Taught

I was a healthy 14-year-old girl. Some found me very attractive, others not so much. I was 5’2, outgoing, tall and lanky . . . had a big social circle of friends who adored me, a loving home, and a good education. With my long black hair that reached to my waist, pink full lips, tiny hips and apple-sized breasts, I sometimes could easily turn quite a few heads. And back then, I had a tutor. He was a plump looking older gentleman, 5’8, 42 years of age who educated me in his home in mathematics (and much more) my final year in middle school.

I had learned that he lived with his wife and teenage twin daughters. I had been studying under him for two years by that point. He was a very nice and friendly guy. He’d properly praised students for doing a good job and would help those who lagged behind in their studies. A pat on the head, a pat on the back, an occasional half hug was very normal behavior towards his students. He would routinely lean over from behind me, while he taught math. Although some might find this behavior suspect, no one ever thought anything of it.

He never touched anyone inappropriately and never glanced at anyone in a perverse way. So when he leaned over me while showing me shortcuts to the math we were learning . . . it was nothing abnormal. Over the course of the year my grades had improved tremendously, and there was nothing to complain about. Occasionally when he would lean over, and take the pen from my hand and show me how to do a math problem correctly, the cap of the pen or the knuckle of his thumb would accidentally brush over the underside of my breast. It happened only a few times and he showed no indication of ever really noticing what was taking place.

But things changed on a very rainy day. I was suddenly caught by a late afternoon shower on my walk to his house for my tutor session. School had just ended for the day. The weather channel had not forecast any news of rain for the day, so I did not carry any umbrella with me. I arrived at his door, soaked down to my bones and shivering. I hurriedly rang the doorbell to be let into the warmth of his home.

Waiting for the door to open, I saw his neighbor in the next building hurriedly unlocking his own door to get inside. The poor soul looked half a decade older than me and like a drowned rat, he had been caught in the rain as well. The door in front of me creaked open, revealing Michael, my tutor. It was unusual for him to come to the door, because his wife normally greeted me. He took one look at me and quickly ushered me inside. He disappeared into his room, while I stood inside his living room, cold and shivering, dripping from head to toe.

He came back with a towel in one hand and suggested I change into some of his wife’s clothes before I caught a nasty cold. He informed me how his wife and his kids had gone over to his mother-in-laws place for about a month for their kids’ school vacation. He had stayed behind for his students and had assured me his wife wouldn’t mind me borrowing her clothes. I saw no reason to say no.

I put down my bag (waterproof, thank heavens) on the living room floor and went inside the bedroom to change. I left my wet shoes and socks in the vestibule. Michael, as he preferred to be called, followed in behind me and headed for the dresser. He found a thin white top and a pair of surprisingly short shorts for me to change into, and laid them out on the bed. He looked at me, up and down with a small smile playing on his lips. “Here, change into these quickly, you look cold,” he said, also handing me the towel.

“Thank you,” I whispered as I wiped my hair. Since I literally was soaked all the way to the skin, I knew I would probably have to shed all of my clothes. The thought of going commando (less any undies) in front of this man . . . was a bit of a stretch, even though he was my tutor.

“Besides,” he said while he moved towards the door, “It’s a good thing that its after sundown, so no one will see you looking like that. Now, change quickly, I’ll be waiting for you in the study room. Bring your wet clothes with you . . . and don’t forget . . . your bra and panties, and I will put them in the dryer, so that you can return home later tonight, in nice dry clothes.” I looked down to find my school clothes still sticking to every curve of my body like a glove, hugging my breasts as beads of water rolled down my chest towards my fully visible white bra.



The rain had made my shirt completely translucent. I blushed hard as Michael walked out of the room. I locked the door and started changing. After taking off my outer clothes, my earlier thoughts came true . . . and I realized my bra and panties were soaked through by the rain and they would have to join my other clothes . . . just like Michael said, all headed for the dryer.

I peeled everything off my body, briefly looking at my naked image in the mirror. One by one . . . I carefully fit into his wife’s top and shorts. Surprisingly the shorts fit almost perfectly, but the white top was about two sizes too big for me. In fact, it rolled off half my shoulder. I sighed and attempted to straighten the shirt over my developing breasts. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

I changed and hurried towards the study room, grabbing my bag on the way. I took a seat, brought out the study materials and started to solve some math problems assigned originally by the teacher. Michael leaned against a wall in front of me while he watched me study. I looked up and found his eyes burning into mine. With a start, I realized he wasn’t looking at my face at all.