Conflicted

Chapter 7: She Teaches Him a Lesson

Leslie's left hand delicately caressed her teenage boyfriend's hair. He was on his back and she, lying on her side, was tucked in as close as possible to his right. The fingers of her right hand and his left were entwined together, gently resting on his abs, rising and falling with each relaxed breath. His right arm embraced her tightly, pulling her chest close to him, unbothered by the thick viscous layer of white love juices that coated her cleavage and was now rubbing off onto his ribcage.

Leslie snuggled closer to Stuart and began kissing him as soon as he looked round to her. The kisses were soft but their lips didn't break contact for ten full minutes. As they kissed, Stuart's cock began to come to life again and Leslie let go of Stuart's hand to move over his semi-erection, stroking it barely enough to keep it hard.

Stuart let out a groan, breaking their kiss, and spoke to his middle-aged girlfriend, "Oh... babe... I needed this, really felt pent up... I missed you."

She pecked him on the lips, "I missed you, too."

It had been a week and half since they were nearly caught in Leslie's house. Leslie was naturally very cautious after that and today was the first opportunity they had to meet up. Malcolm was up north for a two day conference and Stuart's mum was out with friends for dinner, so the Warren household was empty. So long as she wasn't away too long, Lewis and Katie were unlikely to be suspicious; as teenagers they were unlikely to notice their mum had even left the house.

She started jerking his now rigid cock a little faster, "But why so pent up baby? Didn't you have any... alone time? I touched myself each night, thinking about my sexy... handsome... strong... Bully Boy."

"Nah, it wasn't that. I mean I batted off to you, like, five times a day since then," he replied. Leslie rolled her eyes at the bluntness of 'batted off', before giving him a brief kiss on the lips.

"What's wrong then?" she asked, wondering if she already knew what, or rather who, this was going to be about.

"Since you came and talked to Mrs Bollock-buster, the dickhead has been acting up and thinking he owns the place?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well me and my mates have our little corner of the common room and, course, the dickhead isn't allowed there."

Listening intently, Leslie forgot to keep stroking Stuart's hard-on. He paused for a second to wrap his hand around hers and started pumping again.

"Oh, sorry baby," she said quickly, before leaning in for a proper kiss.

"Yeah, so normally I'd tell him to shove off, or actually just shove him, but guess who walks in to the common room when I'm squaring up to the little shit?"

"Who baby?" asked Leslie, as she straddled Stuart. The calmer pace of their love-making today meant she wasn't as fired up as she usually was when Stuart talked about how he picked on her son. Though she had compartmentalised that side of herself enough now to remain at least neutral, she felt this story would become easier to listen to if she had him inside of her.

"Bollock-buster! She comes in and looks at me and Lewis and says 'better be getting on you two' and then gives the dickhead a little smile," he paused as Leslie started bucking her hips, "Oh god, that's good babe.

"But as I was saying, the little prick just sat down on what'd normally be Pete's chair. I mean, what the fuck?"

"OK, um," panted Leslie, trying to concentrate, as she settled into a rhythm, "What did you do?"

"Well I wanted to fucking throw him across the room but I coulda hardly done that after a visit from Bullock... so just told him he had bird crap in his hair," he paused to laugh, "He didn't but it was funny to watch him squirm around. Then the bell went anyways."

"You could have asked him to move?"

"Ask him?" he retorted, as if Leslie had slapped him, before he put on a high pitched, girly voice, "Oooo Lewis, please ever so kindly move..."

He shook his head and then continued in a normal voice, "The dickhead knew that was Pete's seat, he knew we didn't want him there, but he sat there to show us he's a big boy now."

Leslie, as Lewis's mother; naked, sweaty, covered in cum, riding the boy who bullied her son, but still Lewis's mother, felt like she had achieved what she had wanted to originally when she went to see the school principle. She was happy that her son was more comfortable at school but there was definitely an undoubtedly strong feeling of sympathy for Stuart.

She felt like she had stolen something away from him, removed him of some of his authority. She felt conflicted again, for the first time in many days. She massaged his pectorals, whilst firmly thrusting her hips back and forth, making sure not to make eye contact with Stuart.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do now that I'm on that bitch principal's leash?"

She wanted to say that maybe it was for the best, and he'd avoid getting himself in trouble now, if he had to stop picking on Lewis. But she knew that he didn't care about that. He felt like he'd lost control and it was her fault...

She thrust herself faster, hoping to make him cum and make him feel good. She leant down and kissed him, hoping he'd realise she hadn't meant to make him feel worse.

"Well you put that open toothpaste in his bag," she said, recalling an incident from the previous Friday; she didn't know it was Stuart, but she was pretty sure, "Lewis had to redo some work that got messed up and he had to spend ages cleaning is textbooks."

Mother Leslie had taken a break; she and her tiresome guilt had retreated to some part of her mind that she couldn't even hear anymore. She wanted him to feel good about something bad he had done to her son.

She begged, "Baby, that was such a good prank..."

"Prank? FUCKING PRANK," shouted Stuart. He firmly grabbed Leslie at the waist and swung them both to the edge of the bed. With no effort that she could discern, he stood them both up as Leslie wrapped her legs round his thighs. He planted her down on his desk, using her bum to displace all the clutter that littered it, and then lifted her legs up onto his shoulders, so roughly that Leslie bumped her head on the wall behind.

Grabbing her hips, he threw his whole body behind his hips and crashed into her body with a swing of his pelvis. Knocking her head again, Leslie just managed to reach for a pillow from the bed, but not before another thrust caused her to knock her head again.

"So I'm reduced to pranking the dickhead am I? What's next? Fucking whoopee cushions?"

Leslie could barely speak with Stuart pounding her as hard and as fast as he was, but she still managed to pant out some words, "I didn't get to tell you, but Lewis broke that chair again the next day, the one we fucked on! His dad shouted at him for swinging on it, thinking that's what broke it, you'd have loved it."

No response.

"I forgot to wash the cup," she pleaded; it was true but she had felt very ashamed of this and hadn't wanted to tell him at first, "and the bedsheets, I didn't get to wash them until Monday. Think of the mess we left him."

It felt like he was thrusting even harder, if that was possible, but he did speak this time, "That's the not point. I can't shove it in his face. I know I'm winning, I know that I'm better, but he doesn't know that."

Leslie didn't know what to say in response, but even if she did, she was about to cum so hard she didn't think she'd have any breath left for words. Each loud squeal was in time to the 'thud, thud, thud' of the desk hitting the wall. She felt a sharp spasm across her body and copious amounts of female juice spraying from her pussy as her arms and torso jerked out of control; her legs were held firm by an unrelenting Stuart.

He didn't stop, her over sensitive body tingling each time he rammed her. Her body had barely recovered from the first orgasm but she felt a second one brewing. Stuart, however, was beginning to flag. She didn't want him to slow down, so she thought something that Mother Leslie would never have dared do.

"The toothpaste," she gasped, "Lewis didn't know it was you but he was going to tell Mrs Bullock it was. He said even if it wasn't you probably should get what you deserve."

That last bit was a lie. In fact, it was Malcolm that suggested Lewis go to the principal. She just didn't want Stuart to stop being so angry.

"I stopped him," she panted desperately, "what a dickhead... what a..."

She was going to say cunt but her second climax stole the last of her voice. Pleasurable agony took hold of her for another twenty seconds; she barely noticed Stuart's own climax and she barely noticed him carry her to the bed, until he lay her down next to him.

They both lay there sticky and panting for breath. The moment Leslie could muster the energy, she rolled herself towards his side and they resumed their earlier embrace.

"Sorry for getting so worked up," sighed Stuart.

"Don't ever apologise for what you just did there," said Leslie, each word coming out through deep breaths, "I would pay a million pounds for that feeling."

"Magic cock, remember..."

She exhaled a small laugh and kissed him.

"Why so angry about him sitting near you just once? He's not worth your time..."

She whispered the last bit, feeling guilty that maybe she actually meant that statement.

"Yet he's gonna get As coming out his ass at the end of the year and I'm gonna be shooting terrorists in the desert."

"You're scared about exams?"

"No! I mean... fine, yes," he looked at the ceiling and sighed, "I'm predicted to fail History and Economics and at best they think I'll get a C in English."

She leant over his body and kissed him, deeply this time, rubbing his chest with her hands and his legs with hers.

"I promise you that you'll pass every subject"

"Yeah, sure, and how's that?" questioned her teenage boyfriend, pessimism woven into each word.

"Because I'm going to tutor you."

***

Leslie and Stuart arranged their first tutoring session for the day after she suggested the idea to him. There was just over two weeks to the exams; the History was on the 5th of December, followed by Economics on the 8th and the final one, English, on the 9th. Though it sounded like a daunting task, the exams only covered work done in the first term of school. That wasn't enough time to be thorough, but for most of her twenties, Leslie had done tutoring on the side, to earn a little cash, and she had become very good at it. They would, however, need to meet daily.

Having done English as a degree, she was most able to help Stuart with that. Working at a bank, though not in a financial role, she had picked up enough knowledge to understand the subject of Economics to tutor at a school-level. History was going to be trickier; she had taken that at school, but that was almost 30 years ago. Lewis was taking Economics and History, so she photocopied his notes, as well as buying copies of the prescribed reading on the subject. She laughed to herself about the absurdity of hiding school textbooks in her house, so she could keep her affair with a teenager secret.

At first, it seemed the most logical place for their sessions to take place would have been one of their homes. Obviously Leslie's house was ruled out straight away, so they thought about doing it at Stuart's. Quickly though, they spotted a couple of problems with this; tutoring at Stuart's house involved meeting Colleen, Stuart's mum, and pretending to be a hired tutor. Neither Stuart nor Leslie had been most comfortable with lying to Colleen. Also, to sell the ruse completely, Leslie would have to charge a tuition fee. With costs for Stuart's brother's care increasing, Colleen was unlikely to be able to afford the fee, not that Leslie wanted to take money from her, even if she could pay for it.

Leslie had a solution. Her office had plenty of meeting rooms; as part of a drive to improve the 'office working environment', employees could book them out for personal or social activities, provided it didn't interfere with business reasons and it was after 5:30pm. There wasn't a specific policy on weekends; it wasn't expected for people to be in on Saturdays or Sundays, especially with the home-working facilities offered, but she hadn't been explicitly prohibited from using the meeting rooms on the weekend.

"Leslie," groaned Stuart, his head on the table, "I don't know, one of them is land and another enterprise?"

They had been working for an hour and 45 minutes and Leslie could see Stuart was tiring, but she was determined to not let him give up.

"There's two more, baby..."

"I don't know!" he sniped, "Labour and capital?"

"Yes! That's it!" she exclaimed and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Her eye's quickly darted to the meeting room's door, which had a small window looking into the room. She had locked the door and sat in a place where they couldn't be seen from the corridor because she knew they wouldn't be able to go two hours without showing obvious affection towards each other. However, it didn't mean she didn't feel slightly on edge whenever they did act coupley.

"Oh, well that's good then," he said, sounding sceptical that he could actually be right.

Stuart had been reticent to give her answers; he kept telling her wasn't sure about things but, when pressed, he was often quite knowledgeable on his subjects. She just needed to tease the answers out of him.

"Two more questions, then we can wrap up for the day," she said as she kicked off her shoes. She reached up under her skirt and pulled down her sheer skin-coloured tights and her pink thong. She didn't normally wear sexy pink underwear to work but she assumed being around Stuart it would be exposed at some point. She dropped the removed items on the table, put her shoes back on and looked at his curious expression.

"So, two questions; you get one right, I take my top off; you get the next one right, I take my bra off."

"Skirt?"

"I'm not planting my naked ass on a meeting room chair, that's gross."

"I suppose boobs will have to do," he said with a smirk.

She laughed, before turning serious and asking the first question, "What are the benefits of specialisation and division of labour?"

He launched into a recitation of the textbook answer, but she was pleased to hear some of his own paraphrasing, showing he really did understand what he was saying. She listened for key phrases, like 'efficiency of work' and 'increasing productivity'. He even drew an average cost curve diagram. Her promised treat was working; he was quick and confident, showing the self he did in bed, not the nervous school boy scared of flunking his exams.

As soon as he was done, however, he looked at her, the confidence on hold, replaced with an expression that asked her for her approval of the answer he had just given her. She wondered if this is how she looked to him when she pranced around half naked for him or begged him for sex. She didn't mind his show of weakness. Everyone had things that made them vulnerable; in fact it made her appreciate him more. She seemed to be the thing that gave him strength; she helped turn him from a boy into a man.

She wanted to throw her clothes off now, take him inside of her and tell him that she wanted scream and cum riding him all day. She wanted him to know she was his slut. Right now, however, she needed to control herself, gently build up that confidence, so that he would still have it when he was in that exam hall, when she wouldn't be there to cheerlead him. Her eyes darted to the meeting room door and satiated her paranoia. She bit her lip and slowly pulled her top over her head, allowing the silk to flow across her skin. She stuck her chest out a little further, presenting the pink push-up bra to her tutee, before asking him the next question.

Again, he answered her correctly. It wasn't a perfect answer; this was a tricky question, but she felt it was close enough to get him a decent mark, if it was a real exam.

She leant forward, close to his ear, and whispered, "Unhook my bra..."

She kissed him as he fumbled with the strap, leaning back only when she felt it completely come undone. She looked over at the door again and then let the bra fall forward, exposing her breasts to him.

"Well done, you clever boy," she said, the right side of her mouth curling up to make a dirty smirk. She slowly parted her knees, lifting the loose material of her skirt up to her mid-thigh, and continued, "How about we try one more question?"

Stuart nodded, his eyes moving between her breasts and her open legs.

"Right," she said, abruptly snapping her legs together, her tone akin to an enthusiastic teacher, rather than a half-naked adulteress, "What characteristics make-up 'public goods' and how does this differ from 'private goods'?"

She had to prompt him for a part of the question, but again, it was a satisfactory answer. She excitedly kissed Stuart, every bit as happy as he was that he answered correctly. She undid his trousers and pulled them down to his knees, before pulling his hard on out from the fly of his boxers. She hoicked up her skirt and positioned him at the entrance to her tunnel. It took a little more effort to slide him in as she wasn't that wet; Economics revision in her office wasn't exactly the most arousing scenario, but they got there after a few seconds.

She gyrated her hips against his lap as fast she could go; she had been partly honest with her husband and told him she was tutoring someone. Malcolm believed that she was helping the child of one of her colleagues. He thought her colleague was asking a bit much of her and wasn't that happy about it so she wanted to get back as soon after 8 as possible, her aim to avoid an argument about them not getting to spend much time together in the evenings. She did think he was being unreasonable but, considering the student she was tutoring was their son's bully and she was sleeping with him, she let it go.

"Baby, tell me when you're close," she panted, "I want to swallow it all."

She didn't want to risk having his cum leak out onto the meeting room floor or chair. Stuart didn't question her; he sounded quite excited by the idea. When he told her he was ready, she knelt down between his legs and, aided by her own sex juices, took his dick into her mouth, almost all the way to the back of her throat. It only took a few strokes before warm, sour goo pooled at the back of her tongue. She sucked and swallowed it, careful not to let a single drop spill from her mouth.

"Well you slut, you've done it," Stuart scoffed at himself, "Never thought I'd say it but I'm looking forward to revising tomorrow."

She leant back on her heels and looked up at her boyfriend, giving him a look of glowing pride. She smiled to herself; she was sure that Stuart was completely oblivious to how much those words just meant to her.

***

It was the last Sunday before exams and, by good fortune, Stuart's mum was out of the house for a good portion of the day; the tutoring sessions when they had gone to Leslie's office on the weekend were inconvenient and she didn't like having to unlock the side entrance to get in.

To divert her husband's suspicions, she dressed much more conservative usual for a visit to Stuart's house, but the clothes lasted only until she had entered his room. In fact, ten minutes into tutoring and she was naked, except for a pair of pale pink heels, and some strategically placed sticky notes. She had two green notes on her right breast; one was numbered '3' and placed over her nipple; the other, which had been split in to two, was labelled '1' on one half and '2' on the other and both were just above the note over the nipple. The left breast had notes arranged similarly to her right one, but they were yellow instead. She had arranged five pink notes, numbered 1-5, such that '1' and '2' were just covering her crotch and the remaining three were like a skirt just above the other two.