Mr. Tucker

by Justine Elvira

  She's sitting in front of me in a practically see-through white t-shirt. It reminds me of the tank she wore in the second picture she sent–the one where her erect nipples could be seen. Covering her bottom is a short, micro-mini skirt, making it almost impossible to look at her face instead of her body. Her heavy chest and fat nipples peek through her thin cotton bra, giving me a faint glimpse at what's underneath. Her thick, toned thighs and those legs I've imagined around my waist as she milks my cock dry with her teenage pussy, taunt me.

  Why doesn't this school have a dress code? Back in Georgia my high school had strict rules on what we could and could not wear. If the girls didn't follow the dress code they were sent home. At this school the administration believes in freedom of expression. A way for the students to express themselves is through their attire. Savannah could probably come to school in a bikini and not get in trouble, and damn, she'd look amazing in a bikini.

  I'm going straight to hell.

  For fuck's sake, she's my student. I should not be having these improper thoughts and what's even worse is the little temptress knows exactly what she's doing to me. She's made her desire for me clear from day one and each time she hits on me she's even harder to resist.

  Today's the hardest day of them all for one reason. I know from looking at her file that tomorrow Savannah will be eighteen. Legal. No longer jailbait. And God help me but I want to be her first conquest into adulthood.

  I didn't have a great family life. My parents had money and thought that money could buy love and happiness. By the time I was twelve, my mother was addicted to pain medication and my father drank himself to sleep every night. With their addictions there wasn't much time for me.

  When I graduated from high school I didn't take my inheritance and instead enrolled in college up north in Illinois. I wanted to earn my degree in education and make my own hard-earned money. My family's money sure as hell didn't buy happiness so I didn't want to take a penny of it.

  I graduated from college and then taught for a few years in Georgia, but I still had my parents' reputations hanging over my head. I needed an escape but I still wanted to be close to some family, so when the position opened here I took it without a moment of hesitation. I thought it would be nice teaching in a small town and being around my aunt and uncle.

  Moving here to teach would give me the opportunity to show the students what the world has to offer if they venture outside the Appalachians. Never once did I imagine I'd be fighting impure thoughts every time a certain female student entered the room. I should have never started tutoring knowing I was attracted to her, but something in her soulful eyes called out to me and I had to help her. She was meant for more than this small town and her grades needed to improve in order for her to get out of here.

  So I helped her and unfortunately I've fallen for her over the last few months. My dick hardens when I'm around her, wanting to find a warm home in her pussy. Every time I walk down the halls I hear the senior boys talk about her. She's been the topic of a couple of my cousin Chett's conversations, too. Apparently he used to fool around with Savannah but that stopped when I came to town.

  The smug, arrogant part of me hopes their fooling around stopped because of her infatuation with me.

  Damn, her nipples are so hard right now they could cut through glass.

  She's leaning down, her tits falling over her desk. She's purposely displaying them to me instead of concentrating on the movie. It sucks that she's not completely to blame because I'm not watching the movie either. We've been sending each other flirtatious looks all period and if we were the only two people in the classroom I'd lose that last shred of self-control and strip her top and bra off so I could bite her hard nipples and suck on her swollen, fat breasts. I want to drown myself between them and then motorboat my way out.

  Fuck, that would be amazing. After making the gap between her tits wet enough I'd force her down to her knees and drop my pants so I could slide my cock between her breasts and fuck those perfect tits until I'm coming all over her soft skin.

  I can't control the dirty thoughts. There's something fucking wrong with me.

  The final bell rings and I discreetly adjust myself before standing up and turning the lights on and the video off. "There's no homework tonight but make sure to be prompt to class tomorrow because if you miss the first ten minutes you miss the quiz and I will not be allowing retakes."

  Some of my students–the students who struggle to get here on time–groan and mumble their complaints as they head out of class. I hear Savannah's soft voice with the hint of her southern twang complain under her breath. She's been doing so much better in all her classes, especially mine, but the girl has difficulty getting to class on time.

  "Is there a problem with that, Savannah?" I can't help the smug smirk that spreads across my face. I could have ignored her mumbling like I did with the other students but I rather her stay back and answer so I get a few minutes alone with her before she rushes out of here and to her job at the gas station.

  "You're only making this rule because I'm late to your class once or twice a week. You want to punish me."

  She has no idea just how much I want to punish her. I've dreamt of swatting her ass, forcing her to feel a mixture of desire and humiliation.

  "That's not true, Savannah. Part of every teacher’s responsibilities is to prepare their students for once high school is over. If you were reporting to a job instead of last period history you'd get reprimanded for being late. The same applies here."

  "I'm never late to my job at the GG-mart."

  "Then you should never be late here."

  She stands up at her desk, revealing her thick sultry legs and soft skin. Her skirt is even shorter than I remember from the beginning of class. If she were to bend over I bet I'd be able to see a hint of her ass cheeks.

  I have the sudden urge to knock over my pencils and ask her to pick them up.

  She adjusts her notebook and textbook, holding them against her flat stomach. Her teeth bite down on her succulent bottom lip and she flutters her eyelashes seductively. I'm on to her. She's trying to look desirable...and she's succeeding. "I have to work until ten tonight. Can you pick me up then? I still want to study tonight but if you think it's too late I'll understand. I can walk home."

  There's no way in hell I'm going to let her walk home that late at night looking the way she does. She knows this and is trying to act all innocent when we both know I'm going to pick her up.

  "I'll be there at ten, Savannah. Now hurry up to work so you can get everything done and be ready at ten."

  She smiles victoriously at me and saunters out of the room, shaking her ass from side to side with each step and making it impossible for me to think of anything else but my hand slapping that ass as I pull her hair back with my other hand and fuck her from behind.

  Once she's left the room I walk over to the door and close it, locking it from inside. Immediately I'm sliding the zipper of my khakis down and pulling my hard cock out of my boxer briefs and through the gap of my unzipped pants. I lick my palm and begin to stroke my erection, thinking of Savannah's large perky breasts with pink, quarter size areolas that I've seen through the thin shirts she teasingly wears to school, and late at night.

  She'll be eighteen in a few hours and the next time she teases me I'm going to rip her shirt off and fit as much of each tit in my mouth as possible. Then I'll suck on her nipples and she'll beg me for more. My hands will slide down beneath her skirt, trail up her thighs until I'm finger fucking her sweet pussy, preparing her for my long, thick dick. Once she's ready I won't take it easy, plunging inside her with one deep thrust and making her cunt so satisfied with its intrusion and aching for more.

  Oh God, she'll feel so good.

  My hand continues to move up and down my erection, squeezing my thick girth and stroking up to rub my thumb over the pink head that would rather be inside Savannah's warm, wet pussy than have my hand jerk him off.

  I bet her
pussy is like sinking into warm, red velvet.

  And just like that I'm groaning out quietly as I come all over my hand to the thought of that perfect seventeen-year-old ass. The images are still not enough. I'm covered in cum from an explosive orgasm and my dick is still hard and unsatisfied.

  I've been a good teacher and held off for long enough but Savannah will be eighteen tomorrow.

  The good teacher act is over.

  Chapter Nine

  Savannah

  I take the last few minutes of my shift to change back into the white t-shirt and skirt I wore to school today. I usually go to our tutoring sessions in my skinny jeans and the top I wore to work but Landon's eyes practically popped out of their sockets when he saw me in school today and I know it was because of my super thin t-shirt and micro-mini skirt. He may be doing a great job at resisting me but I'm not going to make it easy for him.

  "Damn¸ Savannah. You should have worn that during your shift. It would have given me something to drool over and pass the time." I do a little spin in front of him as the bathroom door behind me closes.

  "You better watch yourself, Dylan. I'm still seventeen."

  "And tomorrow you'll be eighteen–no longer an age I need to worry about. What will you do with your time now that you'll no longer be able to play on my vulnerability for your hot body?"

  "Oh, I'm sure I can find something new...to do." I wink at him.

  I shouldn't be flirting with him. I'm playfully leading him on even though I'm not attracted to him anymore, but I've been doing it for so long I find it hard to stop. I guess the flirting is innocent enough, and Dylan enjoys our banter just as much as I do.

  "I'm going to throw the offer out–just this once. If you ever find yourself needing something to...do...I'll be more than happy to be the man you do it with."

  Sending him a sincere smile in response to his honesty I reply, "I'll try and remember that."

  The bell rings inside the GG-mart and Landon's car pulls up. He's here to pick me up.

  "Your teacher's right on time. I've got to say he's the only teacher I've ever heard of who picks his student up after work. He must really want you to do well since he's giving you extra late night tutoring sessions. He's very dedicated to you." From the mocking sound of Dylan's voice I know what he's insinuating and I don't like it.

  "What does that mean?" I ask, resting my hands on my hips.

  He smirks. "Oh, you know exactly what I mean. Does he like the whole trashy schoolgirl thing you have going on there with your outfit?"

  "We've never done anything, Dylan."

  "It's not my business and I'm not judging. You're young and should be having fun, Savannah. I see the way your face lights up when he picks you up every night. He's one lucky bastard." Ignoring Dylan and his observant comments I grab my backpack and head out to hop in Landon's car.

  During the drive to Landon's place I use the silence to dig down deep in my soul. What have I been trying to achieve these past few months? If I get my way and things progress between Mr. Tucker and me, it might not be a future of steamy romantic rendezvous like I've pictured in my head. If any of my friends ever found out I was hooking up with him they wouldn't understand. They think high school popularity and dating guys on the football team is what my senior year should be about, not falling for my history teacher.

  If the school board found out about us then the positive change in my grades would be questioned. No one would believe I earned those grades from studying and hard work. They'd think Mr. Tucker gave them to me because I was fooling around with him. Is a personal relationship with him worth the possibility of all that scrutiny?

  I glance over at him discreetly and he's bobbing his head to some old-school R&B music blaring through the car speakers. His wavy brown hair is bouncing as he lips the words to the upbeat song. I like seeing this side of him. He's relaxed when he's around me, clearly comfortable being himself. It's adorable.

  And I have my answer. I've been trying desperately to achieve a pure, romantic relationship with him and he's absolutely worth it.

  When we get to his place I walk in and sit down on his comfortable, worn-in sofa, ready to work. Opening my backpack I pull out my history and math books and the notebooks that go along with each subject.

  Landon is standing in his entryway, leaning with one shoulder against the wall. "Are you hungry? I have some leftover pizza if you want some."

  He's always doing this. I eat here more than I do at home. "Pizza again. Is that all you eat?" I tease.

  "No. I order the occasional burger and greasy fries." His townhouse is small so I can see right into the kitchen as he moves over to the fridge and assembles a plate of cold pizza. He sets the plate in the microwave and hits a few buttons. The microwave starts up with a soft humming sound and then he's back facing me. Landon's dressed down tonight in sweats and a t-shirt. He's usually still in the clothes he wore to school when he picks me up but I guess asking him to pick me up an hour later than normal was enough of a difference to make him dress more comfortably. He's not even wearing his glasses.

  I like it.

  In his t-shirt I get a better glimpse at the chiseled muscles underneath. I know from some of our car ride conversations that he likes to work out first thing in the morning, before he has to head into work. His sweats are a looser fit than his shirt but if I look close enough I can see a large bulge between his legs. I can't help wondering what it looks like and how long he is when he's hard.

  Looking away, I try and take slow and steady breaths, and focus on the schoolwork in front of me. There's less than two hours until midnight. I need to get my head out of the gutter until then.

  The microwave beeps and Landon pulls the pizza out for me. "Did you order cheese just for me?" I ask as he walks over with my plate and a glass of sweet tea for me. Landon likes his pizza covered in meat.

  "It's no big deal. I had them cover the other half of the pizza with the works."

  He's such a sweet guy. It's hard to remember he's my teacher during moments like this. I take a bite of the greasy square-shaped slice of pizza and it's heaven in my mouth as the grease and melted mozzarella blend together. "So good," I moan with my mouth still stuffed with the bite. My manners have disappeared.

  "Why did you bring your history book over? I didn't assign any homework."

  I finish my bite and respond, "Actually, I'm caught up on everything. Ms. Kielly says I'm ahead in her class."

  The confused expression on his face quickly changes to anger. "If you have no homework then why did you insist on coming over tonight, Savannah? I could have just driven you home after work."

  "I didn't want to go home. I thought we could hang out."

  He sits down on the far side of the sofa and drags a hand through his wavy hair. "We're not friends, Savannah. We can't just hang out late at night in my home if I'm not going to be helping you with your schoolwork. I'm already risking a lot tutoring you here. I think you forget that I'm your teacher, or maybe you just don't care."

  Setting my pizza down on the cushion between us I respond, "You mean like you forget?"

  "Oh, no. I'm painfully aware that I'm your teacher."

  His honest response provokes me to go further. "When I was in your class today did you think of me as your student...or someone, maybe, more intimate?"

  Instead of answering me he stands from the sofa and walks over to the entertainment center on the opposite side of the room. The flat screen turns on and the vixen inside me cheers, thinking maybe he's come around and turning a movie on for us to watch. I'm up for a "Netflix and Chill" kind of night.

  My hopes are shattered when he turns on one of those twenty-four hour news channels and the newscasters are in the middle of talking about our country's financial deficit and foreign policy. Facing the television with his back to me he says, "If you insist on being here with no homework to do, you're going to learn about a different type of history. History in the making."

  "So boring." I meant to
keep that thought to myself but it just slipped out.

  He abruptly turns to face me, his eyes lighting up with amusement but then he quickly hides it. "You think the fact that our country is trillions of dollars in debt is boring?"

  I move my plate to the coffee table in front of me and stand up. There's only half a piece of pizza left on the plate. "No, I think the fact that we're two young, good-looking people who are sexually attracted to one another and not acting on that attraction is boring."

  His hands are at his sides and his fists tighten and release over and over again like he's trying to control his anger and hold himself back, but then suddenly he's in front of me. His abs brush against my chest as he looks down at me, his eyes pinned on mine. Landon's breath flutters across my face, causing my skin to tingle and my body to hum.

  His proximity is startling.

  Has he made his mind up? I think I'm weakening his defense, which is exactly what I wanted to do. All I want is one night with him. Actually, I want more than one night but if I can just get one night I know he'll continue to come back for more–guys always come back if they're guaranteed sex. Has Landon ever felt this way about someone before, because I haven't? I feel like my day begins and ends with him. I'm in perpetual sadness and depression until those few hours each day that I get to see him.

  His voice is soft, hurt and sadness mixed with understanding is evident from his expression. "I'm still your teacher, Savannah. This, right here, is never going to happen. Let's just sit down and watch the news together. When you're finished eating I'll take you home."

  Our closeness is broken as he steps back and a part of me knows he's right. We're never going to happen, but I can't help it if he's all that I want.

  I purposely eat my last piece of pizza slowly, not wanting this night to end because that will mean I failed at getting Mr. Tucker to see things from my point of view. I consume three more glasses of sweet tea, triggering me to take multiple trips to the washroom. I've drunk enough sweet tea tonight to give me diabetes.