The Teacher & Paper Boy

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“Uh, well, um… No, Ma’am.” I could feel the blush sweep over me.

“Tell you what, Why don’t you drop the ‘Ma’am’ and just call me Kim.” She leaned forward as she spoke. The flesh hills in the ‘V’ of her blouse looked like they would jump out any second.

“Yes, uh, okay, Kim.” It was hard to say her name. It was hard to talk.

“Fine.” She leaned back with a smile and crossed her legs. Her skirt had ridden up until I could see the underside of the crossed leg all the way to the top of her stocking.

Another sip or two of the chocolate and I was feeling very warm and strange. It was good and made me feel good. I wasn’t sure if I should be feeling that way.

“That chocolate tastes great but I feel a little weird,” I said.

“Bad?” she asked, watching me. She uncrossed her legs and turned toward me, knees apart.

“No, not bad. Warm and funny.” My eyes dropped to her knees and they were wide apart. The room light filled all the shadows and I could see her thighs and stockings and the crotch of her panties. I saw a dark, wet looking spot on the nylon. I wondered if she had wet her pants.

Things were getting a little fuzzy. I looked up at her face she had a strange look in her eyes. I could see a little perspiration on her upper lip. I bit my lower lip. It was a little numb.

“Did my chocolate cause that?” She was looking at my lap.

The front of my jeans was one big bulge.

“Uh, No!” I stammered, twisting and turning trying to make the bulge smaller.

“Then what did?” She was leaning toward me, her eyes fixed on the bulge. Her tongue licked her full red lips and her nostrils seemed to flare. The way she stared at it made it worse. My cock started to throb.

“I… I don’t know,” I lied. “It just does that sometimes.”

I was about to panic. Setting my cup in the saucer on the table and gathering my route book and raincoat.

“I guess… better go,” I stammered.

“Oh, don’t go just yet, ” she said softly. Her slender fingers curled softly around my wrist. It was like electricity flowing from her hand. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

I laid my book and coat aside, slowly. My ears were buzzing and I looked down into the valley of her breasts. Maybe just a few minutes more.

“What time is it?” I croaked.

She looked at the clock on the shelf behind me.


“Well, I guess, can stay a little while,” I relented.

“Good! It’s nice to have someone to talk to.” She relaxed a little but let her fingers stay on my arm.

“Move over her on the sofa. I like to be close to someone when we talk,” she coaxed.

I was reluctant to move because I would lose the vantage point I had for sneaking peaks under her skirt. She tugged gently and I rose and moved around the coffee table, crouched over. My cock was still a bulge and I was trying to hide it.

Her perfume filled my nostrils as I sat down on the end of the sofa. She tugged at my arm.

“No, down here, closer,” she demanded.

I slid across to her. She was still holding my wrist. Nonchalantly she sat my palm on her stocking covered knee and covered it with her hand.

“Now, isn’t that better?” Her eyes had that strange look again.

I nodded and reached for my cup. Turning it up I emptied it. It burned faintly as it went down.

“Empty?” she asked.

“Yeah, but that’s enough for now.”

“Here have a sip of mine.” She held the cup to my lips. The red print of her lips touched mine and I sipped the chocolate. It burned much stronger than mine had. I almost coughed. She took it away and turned the same place to her lips and watched me over the rim as she emptied the cup.

I was very conscious of my hand on her knee. I was also conscious of the aching throb in my pants. Her eyes were fixed on mine.

“Your hand is so warm,” she said softly. “Is that as warm as your hand?” She pointed to the bulge in my jeans.

Before I could find my stricken voice, she ask, “Does it hurt?”

“Uh, no!” I squeaked. Her hand was moving mine slowly back and forth on her knee. My thumb curled the hem of her skirt with each stroke.

“What do you do when it gets like that?” She was staring at my bulge. Her breathing was getting raspy. She licked her lips several times.

“Well, uh, well, nothing,” I replied.

“You mean it just goes away?”

Her knees had opened to a ‘V’, the hem of her skirt three inches above her knee. I was mesmerized with what she was doing with my hand. I knew if she kept on, I’d be touching bare skin above her stocking tops soon.

“Most of the time,” I lied.

“Come on, don’t lie to me,” she chided. “You play with it, don’t you?”

Panic. She had read my mind! I stared at her heavy lidded eyes. She almost looked mystical. Her face was flushed. She was breathing noisily through her red lips. I just stared, motionless.

My whole hand was under the hem of her skirt. I could feel the swell of her thigh as she stroked my hand back and forth. The texture of the stocking changed from mesh to solid band under my sweating palm. My ears pounded with the same pulse that throbbed through my jerking cock.

“Don’t you!” she hissed. My finger slipped over the solid band of nylon and grazed soft smooth skin.

“Yes!” I gasped.

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