Before I begin, you must know that I never intended on any of this, nor did I want it to quickly escalate the way it has. I'm not sure what has taken over me. Maybe my cock, or my passiveness, I'm not sure. I've always prided myself on my ability to control myself and now, I can no longer have bragging rights to that claim. None of this makes sense, just let me start from the very beginning...
I had moved to Pittsburgh just a year ago after deciding that it was the place to start my future. A very promising future I must add, for I had finished near the top of my class in college to major in music. I had myself a nice job lined up too. It was a very high place as assistant director to a high school's symphony. Yeah, that doesn't sound that prestigious, but the current director was old and would be biting the dust soon- hopefully. Don't be so appalled, it's a dog-eat-dog world, people. To be honest, though, I am not sure why they picked me for the job. I'm a skinny guy with the strength of a weasel and the nerdy appearance of Urkel. I figured they didn't see me as a threat; you hear of all those cases of teachers messing with students, and they figured I wouldn't cause trouble. Or so they thought...
Anyway, it's the first day of school. Most students were coming back from Florida from their summer vacations and still looked majorly hung over. The students had this envious bronze and brown complexion to their skin while I, on the other hand, had manage to stay a "Casper the Ghost" kind of white. I'm not afraid of the sun; it's just melanoma isn't something I take lightly. It's the silent killer.
God, sorry, I get so off topic. I have the attention span of a gnat. It's the first day of school, a beautiful Monday. I made my way soundly into the little office off of the band room. It held two desks; one vacant and the other had an old man that greatly resembled the stereotypical Santa Claus seated in it. He had one of those glorious white beards where you just want to touch it because it is so magnificent. He stood up out of his seat, in a bit of a struggle, and walked over to me with a genuine smile and soft eyes. "Good sir, you must be my lucky assistant," he declared, giving me a hearty handshake and a gap tooth smile.
Now, I felt like a dick because I was previously plotting my eulogy speech for the guy. I returned his handshake in the same firm manner he gave me and I replied nervously, "Well, I do hope this is the right place. I'm Matthew, er, Matthew Sexton."
He let out a loud laugh and said, "I like you already. I'm Gerome, Gerome Maxwell. Let me show you around the ole place." He put his arm around my shoulder roughly, causing me to become disfigured and uncomfortable. He showed me around the band room and the office, pointing out where things belonged and the daily routine of things. The whole conversation and exhibition lasted an hour because I couldn't move that fast because he waddled us around like a penguin. Don't get me wrong- the guy was the most kind person I'd met in over five years, but, damn, he could really lay off the donuts.
We finished the tour and I was about ready to unpack my stuff onto the neat little desk when he said, "Oh, I forgot to mention, as a part of being my assistant, you will be teaching some of my private lesson students."
My stomach flipped over and my throat went dry. I stammered, "Private lessons?"
"Yeah, I have my hands full, so I'm giving you some of my students. Besides, it's great pocket money," he replied cheerfully.
Let's stop right here for a moment, so I can explain. I don't like the idea of private lessons. There is nothing more suspicious than the word "private" and the word "lesson"- not to mention them together to form one phrase. It wasn't so much me I was concerned about; it was the student I was going to have to teach. What if the student gets any funny ideas like pulling a knife on me or a strap-on dildo? What if they are just spiteful and want to get me in trouble? They could! Crazy shit happens all the time!
I tried to swallow my paranoia and uneasy stomach and gave Mr. Maxwell a forced grin and a nod. He gave me the schedule of when my lessons would be. My first was going to be tomorrow. I love how they didn't mention this in the job description. I reassured myself, for I assumed that the kid would be an innocent band geek with braces and a face full of acne. No threat there. But still, the uneasiness raged in my stomach.
It was the end of the school day of Tuesday. I had my game face on and I had finally settled my stomach, thanks to an entire bottle of Pepto-Bismol. I had a clean cut look to myself, freshly shaven and my sleeves rolled perfectly equal to each other. Don't you hate when one sleeve is being a bitch and won't roll up the same height as the other? Well, I had managed to get them equal- took me an hour- but whatever.
I waited eagerly in the band room, for my decibel would be meeting there directly after school. Five minutes passed, then ten minutes. My foot tapped the ground aggressively as I stared at my watch. I sighed happily, realizing that it would be a no show. I chuckled, thinking about how crazy I was to be worried. I was about ready to pack up and call it a day when she entered the room.
Her wavy hair and bangs along her forehead waved back and forth as she hustled toward me. She had water dripping down her and I locked eyes with the most perfect tits I had ever seen. Maybe it was her tiny waist, but they had to have been double d's. It was evident she wasn't wearing a bra because her nipples were poking through her blue V-neck shirt. It's as if God himself had molded these beauties with his own holy hands because I was about ready to get on my knees and pray. Lucky bastard.
This wasn't my student, this could not be my student, I told myself.
She had a concerned look on her face when she approached me. She quickly said out of breath, "I'm so sorry for being late! I'm usually pretty punctual. I had to renew my driver's license because of my birthday, and you know how the BMV can be! Not to mention the roads were awful because of the rain- Where's Mr. Maxwell?"
She had a puzzled look on her face, but the only thing I noticed were her juicy lips. Her bottom lip stuck out mockingly as if it said, "Bite me, already". I shook out of it and cleared my voice, trying to remember the spell I had practiced earlier. "I'm going to be your new instructor, er, teacher." Yeah, going to instruct her in a lot of things, aren't ya? I thought to myself. I rolled my eyes to myself and said, "I'm Mr. Sexton."