I was 25 years old when I arrived in town. Moving halfway across the country was a big step for me, but I was young and single, so I had the flexibility to do it. On top of that, I grew up a pastor's kid, so moving around and adjusting to new people wasn't that big of a deal. I was following in my dad's footsteps, having moved here to become a youth pastor at a small church.
As for me, I'm John. I stand 5'9" and I'm a few pounds overweight, though not obese. I have brown hair and green eyes, and I keep a beard neatly trimmed. Overall, I'm fairly average looking, I suppose, but at the time, I was pretty inexperienced, sexually. Being a goody-two-shoes pastor's kid, I had only kissed a few girls, and had never gotten further than 2nd base with my college girlfriend, though I had seen my fair share of porn.
Upon completing my move, I didn't really know anyone, so I threw myself into my work. Going to my students' sporting events, choir concerts, and whatever else they were involved in that was open to the public was and still is my most common form of entertainment, but don't take that as a complaint. I love my job and my students.
One of the first students I met upon my arrival was Megan. She was in the fall of her sophomore year in high school and just shy of her 16th birthday when I arrived. Straight A student, 3-year captain of the school lacrosse team, plays guitar and piano, sings in the school choir and did I mention gorgeous?
Her dirty blonde hair goes down past her shoulders when she lets it out (which rarely happens, due to the fact that she always seems to be coming from or going to a lacrosse game or practice), and she has beautiful brown eyes, cute little nose, and thin pink lips.
She stands about 5'6" and has the body of an athlete. Long, tan, muscular legs (accented by the running shorts that were her preferred attire) and a flat stomach, cultivated from years of running up and down the lacrosse field, with what I was pretty sure were small, pert breasts usually hidden behind a sports bra and a loose-fitting t-shirt.
Being a musician myself, Meg and I developed an immediate rapport, and she quickly became one of my favorite students. We often worked together on church events, and I went to enough of her lacrosse games that I came to know her whole team by name, and many of them knew me as well. I even gave her a few piano lessons.
Two years later, as she neared graduation, she seemed interested in going into the ministry herself, so I offered Megan a summer internship at the church, which she happily accepted. We spent a pleasant summer working together and getting to know each other. We often talked about her dreams for the future, her fears about going off to college, and life in general.
On the last day of her internship, she and I happened to be the last two people in the office. As we finished up our work for the day and packed up, we were (as usual) talking about her pending move to school, and the topic turned to our romantic lives.
"You gonna have a girlfriend by the time I come back to visit?" she playfully joked, a teasing gleam in her eye.
"Probably not, " I half-joked, a hint of wistfulness in my voice, despite my efforts to hide it. I turned the tables on her. "What about you? You haven't had a boyfriend in a year, and I know you get hit on regularly."
"What makes you say that?" she responded, a look of innocence and genuine curiosity on her face.
"Have you seen you? You're beautiful, smart, friendly, talented..." My face reddened slightly as my complement trailed off. I had never spoken so forwardly to her before, despite being well aware of her charms, both physical and otherwise.
There was an awkward silence before her response came back softly. "You really think that?" She sat down in one of the chairs facing my old wooden desk, thinking my statement over.
"Think what?"
"That I'm beautiful."
"Of course, I do." I was incredulous. Did she really not know how attractive she was? I mean, I had never really thought about doing anything her, with the difference of nearly a decade between our ages, but I had assumed she was aware just how beautiful she was.
I stood, leaning back on my desk, while trying unsuccessfully to figure out what was going on in her pretty head. Meanwhile, the tension in the room had gone from non-existent to thick as molasses, and it had happened way faster than I was prepared for.
If I was being honest with myself, I wasn't even sure what I wanted to happen next.
"You have a crush on me!" she blurted out. I could hear in her voice and see on her face that it wasn't so much an accusation as a realization.
I began to verbally backpedal, my teaching instincts kicking in. "No, not a crush, per say. I mean... you are incredibly attractive... But no, of course I don't have a crush on you."
Megan slowly stood up and took a step closer to me. As she closed the gap between us, she softly said, "That's ok, John. In fact, while we're being honest, I've had a crush on you for a while now, too." I stood there, stunned into immobility as she kissed me, lightly, on the lips. The feel of her small lips on mine, her body a shadow pressing against me, left me speechless.
"Umm..." I dumbly responded after the kiss ended. Even though I couldn't articulate a coherent thought, I was aware somewhere in the back of mind that she hadn't taken a step back, even after breaking the kiss.
She giggled in the cutest way. "What?" she inquired.
"What was that?" I finally managed to get out a full sentence.
"Well, you have a crush on me, and I have a crush on you, so I figured that was the logical next step. Didn't you like it?"
"Absolutely I did. It's just... you're my student, and..."
She cut me off with another kiss, this time with a little more enthusiasm, before I could finish my thought. Instinctively, I began to kiss back, though my brain was still arguing with itself about whether this was right or wrong. The metaphorical devil and angel on each shoulder were having a knockdown, drag out, and at that particular moment, I couldn't tell who was going to win.
As the kiss broke, she began to speak. "Technically, I'm not your student any more. You're a youth pastor, and I'm out of high school. AND I'm just a few months shy of 19, so I'm an adult by all standards, wouldn't you agree?"
She made a compelling argument, and the devil on one shoulder started beating the crap out of that self-righteous angel on the other.
My response was to initiate a kiss of my own. This kiss was longer, deeper. My hands drifted to her hips and I drew her in to me as her arms wrapped around my neck. Taking the lead, I gently probed her lips with my tongue. She responded by opening her lips up and meeting my tongue with her own, all the while wrapping her arms tighter around my neck.
As I stood in my church office, making out with one of my (now former, I guess) students, I struggled to wrap my mind around what was happening. After what felt like hours (though it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes), I decided to just go with it and see where we ended up.
I allowed my hands to slide down from her hips to her butt, waiting for a reaction. When there was none, I gently squeezed her.
Oh, it was glorious! Far better than I could have imagined. I squeezed and rubbed her butt as she began to moan into my mouth. I broke our kiss and looked into the warm brown depths of her eyes.
"That ok?" Her gentle nod gave me all the encouragement I needed to keep going. As I kneaded her butt and we continued to kiss, her arms slipped down from around my neck. Her hands slid down my shoulders and rested on my chest, bumping my nipples and sending a shockwave through my body, which did not go unnoticed on her end.
She began to gently rub my nipples through my shirt, occasionally pinching them gently between her fingers. Meanwhile, she began to grind herself into me, following the rhythm of my hands on her rounded posterior.
After a few minutes of this, I felt her left hand slowly begin to work its way from my chest down over my stomach and towards my belt line. I nearly came as she began to rub my long-since fully erect cock through my jeans. Even at the age of 28, no one else had ever touched me like that.
She looked me in the eye and softly whispered, "Can I see it?"
I nodded, and that was all the encouragement she needed. We passed the point of no return as she began to undo my belt buckle, followed by the button and zipper on my jeans. Up to this point, if we had heard keys in the main door of the office, we might have been able to extricate ourselves from each other with some sense of believability. But as she pulled both my shorts and my boxers down with one swift tug, leaving me wearing nothing but a t-shirt, I knew that there was no way we would be able to hide our activities, should any unexpected visitors show up.
My 6-inch cock sprang to life in front of her, harder than it had ever been. I silently thanked God that I was her first as she gasped audibly at the sight.
She wrapped her hand around the throbbing tool and gave me a clumsy tug. Reflexively, I jerked back at the unexpectedly rough handling.