Tutoring the Teacher

Tutoring the Teacher

I’ve never had much luck with women. It’s not that I’m unattractive – my looks are average at worst. I stand at about 5’11, with blonde hair, green eyes and a slightly muscular build. It’s just that since I was a freshman in high school, I’ve loved computers. My mother bought me an old computer from one of her work friends and from the minute I turned it on, I immersed myself in the world of computer electronics – programming, hardware, web design – anything that interested me. Needless to say, my social life took second place to computers in my hierarchy of importance. Throughout my high school career, I had only a couple of serious girlfriends. But by my senior year, I knew most of the ins and outs of the computer world. Ironically enough, it was this knowledge that led me to become involved with a woman who showed me things greater than any hunk of plastic and metal ever could.

***

“Is anyone in here good with computers?”

I looked up from the thick World History book, suddenly interested when Ms. Davis had said something about computers.

“Anybody?” she asked again.

I hesitated a little, but raised my hand timidly. She looked directly at me. “You are, Seth? I’m taking a web design class this semester and I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean, I’ve barely even touched a computer. Are you busy after school? Would you mind staying here and helping me study?”

How could I resist? Ms. Davis was a beautiful young woman, no more than 25 years old. Her soft young face was framed by a shock of lovely light brown hair; her almond-colored eyes were big and innocent. I had often found myself sizing up her body, my eyes moving voraciously up and down her petite figure. She often wore soft-colored sweaters that showed off her round, full breasts. She wore at least a C cup – quite large for a woman of her size; she was about 5’5 and probably weighed no more than 115 pounds. I had instantly taken a liking to her when I began taking her World History class. She was a calm, humorous person – unlikely traits for a teacher.

So when she asked me to help her study, I couldn’t say no. She seemed like such a nice person, and was quite attractive as well – getting to know her better couldn’t hurt.

That afternoon after the last bell rang, I went to her class and opened the door. She was sitting at one of the desks, looking down at a book. She looked up as I arrived and we exchanged hellos. As I sat down next to her, I half-expected her to suddenly kiss me and tell me she wanted to have sex right there on the desk; I suppose it had always been a little fantasy of mine to fuck a teacher. Of course, nothing of the sort happened. I helped her go over some notes and study for a quiz she’d be taking the next day. Although the meeting seemed to be strictly business, she seemed comfortable around me, which made me feel comfortable with her. It didn’t feel awkward or uneasy as I had feared it would; she was such a nice person that I couldn’t help but feel as if we were old friends.

After about an hour of studying, she thanked me for helping her and asked me if I could stop by the next day as well. “Sure,” I said with a smile. She thanked me again and I left.

Things continued that way for the next few weeks. I went to her class almost every day to help her study after school. I became more and more comfortable around her; after a few days I felt as if she was just one of my school friends. I could joke around with her – something I could never do with another teacher. Her pleasant smile and infectious laugh had made me feel totally at ease with her. After a few weeks, I realized that I was beginning to like her, not just as a woman who I was attracted to, but as a person as well.

I quickly scolded myself for having those thoughts. She was much older than me, and a relationship between her and I would probably be not only awkward but unwelcome. However, I was 18; it’s not as if it would be illegal… Still, I decided that it was just my overactive teenage hormones and that it was best to set my feelings aside. She needed help with a class – not a boyfriend.

But as the weeks wore on, I began to notice something strange about Ms. Davis’ behavior. Several times, I was reading a question from a study guide to her when I’d look up and see her staring directly into my eyes. The look on her face didn’t seem to be one of rapt attention, either; more like one of enamored daydreaming. I’d call her name and she’d snap out of whatever it was, then ask me to repeat the question.

There were a few instances where it was hot in the classroom – it was getting close to summer – and I took my school uniform shirt off. Most of the time I was wearing only a tight t-shirt underneath, and several times I caught her staring at my chest or arms.