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Note: If you want to skip the long seduction, go right from THREE MONTHS AGO to BACK TO THE PRESENT.


When she went into her room to change, she left the door ajar. The full length mirror on the inside of the door reflected the image of a teenage girl’s bedroom – pink walls, frilly bed spread, and clothes strewn about the floor. Kylie’s back was to the mirror as she picked up the clothes and threw them in a corner…then, with no warning, she shimmied out of her tight jeans and stood up – in just her little t-shirt, short socks and yellow panties.

“Shit! I can’t be watching this!” I said, and turned my head towards the window. How the hell had I gotten myself into this mess? Alone with my beautiful student in her house, with the image of her tight little panty clad ass burning into my brain.


As the bell rang to end 3rd period, I waved and said goodbye to my students, picked up my laptop and left the chem lab to go next door. After 3 periods of chemistry, I always looked forward to my 4th period astronomy class. Lots more interesting, plenty of awesome pictures and topics – and as an elective class, the students tended to really enjoy the subject.

As I greeted the new class, I noticed it was the usual mix of students; a third I knew from previous classes, a third I hadn’t met yet, and a third football players I was in the middle of coaching (a few thinking Coach would let ’em skate through the class…like they hadn’t learned anything from practice). High fives to a bunch of the guys, greetings to all and quick jokes or convos to the students I knew, a couple of giggling shoulder hugs and everyone sits and it’s time to start.

I like to wow ’em on the first day, so I quickly set the stage by explaining how stars form, turn off the lights, and start the show. Half an hour later, the music fades away, and I slowly turn the lights back on. Half the class cheers, half breaks into excited conversations with their neighbors…and a handful in the back blearily look around as they try to wake up. Cool…my new intro video went over well.

“Welcome to Astronomy! We’re gonna have a lot of fun this year, but we’re gonna get a lot of work done too. I promise, at the end of this class, you will be able to overdo it and bore everyone at a party…my wife says I’m an expert at it!” General laughter, more talking, and the students get up to walk around the room and pick up papers and books. During this time, I walk around from table to table saying hi to everyone, start learning their names or make a little small talk with those I know. As I turn to the next table of students, I’m hit with a mini bear hug from the side, and the bright “Hi Mr. Fish!” that came with it.

“Kylie! Where’s your twin?” I say, as she untangles from me and looks up. This is a running joke we’ve had for a year…Kylie and Shannon are former students of mine, best friends, field hockey teammates, and so nearly joined at the hip I started calling them Siamese twins. If they HAD been joined, it would have been a complicated arrangement – where Shannon was a tall, willowy blond goddess, Kylie was petite and slim – barely over 5 feet and trying to stay above 90 lbs. Sweet heart shaped face, brown hair cascading down her pale neck and shoulders, and blue eyes that beamed with excitement at the world. Kylie was a heart breaker.

Her pretty face falls into a pout. “With Mrs. Starky” she says. “She has to make up her American History class from freshmen year, or she won’t graduate. I tried to get her to do it this summer…but you know Shannon and the beach.” Actually, I DON’T know about Shannon and the beach…I had learned a long time ago to avoid any wayward thoughts about my students, and I had worked particularly hard with these two. Friendly, open, enjoy each other’s company – but clamp down like a vise when my brain tries to wander.

“Well, we’ll have to make sure you don’t get lonely in here without your sis” I joke, but then start to clam up when she replies “Oh, I can’t be lonely…you’re here!” with a pretty smile. I smile back, mumble something about her being sweet, and wander to the next table.

As the end of the period approaches, I sit ’em all down and tell them my tutoring schedule. Nothing after school because of football practice, but I’m in my room everyday before school for an hour and at lunch…just walk in anytime. The bell rings, and like a thundering herd they’re out for lunch, excited to get time off and go hang with their friends. I work in my room during lunch, then go back next door to teach my final chem class. The last class of the day is my prep…no students…so I usually use it to get things ready for tomorrow and then leave early for practice.

As I walk by the field hockey team, Kylie and Shannon run over to say hi. Kylie is busting her friend for having to repeat a class, and telling how much fun she’s going to miss in astronomy. I back her up for a second, almanbahis giriş then try to be serious about how much work we’ll have to do…but she just laughs, reaches out and gives me a playful shove, then blows a raspberry at me as they both turn and run back to their practice. As the pony tails run away, I can’t help but notice her cute little butt swinging in her hockey skirt, her perfect legs…HEY! STOP IT! Sweet, innocent teen doesn’t need her 40 year old teacher leering at her…the vise clamps down and I’m off to practice myself. Nothing to worry about, just be cool.

The next couple of days go smoothly. On Friday, Kylie and Shannon come by for a visit at lunch. As they feast on their carrots and celery sticks, we talk about our summers and how it feels to finally be seniors. Shannon looks around conspiratorially, leans in, and quietly says “You know…Kylie has a boyyyyfriennnnd”. Smiling, she looks over at her victim, who’s not only blushing from her face, but from her ears…and even her upper chest that could be seen above her blouse. Unbidden, the question of how far down that blush reaches comes to my mind…HEY! CUT IT OUT!

“Well, finally!” I say. “There’ve been a bunch of guys buzzing around you all last year, and I don’t remember you hanging out with any of them.”

“Oh, she’s hung out with a couple” Shannon says with a mischievous grin.

“Shanna, STOP!” Kylie cried, slapping her friend on the arm. Turning to me with a calmer expression, she said “She’s just jealous.”

“Jealous?! I told you he’s a jerk. Hell, everyone told you he was a jerk…Mr. Fish will tell you he’s a jerk. Tell her Coach, tell her he’s a jerk.”

Time to bow out of this conversation. I stand up to start getting ready for next period, and say over my shoulder “How do I know if he’s a jerk – I don’t know who he is.”

“Yes you do,” Kylie says. “At least, he knows you. It’s Jake Willis.”

Jake Willis…yep, I do know him. He came out for football a few years back. At least, he was there for a couple of weeks. Bigger and older than most of his classmates (he’d been held back twice before getting to high school), he liked to shove people around. But, like most bullies, he preferred the smaller, weaker, the ones who won’t fight back…and you don’t find many of those on a football team. Lazy and mean, he had finally dropped out of school a couple of years ago, not to be heard from since. Until now.

“Yeah. He’s a jerk.” I said…and immediately regret it. Kylie’s eyes fill with tears, she stands up and looks at us, then stumbles out of the room. Shannon and I look at each other, she shrugs and takes off after her with an “I got it” thrown over her shoulder. Great job Coach. Take a sweet person and kick ’em when they’re down.

Monday, when Kylie comes into 3rd period and sits down, she finds a small white envelope on her desk with the words ‘Open in private’ across the front. I should have known better – she of course immediately tears it open and pulls out a note – along with two tickets. Her eyes get big when she sees the tickets – up front to the right, 10 rows back, to see Of Monsters and Men – her favorite band. All the note said was:

‘Sorry…I’m a jerk. Hope you and Jake have fun. F’

She looked up at me, liquid eyes and hands grasping the tickets to her chest, and mouthed the words “Thank you”. We shared a smile, and went on about our work.

During lunch, Kylie comes in and gives me a big shoulder hug while I’m sitting at my desk. “Thank you so much for the tickets! I’ve only seen them once, but we had really bad seats. These are awesome!” She pulls up a stool and sits next to me.

“Well, I just wanted to say I was sorry for being so thoughtless on Friday. My big mouth hurt you, and that’s not something I ever want to do. You’re an amazing and beautiful person, and should be able to go out with anyone you want without some idiot judging your choices.”

“No,” she says, “you weren’t mean. It’s just I’m getting so much crap…oops!” she looks up at me to see if I minded her language, but I just chuckle, pat her knee, and say “Football coaches invented salty language.”

She smiles and says “So much CRAP,” little private smile to me, “from everyone about Jake. I know he can be mean, but he’s not mean to me, and I think I can help him. But Shana, and Jenn, and EVERYONE says I’m wasting my time.”

“How does your Mom feel about him” I ask. She looks down at her hands, twisting in her lap, and says “She doesn’t know.”

“How come?”

“This has to be a secret between us…ok? I mean, I trust you, and want your advice…but you can’t tell anyone. OK?”

I know I shouldn’t do this, there are things I can’t keep secret if she tells me…but I promise her I won’t tell anyway.

“He’s 20. If my Mom knew she would ground me for life.”

“20?!” Oh yeah…those classes he repeated. “But, you’re only 17. He can get in a lot of trouble if, well, ‘something’ happened and he got turned almanbahis in.”

“That’s part of what I’m worried about. I turned 18 in August, but I think ‘something’ might have happened with him in June, and I’m scared he could get in trouble.”

“I’m not worried about his safety, I’m worried about yours! Jake is a pretty big guy, and I’ve seen him treat people badly. I hope you CAN change him – but what if you can’t? This is scary…I have to do something.”

“You promised you wouldn’t tell!” she cries.

I think for a minute, then say “You can trust me. If I say I won’t tell, I won’t – as long as you’re safe. So let’s try this: Here’s my cell number…you can call if there’s an emergency. Also, you come by once a week, and let me know how things are going with him. As long as he’s not trying to push you around, or treating you badly, I’ll leave it be. But if he does anything, ANYTHING that hurts you, I’m going to get involved. How’s that?”

She looks subdued, and is quiet for a moment, then quickly wraps her arms around my neck in a tight embrace and softly whispers “thank you” in my ear. I give her a quick hug back (her soft breath in my ear, her small waist, the way it curves under my hand into her hip – HEY. CUT IT OUT). I disengage, hold out my little finger, and say “Pinky swear”. She laughs, wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and says “Pinky swear” as we shake.

And so it begins. Every Monday she comes in at lunch, and we talk. Sometimes there are other students there to get help, and she jumps in to tutor while I’m with someone else. She says Shannon likes to hang out with some basketball players during lunch, and she wants to talk to me alone anyway…so sometimes it’s just the two of us. We talk about everything, and as the barriers come down we can end up with some pretty personal stuff. When it’s something that needs to be kept between us, one of us puts out our pinky, and we shake with that private smile.

As the weeks go by, I can’t pretend I’m not attracted anymore. Bound and determined to never show it, I can’t ignore how her sense of humor, bright outlook and sweet heart are melting their way in. I’ve always noticed what she wears, but now I have almost memorized her wardrobe; mostly shorts and jeans like most teenagers, with a couple of short skirts when she dresses up a bit. T-shirts, wide strap tanks with ties in the front, a couple of button blouses…open sandals or bright white tennis shoes, she dresses pretty but comfortable (except the couple of times she came in with black yoga pants apparently spray painted on. Those days were trouble). Petite and slim, she has beautiful legs, flat hips, small breasts and a cute butt…and she looks good in anything she wears.

My walls crashed in the middle of October. I remember the instant I lost any ability to resist fantasizing about beautiful Kylie. It was a Monday at lunch, and I was helping a couple of students at my desk. They had papers spread out, and Kylie leaned on the desk with her elbows while she explained something on the page to the guy next to her. Her white cotton tank drooped away from her body…and so did her white bra. Hitting me like a thunderbolt, I found myself staring directly at Kylie’s beautiful little breast. Smooth, pale and curved, topped with a half dollar sized pink areola coming to a soft tip… no visible nipple. Her shoulders moved as she started to write something, but her breast didn’t swing or jiggle. When she finished writing, she brought her arm back, and her upper arm squeezed against the side of her little titty, flattening it against her body. So soft, so smooth…I knew if I leaned just a little to the side, I would be able to see her other breast, too.

But, I was frozen in place – I couldn’t lean, I couldn’t look away, my mind wasn’t really arguing…it just wasn’t there. A tiny voice was yelling “stop, turn away, stop”, but that voice was far away, deep deep down, and could almost not be heard above the screaming wonder of seeing her naked beauty. Finally, after a period of time that could have been a blink of an eye or eternity itself, she stood up – clothes falling back into place.

Freed from my paralysis, I bolted up and turned around to face the board. Grabbing a pen, I started writing stuff like I was trying to figure something out…which I was. How in the hell do I get this image out of my brain so I can function? Mumbling something about the bathroom, I walked out the door. By the time I got back it was close to 5th period and no one was in my room. Fortunately, my next class was mostly a video on atomic bonding, so I had more time to get my shit together. OK, cool…I got this. Concentrate on the task at hand, keep the brain busy, and I was fine.

Until bedtime. Laying in bed trying to empty my mind, always coming back to that sweet creamy curve hanging above her padded bra, her pink tip looking like it was painted on the smooth surface. How soft it squished when she pressed it with almanbahis giriş her arm. Sleep came slow, and troubled, and I knew I was in real trouble the next morning as I woke from an intense and realistic dream…of being on top of my beautiful naked Kylie, arms and legs wrapped around me and wailing as I drilled her tight little pussy.

Working hard to get my thoughts under control, I did fine during classes. In third period, I spent as much time as possible working with any table of students EXCEPT Kylie’s. Wave and a smile as she left for lunch, and I was free! I hadn’t even noticed how her bra strap kept falling off her shoulder, or how exciting her hips were in those tiny shorts. Didn’t notice her cute butt cheeks clicking back and forth as she moved away, or how her slim legs didn’t quite touch each other as she walked.

Oh Lordy, I’ve never had it this bad.

It slowly got better day by day, until I was pretty much fine by Friday. I figured the game that night would be enough to get my emotions onto another track…but I was worried how next Monday’s lunch was going to go. In the end, I wussed out, and called in sick Monday.

I missed school, but I couldn’t miss practice, and as I was headed out across the field Kylie and Shannon saw me and ran over. “You missed today!” Kylie says with a stern look on her face.

“Yeah, I had some stuff I had to take care of.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Personal stuff, Nosey. Now I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait a sec. I wanted to talk to you today, I need your advice. Can I come see you at lunch tomorrow?”

“Of course! Door’s always open. OK…see you tomorrow!” And I run off before they do – not sure if I could resist staring if they had taken off first.

The next morning I wake to a dream of lying under Kylie as she sits on top of me, frantically wiggling her hips and calling my name as she comes all over my cock.

Today might be tough.

Worse than tough. Insane, frustrating, even painful. Kylie comes to talk at lunch, but says it’s private and there are too many people in the room. She knows I have prep 6th period, and asks if she can come talk then. She has PE, and she’s certain her coach will let her out. I say sure, and prepare myself to be a robot. When she comes in, I make sure both doors stay open, and we take a couple of stools at one of the tables to talk. I ignore her short skirt, and the way it hikes up her slim thighs when she puts her little feet up on the rung, and look her in the eyes as I ask her if everything is ok. “Has Jake done anything?”

“Well, no. Yes. Uhhh…maybe.” She’s usually not this frazzled. A quick joke comes to mind, but I figure this isn’t the time. She needs to tell me something, and it seems hard for her.

“Why don’t you just start telling me what’s up, see if it makes sense when it comes out in words,” I say.

“It’s just that…I don’t know…I don’t think I want to go out with Jake anymore. I don’t hate him, but he only wants to do 2 things, and he doesn’t seem to care at all about what I want.”

No way am I going to fall into the trap of asking ‘what two things’. “Have you talked to him about this?” I ask.

“Yeah. He says he liked drinking beer and playing video games with his buddies before we met so it’s ok now, and that being boyfriend/girlfriend automatically means sex.”

Damn! There it was, even after trying to miss it. Well, step aside Coach, and start trying to help her with her problem.

“First, if he cares more about hanging with his buds than spending time with you, then he isn’t doing the ‘boyfriend’ thing right. And as to sex, that’s nobody’s choice but yours, in a relationship or not. It’s your body, your choice EVERY TIME, or he should just walk. Now, without getting too personal, are you being careful? You know, as to pregnancy and diseases?”

“Oh, no! I mean yes! We’ve only done real sex once – at least, I think we might have – but he always wants me to…well…’take care of him’,” She blushed that deep pink color and says “Oh my God, you must think I’m a slut or something!”

“Are you kidding me?! You’re an angel! Anything about this relationship that makes you feel low or dirty is a reflection of HIM, not you.” Yeah. Right. I’m not crushing, am I?

She reaches out and puts her hand on my knee. “Thank you so much Mr. Fish. I’ve been all mixed up about this, and I knew you could help me.” She takes her hand back, and with it the electric current that had been coursing through my body at her touch.

Unable to control myself, I ask what she means by ‘take care of him’. “I use my hand. Twice I used my mouth, but I didn’t like it. He tasted yuck and kept pushing my head into, well, you know. So, we don’t need protection for that.”

“What about the one time?”

“I’m not sure. In June, he took me to a party and I got really drunk. I can’t remember much, but I woke up in the back seat of his car. My panties were off, and I was really sore down there…but I don’t remember anything. Jake just laughed, and showed me an empty condom wrapper. I got really mad, almost broke up with him…and we haven’t done it since.”


“Yeah, looking back, I should have.”

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