Hillary blushed. "You know what I mean," she said.
We got out of bed, managed to take a shower together without it descending into another love-making episode, and got dressed. I insisted that Hillary eat breakfast before she left to go home and get changed for school, although she did complain she never ate breakfast.
"It's the most important meal of the day," I told her.
"You sound like my mother," she complained.
"Your mother's right," I countered.
"Yeah, sure."
She did eat some cereal and fruit, though, and had a glass of milk before she left. I walked her to the door and she gave me a fond kiss. "See you in school," she said, then she turned and headed out to her car.
"See you in school." Her words caused me more than a little discomfort. How was I going to manage being in the same room with her without my feelings for her being obvious? Could I be that good an actor? It appeared that I would have to be.
Hillary was the last of my students to arrive, although she was on time. She had on a red sleeveless sweater that buttoned down the front, had frilly accents the same color of the sweater, and stretched wonderfully over her breasts. She also had on a pair of black slacks that looked very soft and weren't as snug as the ones she often wore. When she first walked into the classroom I found it a hard to keep myself from visualizing what was under those garments.
I managed to refocus myself and, by not looking at Hillary any more than I had to, got a discussion going with the three young men who were in the class with her. Unlike Hillary, who was in the makeup class because she chose not to use her intelligence, the three boys were there because they really had a difficult time understanding things. In an attempt to enhance their interest, I was having them read western stories written by Louis L'Amour. So far, it seemed to be working - at least for the boys. We opened class with discussions of reading assignments from the previous class every day. Up to now it was clear from their level of participation that the boys had been reading the stories I assigned. Hillary, on the other hand, had previously given little evidence of having any knowledge of - or interest in - the reading assignments.
Just moments after our discussion about the most recent story - about a man abandoned in the desert without water or food by a vindictive rancher - started, Hillary made it clear she not only had read the story, she enjoyed it. This seemed to surprise the boys in the class, who'd gotten used to conducting the discussion with me while she sat there looking bored.
When Hillary joined the discussion, her three classmates were so surprised they said little for a few minutes, but they finally got over their surprise and the class wound up being one of the most enjoyable I'd had during the summer session. The class time went by quickly and, before any of us knew it, end of class arrived.
I assigned the first five chapters of the book Conagher for their next assignment. "It has the usual L'Amour strong male protagonist," I noted. "But it also has a very strong female protagonist as well. When you're reading it, try to imagine what it was like for a woman in those days."
The four of them stood up and began leaving the room. Hillary made it a point to be the last one out. After the boys were out of sight, she turned, smiled, and winked at me. "See you later," she mouthed, then she was gone. For the first time since she'd walked into my classroom, I relaxed. Well, sort of.
My afternoon class, in European History, dragged. I was beginning to think the school clocks had broken and I'd be stuck there forever. When, the class was finally over, I hurriedly packed up my stuff, went out to my car, and headed for the grocery store. I was pretty much out of food at home and needed to restock, even if it meant I'd have to wait a bit longer before I saw Hillary.
I moved up and down the aisles of the grocery store, picking up items I needed and the fact that I was doing something I'd done many times before with my wife and daughter seemed to turn my thoughts away to what I'd be doing to what I'd done. When I considered the fact that I was actively violating my marriage vows and the ethics of the teaching profession by having sex with a student, I felt extremely uncomfortable and ashamed. The weekend, when I had to go to the seacoast to spend time with my family, wasn't that far away. I hadn't really given a lot of thought to how I'd face my wife and daughter, mainly because doing so caused me to feel a lot of guilt and shame.
Then there was the issue of making love with my wife. As I've said, she and I have a very active sex life. Would I be able to make love with her? If I could, would she know I'd made love with someone else? What if we tried to make love and I wasn't able to? This whole guilt and anxiety ridden line of thinking, which I couldn't ignore, had me pretty down in the dumps by the time I got to the checkout.
"You look miserable," commented the woman at the checkout. Her name was Naomi Smithers and we knew each other because during the school year she was employed as a teacher's aide at the Middle School. She also knew my wife and daughter were away for the summer. "Being a bachelor isn't all it's cracked up to be, is it?"
"I'm surviving, I guess," I replied. I dug my debit card out of my wallet and swiped it through the car reader on the counter.
"I understand you're first choice to replace Brillstein," she continued.
"That's what I understand," I replied, punching the keys necessary to make the electronic fund transfer necessary to settle my bill.
"I'm glad he's going to be out of there," she continued as she bagged my groceries. "I think it will be a much happier and brighter place."
I placed the bags of groceries in the cart as she filled them. "I hope so," I said. "See you later," I noted when all of my purchase was in the cart.
"Take care," she replied, turned, and began checking out the next customer.
As I pushed the cart with the groceries in it out to my car it occurred to me that Naomi had treated me just as she always did when we saw each other in school. She'd misunderstood why I was looking down in the dumps, too. Apparently there was no outward evidence of my transgressions, even if it felt as though there was.
I loaded the groceries in the trunk of my car, put the shopping cart in the cart corral, then got in the car and headed home. As I got nearer and nearer to my house I noticed that the feelings of recrimination I was having were beginning to fade, their place taken by rapidly growing feelings of anticipation.
My heart was pounding and I could feel my penis begin to stiffen when I turned into my driveway. However, all of my anticipation disappeared when I drove around to the back of my house and Hillary's car wasn't there. In milliseconds I went from feelings of near-elation to something akin to despair. Where was she? Had she finally come to her senses and decided to go back to her summer activities with her friends? Had her boyfriend returned from wherever he'd been? I knew there was probably a rational, reasonable explanation, but none came to me. My emotions were all over the map as I got the groceries out of the car and lugged them into the house. I knew I was acting like a petulant teenager having a temper tantrum as I slammed things around, but I couldn't stop myself. What was wrong with me?
All of the groceries were away and I was folding the bags to put in the storage closet when I heard a car race up my driveway and stop behind my house. I went through another almost instantaneous mood change, back to anticipation, and stood there in the kitchen of my home, waiting, hoping fervently that Hillary would soon come through the door.
And she did. She was still wearing the outfit she had on in class, and she was carrying a sheaf of papers and a small backpack. She was a little out of breath and her face was flushed. I thought it made her look even prettier. "I...I'm sorry I was so late," she gasped. "I...um...I worked on my assignment, then I got started reading that book you want us to read and..." she stopped and looked at me carefully. "I had to pack some stuff, too. You aren't upset because I'm late, are you?"
"Of course not," I lied. "I had to stop and get some groceries anyhow. I just finished putting them away."
"OK," she said. "I was hoping you wouldn't be pissed at me." She set her backpack down and laid the sheaf of papers on the kitchen table.
"There is no way I could be," I replied. I took a step toward her, held my arms out, and she stepped into them. She slid her arms around my waist and I slid mine around hers, then I bent my head, pressed my lips against her warm soft ones. All the fear and anxiety I'd been feeling was swept out of me by a rush of delight. After a few seconds we both opened our mouths and our tongues began lashing. Wonderful feelings surged through my body. I was all right now, I was going to have my Hillary fix.
I've always loved kissing, but there seemed to be something special about kissing Hillary. I didn't want to stop once I started, nor did it seem as if she did. I slid my hands down and cupped her firm young bottom through the soft fabric of her slacks. I felt her hands move, then she slid them between us and began unbuttoning my shirt. When she had the shirt open, she began working on my belt, then the clasp at the waist of my pants. Soon my slacks hung open, too. Seconds later I felt my them slide down.
"Mmmmmnnn!" I groaned into Hillary's mouth when she pulled down my underpants and her warm hand wrapped around my erect penis. I was surprised and aroused by the fact that she was being so aggressive. I was totally stunned by what she did next. One second she was kissing me and stroking my erection with her hand, then she was no longer kissing me and had disappeared from my view. Between her kisses and what she was doing to my erection with her hand, I was in a bit of a delightful fog, so I wasn't able to focus right away.
"Unnnnahhh!" I moaned when warmth and wetness surrounded my erect penis. Hillary had apparently dropped to her knees and taken me in her mouth. While she caressed my pulsing erection with her lips and tongue, her hands stole lightly over my buttocks and thighs and she even managed to tickle my testicles. It is impossible to find words to describe how wonderful it felt. My legs went wobbly and I could feel myself trembling. Hillary's lips and tongue continued to torture me, as did her fingers. She seemed to have mastered the light touch I loved using on her.
After suckling me for a little while, she let me slide out of her mouth and began licking my erection, caressing it with her tongue, actually. And at the same time she had her fingers wrapped around it and was sliding her hand up and down. Her other hand was wandering over my bottom and legs with a very light, teasing touch. Each time she'd hit a particularly sensitive spot, I'd shudder and groan. I didn't have any choice, it felt way too good. And, even though she quickly had my mind fogged over with lust, I realized there was a pattern to what she was doing. Once she discovered spots that evoked a particularly fervent reaction from me, she visited them over and over, but between those fantastic visits she gave me time to settle down. In fact, she was teasing me the way I had teased her when I was eating her. That realization sent an added rush of delight through me.
I knew I'd fall down if things kept going the way they were, and it sure didn't look as if she had any intention of stopping. Carefully I backed up and sank onto the arm of the overstuffed chair right behind me. Hillary shuffled along with me on her knees, never losing contact, never ceasing the actions that were causing me overwhelming rushes of incredible sensations.
After she'd teased me to the point where I was no longer coherent, she took my erection back in her mouth and began moving her head up and down, literally fucking me with her mouth. I could feel my insides tightening, knew I wouldn't be able to keep from exploding for much longer, and felt I should warn my lovely young companion. "Oh...God...Ahhhhhh!...Hillary...I...I'm...I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum if...if you don't...don't stop!" I managed to croak through nearly unbearable explosions of delight.
Hillary didn't stop. In fact her actions became more fervent. Her hands clasped my buttocks and squeezed them and her tongue continued to lash against my erect penis while her head moved up and down even more rapidly. What little self-control vanished instants later and I let loose a frantic groan when I felt my effluent surging up through my pulsing erection, and gushing into her mouth.
I was sure she'd spit me out the minute I started coming and was shocked when that didn't happen. Instead, she kept me in her mouth and may have been moaning while I erupted. I was experiencing so much ecstasy I couldn't focus enough to hear, but I could feel vibrations on my penis that could have come from her moans. And she appeared to be swallowing the juices I pumped into her. Even after I'd stopped coming she kept licking and sucking on me, continuing to nurse me gently while my penis started to soften and shrink. That caused me such exquisite pleasure it bordered on pain.
At last she let my now-soft penis slide from her mouth and sat back on her heels, looking up at me. Her lips were red and wet looking, her eyes were filled with questions. "You...you aren't...you know...mad at me for...you know...doing that, are you?" she asked hesitantly.
I slid off the chair onto my knees, facing her, and pulled her into my arms. She buried her face against my chest. "Mad at you?" I replied. "How in the world could I be angry with someone who did something so wonderful for me?"
