Carl Burton - Sex teaching teacher

She was concentrating on the hot bath she was going to take as soon as she got home. She really needed it.

Chester Malcolm was forty-eight, wore glasses, and was getting bald. He also had a paunch. He ran a hardware store in town.

His pale, somewhat watery eyes showed a strange light when he looked at Susan – and he looked at her a lot – but he had never put a hand on her or said anything out of line.

He was married to a stern little woman with a dumpy figure, and Susan speculated that if they ever had sex it couldn't be very good for him. She felt sorry for him in a vague way, but she was no altruist where sex was concerned. She had her own problems.

After dinner that night, Clara Malcolm went to her weekly club meeting, and Chester settled down with his pipe in front of the TV. Susan entered the living room after having finished grading the math papers in her room.

"Well hello, little lady!" Chester said, and rose.

"You don't have to do that whenever I walk in," Susan told him with a smile. "I'm only a boarder, after all."

"But you're a mighty pretty young woman, and you deserve courtesy," Chester said.

He was a nice man, she concluded. She took a chair near his and crossed her legs. Feeling his gaze, a quick glance told her that he was admiring her trim knees. She glanced back at the detective show on TV.

Uncle Harry had been about Chester's age when he had "attacked" her, if that was the word. He hadn't actually penetrated her, but he had felt her up and down and taken her clothes off and kissed her between the legs until she would have let him do anything. He had just unlimbered his big cock when his younger sister – Susan's mother – stormed into the room. Susan had never forgotten how his prick had suddenly gone limp as spaghetti.

Chester stood. "How about a little after-dinner drink?"

Susan smiled. "Oh, no. I really couldn't."

"Come on. I'm gonna have one. You wouldn't want me to drink alone, would you?"

Maybe a drink is just what you need. Susan told herself. Anyway, old Chester isn't going to try to seduce you. He wouldn't dare.

If she had thought about it at the time, she would have concluded the same thing about Uncle Harry.

"Well, maybe a little one," Susan said.

Beaming, Chester hurried to get a bottle, ice, and glasses.

The TV show didn't command Susan's interest. It was half over, and she didn't care much for detectives anyway. Her thoughts drifted to Tommy and his beautiful young cock.

Oh, you ARE wicked! she told herself. But that didn't turn off the erotic fancy.

Deep inside she didn't feel it was so bad to admire young boys. It wasn't as if she really intended to do anything about it. What she had done with Rusty was far worse, she believed, than her desire for Tommy.

Chester gave her a drink, and she sipped at it.

He downed his quickly. "Hurry up now, or I'm gonna get ahead of you," he said, indicating his empty glass.

"Oh, I only want one," Susan replied, beginning to feel a bit warm and relaxed.

"Nonsense!" Chester said. "A bird can't fly on one wing."

"Well, I don't contemplate flying." Susan sipped.

"Not even a little bit?"

Susan glanced at Chester, and he was smiling at her with that strange gleam in his eyes. She felt a bit uneasy. Her cure for the sensation was to finish the drink in her hand.

Chester rose and took her glass.

She could have insisted that he not pour her another. But she didn't say anything. She was feeling quite good by that time and wanted to feel better.

Susan had gotten drunk very few times in her life, always with men, and it always had ended with her on her back and those bastards panting on top of her. Well, she wouldn't get drunk tonight, she vowed – and even if she did, she wouldn't lie down for Chester. Of course, the question was academic, because Chester wouldn't force the situation to that point. Sure, he liked to look at her, and he probably had his dirty thoughts, but he valued his respected place in the community and he had a strait-laced wife. No, Chester was quite harmless, Susan believed.

She took the second drink he offered, not noticing that it was a double.

She sipped. Chester gulped. He watched her.

She squirmed a bit on the chair seat. For some unaccountable reason, her pussy was getting warm. It had been a crazy day – her first wild day since she had come to Poplar Gap and it wasn't over yet.

"You know, you're just about the prettiest thing we've had in these parts since as far back as I can remember," Chester said, his speech showing a trace of thickness.

"Oh, now…" Susan said. She laughed and lifted a lock of black hair away from her cheek.

She had almost finished her second drink and was feeling loose. Her thoughts were fuzzy. The uncomfortable warmth persisted between her legs.

"What do you say we turn off this television and put on some music?" Chester suggested.

"I don't mind," Susan said.

The paunchy man got up and darkened the set. He stepped to the stereo, set up some records, and in a few moments soft, rhythmic music filled the room. Chester turned off a lamp, leaving just a single one aglow, and that was dim.

"Like to dance?" he asked, grinning at Susan as he moved over in front of her chair.

"Sometimes," she admitted. Her brain seemed to be dancing on air already.

Chester drew her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her. She felt the soft thrust of his belly and smelled the mingled aromas of tobacco and booze. She shut her eyes and let the older man guide her about the carpeted floor. The surface was no good for dancing, but that wasn't really what they were doing. They were just stepping a bit and swaying to the music.

Chester's hand seemed restless at the small of her back. She had- put on a sweater and skirt for the evening, and he was feeling around where the two garments met. Susan wondered hazily about it, but she felt too good to mind.

The man's fleshy hand slid down. It brushed the tops of Susan's buttocks.

Should I say anything? she wondered. She felt nice and warm. No, he's not hurting me.

Chester's hand slid lower. He gently massaged Susan's ass.

"Heyyyyyy!" she said, and pushed back to look at him. She gave a throaty chuckle.

Chester chuckled, also. His eyes were glinting in their moistness. "What's the matter? Don't that feel good?"

He kept rubbing her buttocks, back and forth and gently in circles. Her firm curves were supple, clad only in light panties beneath her skirt.

The massaging did feel good, Susan was forced to admit to herself. Warm and kind of soothing. She snuggled against Chester once more. They kept dancing, doing a slow turn. Chester held her tightly.

She wasn't sure when she first felt his prick. By the time she realized it, she thought she had been feeling it for quite awhile. She started to panic.

But Chester was holding her securely against him, still dancing, still tenderly massaging her ass. The liquor had really grabbed hold of her by that time. She had taken six ounces of hundred-proof bourbon, and dinner had been three hours ago. To all intents and purposes, Susan was drunk.

Chester began pulling up her skirt.

Why, the old fool! she thought. The dirty old man! It struck her as funny that he thought he could get anywhere with her.

It will be a kick to let him work himself up and then stop him cold, she decided. That will serve him right. It will be like Uncle Harry all over again, but this time I'll do the stopping. And then I'll laugh. Why the very idea of him thinking he can make me!

Chester pulled her skirt up to the small of her back and placed his hand on her silken panties. The smooth, thin briefs clung to her rubbery buttocks which were gyrating gently as she moved to the music.