What Happened with Mr. Sexton

Before I begin, you must know that I never intended on any of this, nor did I want it to quickly escalate the way it has. I'm not sure what has taken over me. Maybe my cock, or my passiveness, I'm not sure. I've always prided myself on my ability to control myself and now, I can no longer have bragging rights to that claim. None of this makes sense, just let me start from the very beginning...

I had moved to Pittsburgh just a year ago after deciding that it was the place to start my future. A very promising future I must add, for I had finished near the top of my class in college to major in music. I had myself a nice job lined up too. It was a very high place as assistant director to a high school's symphony. Yeah, that doesn't sound that prestigious, but the current director was old and would be biting the dust soon- hopefully. Don't be so appalled, it's a dog-eat-dog world, people. To be honest, though, I am not sure why they picked me for the job. I'm a skinny guy with the strength of a weasel and the nerdy appearance of Urkel. I figured they didn't see me as a threat; you hear of all those cases of teachers messing with students, and they figured I wouldn't cause trouble. Or so they thought...

Anyway, it's the first day of school. Most students were coming back from Florida from their summer vacations and still looked majorly hung over. The students had this envious bronze and brown complexion to their skin while I, on the other hand, had manage to stay a "Casper the Ghost" kind of white. I'm not afraid of the sun; it's just melanoma isn't something I take lightly. It's the silent killer.

God, sorry, I get so off topic. I have the attention span of a gnat. It's the first day of school, a beautiful Monday. I made my way soundly into the little office off of the band room. It held two desks; one vacant and the other had an old man that greatly resembled the stereotypical Santa Claus seated in it. He had one of those glorious white beards where you just want to touch it because it is so magnificent. He stood up out of his seat, in a bit of a struggle, and walked over to me with a genuine smile and soft eyes. "Good sir, you must be my lucky assistant," he declared, giving me a hearty handshake and a gap tooth smile.

Now, I felt like a dick because I was previously plotting my eulogy speech for the guy. I returned his handshake in the same firm manner he gave me and I replied nervously, "Well, I do hope this is the right place. I'm Matthew, er, Matthew Sexton."

He let out a loud laugh and said, "I like you already. I'm Gerome, Gerome Maxwell. Let me show you around the ole place." He put his arm around my shoulder roughly, causing me to become disfigured and uncomfortable. He showed me around the band room and the office, pointing out where things belonged and the daily routine of things. The whole conversation and exhibition lasted an hour because I couldn't move that fast because he waddled us around like a penguin. Don't get me wrong- the guy was the most kind person I'd met in over five years, but, damn, he could really lay off the donuts.

We finished the tour and I was about ready to unpack my stuff onto the neat little desk when he said, "Oh, I forgot to mention, as a part of being my assistant, you will be teaching some of my private lesson students."

My stomach flipped over and my throat went dry. I stammered, "Private lessons?"

"Yeah, I have my hands full, so I'm giving you some of my students. Besides, it's great pocket money," he replied cheerfully.

Let's stop right here for a moment, so I can explain. I don't like the idea of private lessons. There is nothing more suspicious than the word "private" and the word "lesson"- not to mention them together to form one phrase. It wasn't so much me I was concerned about; it was the student I was going to have to teach. What if the student gets any funny ideas like pulling a knife on me or a strap-on dildo? What if they are just spiteful and want to get me in trouble? They could! Crazy shit happens all the time!

I tried to swallow my paranoia and uneasy stomach and gave Mr. Maxwell a forced grin and a nod. He gave me the schedule of when my lessons would be. My first was going to be tomorrow. I love how they didn't mention this in the job description. I reassured myself, for I assumed that the kid would be an innocent band geek with braces and a face full of acne. No threat there. But still, the uneasiness raged in my stomach.

It was the end of the school day of Tuesday. I had my game face on and I had finally settled my stomach, thanks to an entire bottle of Pepto-Bismol. I had a clean cut look to myself, freshly shaven and my sleeves rolled perfectly equal to each other. Don't you hate when one sleeve is being a bitch and won't roll up the same height as the other? Well, I had managed to get them equal- took me an hour- but whatever.

I waited eagerly in the band room, for my decibel would be meeting there directly after school. Five minutes passed, then ten minutes. My foot tapped the ground aggressively as I stared at my watch. I sighed happily, realizing that it would be a no show. I chuckled, thinking about how crazy I was to be worried. I was about ready to pack up and call it a day when she entered the room.

Her wavy hair and bangs along her forehead waved back and forth as she hustled toward me. She had water dripping down her and I locked eyes with the most perfect tits I had ever seen. Maybe it was her tiny waist, but they had to have been double d's. It was evident she wasn't wearing a bra because her nipples were poking through her blue V-neck shirt. It's as if God himself had molded these beauties with his own holy hands because I was about ready to get on my knees and pray. Lucky bastard.

This wasn't my student, this could not be my student, I told myself.

She had a concerned look on her face when she approached me. She quickly said out of breath, "I'm so sorry for being late! I'm usually pretty punctual. I had to renew my driver's license because of my birthday, and you know how the BMV can be! Not to mention the roads were awful because of the rain- Where's Mr. Maxwell?"

She had a puzzled look on her face, but the only thing I noticed were her juicy lips. Her bottom lip stuck out mockingly as if it said, "Bite me, already". I shook out of it and cleared my voice, trying to remember the spell I had practiced earlier. "I'm going to be your new instructor, er, teacher." Yeah, going to instruct her in a lot of things, aren't ya? I thought to myself. I rolled my eyes to myself and said, "I'm Mr. Sexton."

Her body eased up and her face loosened. A small smile slid over her lips and she responded, "Nice to meet you. I'm Christina."

Of course her name is Christina, I thought, that's like the sexiest name alive and she conveniently has it. I cleared my throat again. I could feel myself becoming slightly aroused between her lumps of gold and her beautiful face. Please don't get an erection; please don't get an erection, the words repeated in my head. "So, tell me what you need help with exactly?" I said casually, leaning back against a chair.

"Mr. Maxwell wants me to play snare drum for a song in band, but I normally play clarinet. And, well, you know wind players, we are only good for blowing," she said with a sly smile.

This was red flag number one. Why? Because she made FULL eye contact with me when she said it, people! If that literally doesn't say she had other intentions, then what does?

She must have seen me squirm because she gave out a little giggle. I walked over to set up a drum and also to avoid her see me beginning to sweat. After I set it up, I prompted her to get behind it and I handed her a set of drum sticks. She looked at the drum sticks as if they were some kind of wild animal. She gave a puzzled look and said, "I'm not sure how to hold these or anything. Can you show me?"

So the naïve me decided to walk right into her little trap. How stupid could I be? Apparently a lot, because I went right behind her and placed my hands on hers and held them in the right format and position. This is what a teacher normally would do, don't think otherwise, when they are teaching a debutant. The only difference is that when I found myself behind her, I finally got view of her ass. This girl must have squatted daily because no natural ass looks that good. I wished I was her jeans, so I could have ate her ass like those snug fitting jeans. But where the trouble occurs is what happens next. She pushed her ass into my crotch!

There was the second red flag. I should have ran for the hills while I had the chance.

Fuck, there goes my erection. I thought. My khakis gave no leeway; she had to have felt my cock trying to bust through and feel her ass. I backed up quickly and adjusted my pants. "There, like that," I said and returned to face her in front. Her green eyes looked dreamily at me and her lips looked wet. I'm usually not into chicks with straight forehead bangs, but she looked like a naughty schoolgirl with them. Hell, she was a naughty schoolgirl! "Okay, give me eight beats on a hand and continue to repeat," I demanded.

She obeyed and started pounding away at the drum. Was she using a lot of arm movement on purpose, so her tits would giggle? "Make sure you use more of your wrist," I said. That's what he said; I thought amusingly and tried to shake it off. She began to use more of her wrists and I chimed in, "Be more firm with your grip, as well," I declared. That's what he said, too, I thought again. I had to hold back my laughter. I'm pretty hilarious. She went through the warmup and then her stick slipped out of her hand. It rolled on the ground toward my feet.

"I'm so careless," she said hastily, and got on her knees and crawled down to my feet and picked it up. The next moment was in slow motion. She picked up her torso with her knees on the ground and, with full eye contact, she moved her face up to meet my crotch. Her tits were vibrant and still wet. She bit her lip at me and grabbed my thigh.

There was the third flag. Strike three- you're out. That was the moment my promising future was going to be thrown to the wind. She threw the drum sticks aside and grabbed my package through my pants. Why didn't I move or get away? You know a deer in headlights- that was me. It was because this gorgeous babe was fondling me and I was shocked that a girl even liked me. The last time I had gotten laid was in college and the girl was practically knocked out unconscious because she was so hammered. Now this babe with the perkiest tits and the tightest ass imaginable had a full handle on my balls and cock.

She stared at me with yearning eyes, desperate for my cock. I swallowed hard and she began to unbuckle my pants slowly. She threw my belt to the side and unzipped my pants and pulled them down to my ankles. My skinny, hairy legs were quivering in my American Eagle boxers. She began to massage my balls in her hand and kissing my dick through my underwear. I rested my hand on a nearby chair. I had forgotten that we were in the broad open band room and that I was a teacher.

She finally pulled down my boxers to get a full view of my meat. I suddenly felt very self-conscience, fearing that I was going to be a disappointment. I wondered if she could read my mind because she looked up at me and said, "Damn, you are big." She licked her lips and took me into her mouth. I almost fell from the pleasure soaring through me, but I kept my stance. She must have had years of practice because her technique was flawless. She took breaks between having my head in her mouth and jacking me off and putting most of my shaft in her mouth and sucking. She twirled her tongue around my head and paid close attention to when I reacted well to something. She took me out of her mouth and licked the underside of my cock and kissed my balls. She began to shove me down her throat vigorously and I pulled her hair back from her face.

Then I realized I was cumming. And all over too. She jacked me off into her mouth and let me spray on her chest. I moaned so loud, I think I shocked her because she looked up a bit bewildered, but then she laughed. She pulled up my boxers, then my pants, and retrieved my belt to put it back on me. As she stood up, she kissed me up the chest through my button up shirt and onto my lips. As I suspected too, her lips were delicious. She bit my lip and pushed her tongue into my mouth which still tasted like semen.

She backed up from me and grabbed her book bag and said, "That was very beneficial. Are we on for next Tuesday then, Mr. Sexton?"

I stood in the same place; and with my mouth ajar, I just nodded my head.

"Okay, great!" She said cheerfully and began to walk away, then she turned around and said, "I think I'm really going to like working with you." She winked and walked out of the band room.

I didn't even look when she left. I stood in the same position she left me with my mouth agape and still. Was it ten minutes I stood there, or thirty? I'm not sure. There was only one question that screamed inside of my head. What the fuck just happened?