Visiting Teacher

The events I'm going to tell you about happened ten years ago. I had recently turned eighteen and it's fair to say I was a bit of a geek. I was a gamer and studying hard to get to university. But experience of girls, not so much. Bit of a cliché I know, but it's true. I didn't cut a very imposing figure either: a skinny five foot ten with acne scars. I wasn't exactly a prize catch - something the girls at school seemed to have noticed, given the way they had all completely ignored me for the last two years.

It was a Tuesday and, with exams coming up, my English teacher, Mrs Winterton had promised to bring a particular book into school for me. She thought I'd find it useful for revision. But she'd forgotten to put it her bag that morning, and asked me to drop round to her house in the evening to pick it up.

Mrs Winterton gave me the address and I cycled over after I'd done my homework. The weather was mild and the traffic on the roads was pretty normal for a small English town. Nothing at all to suggest the experience I was soon to have.

She lived with her husband in a modern semi-detached house on a quiet cul-de-sac. It was around seven and just starting to get dark when I chained my bike to a lamppost, walked up her short garden path and rang the doorbell.

I thought I heard some loud whispers inside, then footsteps and a man cracked open the door.

"Yes?" he asked. Mr Winterton, I assumed. He was around forty, good looking with light brown hair and a neat beard. He wore jeans and a casual dark green T-shirt - nothing out of the ordinary.

"Uh," I stumbled. "Mrs Winterton asked me pick up a book." He stared at me. "I'm... Kevin. A student." I added, lamely.

For a moment I thought he was going to close the door on me, but then he broke into a wide smile.

"Hey Kevin, great to meet you. I'm Rob. Why don't you come in for a moment and I'll find that book for you." I thought I heard a squeal from somewhere inside the house as he opened the door wide.

I followed Mr Winterton - Rob - into the hallway. Then he led me through a doorway on the right into the kitchen, and there I saw a sight that still to this day is seared into my brain.

Mrs Winterton, an attractive woman in her mid-30s, was bent over the kitchen table, facing away from me. Her legs were spread shoulder-width apart, her knickers were pulled down around her knees and her skirt was lifted up over her waist. She was stretched tight over the table, holding onto the far side.

I stopped right there in my tracks, my mouth hanging open like an idiot in search of a village. Let me describe her. Mrs Winterton was wearing red shoes with high heels, maybe three or four inches. Her ankles were well-defined, leading to shapely calves: smooth, pale skin. Her thighs were firm, not skinny like a model but more muscular and curved. On the inside of one thigh she had a small bluebird tattoo. I suddenly realised I could see her pink pussy lips, peeking out between those glorious thighs, with a trimmed covering of pubic hair around them.

"I'm afraid your teacher needed to be disciplined this evening," Rob said. "You're welcome to stay here while I get that book, or you can wait outside if you prefer." He smiled at me. I was struck dumb. I stared, unable to force out a single word. I might have squeaked. I didn't move.

There was no time for me to say anything as at that moment Mrs Winterton seemed to realise I was there and jumped upright, hurriedly pulling her knickers up, and swung round to face me... and Rob.

"Kevin can't see me like that - I'm his teacher!" Her face reddened.

"Jennifer!" Rob snapped back with a voice that allowed no dissent. "You know the rules and you agreed to follow them. Who I invite in is no concern of yours. You know what happens if you fail to complete a punishment..."

Mrs Winterton looked aghast. I had no idea what was going to happen of course, but she clearly did. She stared at Rob, seemingly unable to believe the words she had just heard.

"Now." Rob said in a commanding voice. The fight seemed to drain away from her. Eyes dropped to the floor, Mrs Winterton could only mumble "Yes."

"What was that?" Rob said

"Yes... Sir", Mrs Winterton repeated, but louder and more firmly.

"Would you like a glass of water, Kevin?" It was my turn to stare - after the events of the previous minute such a banal question seemed utterly absurd, but I realised it meant I was being given permission to stay and asked whether I wanted to see what happened next. I finally managed to speak: "Yes please."

Meanwhile, Mrs Winterton shuffled around the kitchen, gaze firmly fixed on the tiled floor.

First she took a metal bar that had been leaning against a corner and walked over to a door in the far wall, perhaps leading to a storeroom. Looking again I saw it was a pull-up bar for keep-fit. She pushed the door wide open and, reaching up, fixed the bar near the top of the door frame, twisting one end to lock it in place.

Then she turned to face into the kitchen - and towards me. I had no idea what was going to happen next, but I knew I wasn't going to leave.

For a few seconds, Mrs Winterton did nothing. She looked down at the floor, shuffled her feet and finally took a deep breath. First, she kicked off her shoes. Then she reached her hands up and started unbuttoning her white cotton blouse, revealing her neck, then an impressive cleavage as the buttons were freed one by one. As the blouse fell open, her fingers fumbled with the button on her chest before she worked it out of the buttonhole.

Now I had the top of her smooth breasts in my eyeline. Taking another deep breath, she shrugged her shoulders and the blouse fell to the floor. Next she reached around to her backside and unzipped her blue, knee length skirt - the sort that might be worn in an office. Wriggling her hips, the skirt slipped over her thighs and fell to the floor. Mrs Winterton stood facing me in just her bra and knickers.

Then, right in front of my eyes, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra strap. Letting the strap fall, she ran her fingers under the shoulder straps and the bra fell down her arms and off her breasts. She seemed more self-assured now, or perhaps just resigned.

Either way, this was the first time I had seen a pair of bare breasts close up in real life and I couldn't look away. I remember thinking how dark her nipples looked against the pale flesh of the heavy breasts that surrounded them, the puckered areola set in the sea of the smoothness.

Finally, she tugged her knickers down and kicked them off. Then she stood upright, hands by her sides, completely naked apart from her shoes, eyes on the floor. Apart from avoiding looking me in the eye, she seemed to be standing to attention so I guessed it was part of whatever this was she was doing for Rob. I was utterly transfixed - I don't think anything on Earth could have persuaded me to shift my gaze at that moment.

"You may assume position three." Rob told her in a firm voice. I had no idea what position three was and, later on, I would spent many nights fondly imagining positions one and two, or even position four.

Mrs Winterton turned round and, as I gazed again at her gloriously perfect backside, she stepped back across to the doorway. Bending over so her breasts hung down, she took something out of a cloth bag. No - two things. Each was a black cuff attached to some sort of clip. As I gazed at her bent naked body, Mrs Winterton attached the first clip to a ring on the door frame, near the floor. Then she clipped the second one onto an identical ring on the other side. Finally, she wrapped a cuff around each ankle, so she was facing the kitchen - facing me - with her legs spread as wide as the door. Each cuff fastened with a Velcro crackle.

Then my teacher took a black blindfold out of the bag and put it around her head and over her eyes. Finally she reached up and held the bar with both hands.

Now I could see her breasts and between her legs, but she couldn't see me, couldn't see anything. Still, Mrs Winterton gripped the bar firmly.

I don't know how long I stood there, the glass of water untouched in front of me. Sometimes I think it was just a couple of minutes, on other days my memory makes it seem more like ten or fifteen. However long it was, the spell was broken when Rob spoke.

"Would you like to feel Jenny's body, Kevin?"

Obviously the answer was "yes", but I didn't seem to be able to say the word. I gulped and nodded.

"Come over here," he motioned to me. As I did, he started stroking his wife's breasts, running a finger over her nipples. Then he cupped his hand under them, lifting them up.

"Now you try."

Tentatively, I reached out, somehow worried that I might get an electric shock. But it was Mrs Winterton who gasped as my fingers touched her body - the first woman I had ever felt in my life. As I ran my fingers over her breasts, she breathed in short gasps that made her chest rise and fall.

"Feel her nipples," Rob suggested. I did as he said, running my hands across them, eliciting a small moan. They were rock hard and standing to attention.

"Make it a little rougher," said Rob. "Give them a pinch or a little slap." I did, first pinching the soft underside of her breasts, then landing a couple of stinging little slaps on the side, making them bounce and sway. Mrs Winterton cried out a little, but it didn't seem to be with any real pain. Her flesh reddened where I had slapped it, returning to its normal colour just a few seconds later.

"Now I want you to put your hand between her legs and feel her pussy."

It was my turn to gasp. Feeling her most private place - could I do that? As I stroked down her stomach, Mrs Winterton moaned again. I could see her arms straining as she fought with herself to keep hold of the bar. Her short, neat pubic hair ran through my fingers and then I felt the wetness of her pussy. I didn't know what to expect, and it was only months later when I had become more experienced that I realised how turned on she must have been: she was dripping. I rubbed my fingers along her lips and they were slick.

"Give them a little pinch, maybe a tug," Rob told me. I gripped one of her lips between my fingers and stretched it, and was rewarded with a cry of pleasure.

"Now I want you to slip a finger inside her." I didn't need to be asked twice. I felt between her sopping wet pussy lips, enjoying the sensation of them against my skin, until I found the hole I was looking for, and pushed a finger inside. Just a little way at first, then as far as it could go. Mrs Winterton's warm, wet pussy gripped my finger as I slipped it in and out.

"Add a second." I pushed in two fingers and felt her starting to grind against me, desperately pushing herself onto me. I pressed my fingers in harder, thrusting them in and then slamming them into her pussy as she continued pushing against me. Now she was crying out, turned on, frustrated, desperate for release. A release she wasn't going to get... yet.

"Take your fingers out now, please." Rob asked me. I did, and was rewarded with a moan of frustration.

"Now, Jennifer, you've left Kevin with quite an erection, and that's not very fair is it. I think you had better sort it out."

Breathing deeply to bring herself under control and clearly dealing with her own excitement, Mrs Winterton let go of the bar and, with her ankles still secured to the door frame, lowered herself down to her knees in front of me. She slipped off the blindfold and, looking up at me for permission, reached out to my trouser button. I gulped, and nodded.

Deftly, she undid my trousers and pulled them down to my thighs. My cock was straining inside my briefs and it sprung out as she carefully pulled them down too. Then she took me in her mouth, and it was the most incredible sensation of my life. First, she swirled her tongue around the head of my cock, along the shaft, then back to the head. Then, suddenly, my cock was in her mouth. Her lips were pressed around me, sucking me furiously, taking my entire length, bobbing her head as she ran her lips from tip to base and back again. I didn't last long. With my cock in her throat, Mrs Winterton ran her tongue around it. I grunted noisily and came, shooting my load. She swallowed hungrily, gulping down my cum. Then, holding my fading cock, she carefully licked it all over, gently squeezed out the last of my seed, and released me.

"Time to go, big man," said Rob. "Here's your book."

I fastened my trousers, took one last look at the naked woman kneeling in front of me, took the book and walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

Before I could open the front door, Rob put a hand on my shoulder.

"You know you can never tell anyone about this. No-one at all. She could lose her job if anyone found out, or worse." I nodded.

Hopefully, Mrs Winterton got the release she needed after I left, but I never found out. I saw her in school the next day, conservatively-dressed and acting as if nothing had happened. It was surreal, really. Maybe there was the occasional glance, the odd smile, I was never sure. And that was the last time I was invited to her house. I studied hard and got the exam results I needed.

I never did tell anyone. Even now, ten years on and writing all this down for the first time, I've changed the names. But I never forgot a single detail either, and I don't think I ever will.