Pam Robinson - lady in the streets but a freak in the bed, prim and proper 3rd grade teacher, a true 50 year old former MILF evolving into a Cougar has ensnared a 23 year-old African-American student teacher from the local community college in a quid pro quo. She's helping his career while he repays her Cougar mentality with his submission happening just as Mr. Robinson (John) gets a promotion that takes him away from the house and away from his hyper sexual wife.
She has just seduced Tyresse though dominance, having rode his cock after a late night of work, now summoning him back to her house on a Saturday for more.
Read Chapter one & two to get the background and how we have arrived in this moment.
He had gotten the text at 9 a.m. commanding him to 'come over to finish your units by 10 a.m.' Grumbling while he drove, he didn't get a lot of sleep and he was planning on working out that morning.
"Good morning Tyresse." said Pam Robinson, Tyresse's supervising teacher in 3rd grade at Washington Elementary, opening the door to her house. "You did a fine job finishing Unit one last night. We'll get a lot done on Unit two and I'll review your performance so far overall. I get to submit first 1/4 grades tomorrow."
It was Saturday morning and the young African-American man was walking into the home of 50 year-old mother of four graduated children, happily married to John for nearly 30 years, award winning teacher.
Mrs. Robinson sounded professional, her fit 5'6" frame in yoga pants, a tank top and sweatshirt, hair pulled up into a high bun.
"Shall we get to work...you remember..."
"Work first, play second..." Tyresse said, a mantra from the seven habits of high effective people. "First things first in other words."
"Excellent," Mrs. Robinson said, her hand on the small of his back leading him to the dinning room table.
"I've baked some muffins..." She said, then gestured to the space. "Spread your things out here and we'll start with Math..."
Yesterday they started during school, worked after school then finished Unit one at her house. He was set to teach that week and like she mentioned, his performance grades for the first quarter were due.
"No thank you on the muffins," Tyresse said and he sat down to work, she went to do some yoga.
"Let me know when you get a lesson done and I'll go through them," Mrs. Robinson said and then went into the living room where she had a lap top open, yoga mat spread out.
She went over, started the session, her ear buds were in, lost the sweatshirt, her tank and sports bra tight to her body. Tyresse turned his chair away from her, and focused on his work.
She would grunt or sigh, getting his attention, her form good and him seeing her in various positions, after the night before, began to be distracting. He put his own headphones in, though his mind had already be tethered to her movements. She finished, came over and was disappointed with his progress.
"You don't think they'll be distractions day to day Tyresse?" close to his face, still professional, though the light scolding felt familiar, almost expecting a slap after receiving last night's discipline.
She backed off, fixed some tea and walked out onto the deck, letting him finish lesson one, then two...she reading them as soon as he got them to her.
"Three more?" He asked, it was nearly noon and he was getting hungry.
"We are ahead, let's take a break," She said walking to the bar.
"Whiskey and Coke?"
"Oh, no...not this early..."
"Suite yourself," she said and poured her G&T. He did finish a third lesson before her drink started to settle in and she walked down the long hall to her bedroom.
"Shit..." Tyresse said, knowing what happened last night after she walked down that hallway. Several minutes passed and she hadn't come out, he went back to work, ignoring the break and his hunger pangs, or what she might be doing in the other room. He had expected 'Mistress Robinson' to appear, demanding things, alluding to his 'performance' as if the sexual meant as much as the work he was doing in the classroom.
He remembered the words - "Quid pro quo".
A good hour passed, he worked util 1 p.m. before order door dash on his app, figuring a salad for Mrs. Robinson, getting pasta for himself from a local Italian place. It arrived at 1:30 p.m., he was down to one lesson to write, though she hadn't reviewed the two latest.
