, he told me
it was a copy and said it would make a good "show" if he decided to let
someone see it. "Of course," he said, "as long as you're a good slut and do
whatever I want, I won't have to show it to anyone." All this while I'm
masturbating against the couch. He said I had to be his slave, do whatever
he wanted. Any time. Any place. I said I would. I knew now that I really
did not have a choice, even if I wanted to say no. Right then I did not
really care. I just wanted to come. Even though I knew I was making a
spectacle of myself.

And finally, I did.

Sweating, breasts heaving, I allowed myself to slide off the arm of the
couch and collapse on my side upon the soft cushions. My eyes inadvertently
caught the part of the video where I knew he had said, "Suck it."

I was so ashamed. It was a great orgasm. A fantastic orgasm. But I was so
ashamed. I even started to cry. I was also afraid. Afraid of what he
might have me do. Afraid because a thirteen year old boy should not be
acting like he was, and wondering why he came to be like that. Wondering
what could cause a thirteen year old boy to want to treat a woman like a
whore. At the same time a glimmering in the core of my being was secretly
glad that he did. That thought shamed me even more.

"By the way," he began as I lay somberly on the couch. "My dad is rich, and
spoils me. I rigged most of the rooms of your house with miniature video
cameras hooked up to a central recorder. The cameras are triggered by
motion detectors. All easily available at local electronics stores. What
happened tonight got caught on tape. Anything you do will be caught on
low-speed video tape."

I just laid there, numb, not knowing whether to believe him or not.

"So now we have first rule for a slut," he continued. "No clothes on in the
house. Period. Without advance permission. You have to ask for that
permission if you know someone is coming over."
I nodded weakly that I understood.

"So from now on you dress and undress in the garage."

I nodded again.

"Next rule, " he continued. "Sluts don't need panties. Do they?"

"No," I said quietly.

"Tomorrow is Sunday. Gather all the panties in your house tonight and put
them in a pile in the living room by nine oÕclock tomorrow morning for
disposal."

Once again I nodded to indicate I understood.

"Well, you've got a lot to think about," he said, "so I'll be leaving soon.

Then he added, "But before I leave, slut, you can suck me off again."

And he smiled that evil smile.

[Benson Cheng]

Good Story, I hope I am Mark

[riowilly]

ya good story, too hope i'm mark. is it the true story? have not screw a teacher before, maybe try next time

[retire11]

What a story.

[Jaguar00]

Walau, I share my collection of stories out of goodwill kena zap by some idiot :mad::mad::mad: tulan

Story to be continued...

[donyyong]

pls continue..............