I Smithson: Tempting daddy

"Yes, Leslie, we'll have some fun together, and I know we'll get along."

"I know we will, too," Leslie answered. Smiling prettily, she shook his proffered hand and sat down in one of the unusually comfortable desk-chairs in the second row.

Trained by her father to be prompt, Leslie was usually more than prompt. In this case she was at least fifteen minutes early. Only she and Mr. Spire were in the classroom for about ten minutes before the first student ambled in. It was during this interval that Leslie inadvertently seduced Mr. Spire.

She really didn't mean it!

We've all heard stories about wanton young girls sitting with their skirts up in class just so the lecherous teacher could drool as he jerked off his cock behind the safety of his desk. I guess they do happen from time to time, young girls needing better grades, exhibiting their secret charms in the hopes the teacher will be kind to them when he affixes his grade to their test papers.

This case was slightly different.

Mr. Spire had a habit many of his students laughed at. And Mr. Spire was always amused himself at their laughter. The habit was this.

The subject he taught was biology. This meant that he spent a great deal of time up front drawing diagrams on the blackboards facing the class.

Two of these blackboards contained semi-permanent diagrams and illustrations, but from time to time these would need changes. To change them, Mr. Spire would reach up high and erase, then reaching up again, either transcribe data or insert new material into the erased areas.

This constant shifting invariably pulled his shirttails out of his pants. In a one hour class, this happened at least four times.

The way Mr. Spire elected to put his shirttails back where they belonged was unusual. Most men would simply push the shirt back down inside, but not Mr. Spire. As casually as if he were scratching his chin, he would zip down his fly. Inside would go his hand. He would grip the tails of his shirt and tug them down from the inside to where they belonged. Then, never looking down during the entire procedure, he would promptly zip back up and never even interrupt his lecture.

So this is what happened. Leslie sat alone in the large classroom. Mr. Spire was erasing the blackboard and inserting new diagrams and biological formulae. Out came his shirttails. Finished, he brushed the chalk from his hands and standing slightly facing Leslie, and completely oblivious to her presence, zipped down his fly, put his hand in, tugged down his unruly shirt and then zipped up. This took a matter of seconds but…

He caught his shirt in the zipper! It was only one-third the way up to the top when it caught. Mr. Spire turned his back to Leslie and sighed with exasperation. This wasn't the first time this had happened to him.

He struggled with it, trying not to tear the shirt or break the zipper. He was having no success. He looked at Leslie, a look of helplessness. She grinned.

"Is it caught?" she asked.

"Yes, and it's embarrassing," he said, grimacing. Mr. Spire hated irritating trifles and this was one of them. He kept fighting the zipper but it refused to budge.

"Could I help?" Leslie asked. She had to giggle.

Mr. Spire smiled. "This is some experience to have the first day in class with a new teacher, isn't it, Miss Groten?"

"I guess so," she laughed. "Come over here and see what I can do. This happened once to my father and I fixed his."

"Good, then just think of me as your father," the handsome biology teacher laughed. He stood before her. Leslie saw he was actually blushing.

Leslie examined the scene. The shirt was definitely caught between two irregular zipper teeth. She saw right away that there was no fixing it. She said as much.

"That's a final diagnosis?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. Spire." She shook her head sadly. "The only remedy now is to pin it up and hope it doesn't gap open."

"Have you a pin, good doctor?"

Leslie laughed. She liked him, his sense of humor.

"Yes, if you'll just be patient!" she punned.

She found a safety pin in the bottom of her leather purse. And it was while pinning his fly closed that her fingers came into contact several distinct times with different parts of his penis.

When Leslie's fingers lingered (so it seemed to him) over the head of his sensitive prick, he had to grit his teeth to keep his prick from expressing itself naturally.

When Leslie's fingertips touched the base of his prick (so it seemed to him), there was almost nothing he could do to keep his prick from stretching from three inches to possibly four and a half.

Then Leslie's fingers brushed the length of his cock (so it seemed to him) and his prick erected. The huge bulge it made inside his pants testified to his erection. When it began to throb as her fingers patted the buttoned-up fly, he was sure that if she did one more thing, touched him once again, even lightly or casually, his prick would explode and shower the inside of his Jockey shorts with come.

You can imagine his immense sigh of relief when Leslie sat back to appraise her handiwork. "You can't even see the pin, Mr. Spire, and I guess that swelling will go down, huh?"

He laughed. So she knew!

"I see we're going to get along famously, Leslie."

"I hope so, Mr. Spire, and as far as that swelling is concerned," she said, her features serious, scratching her chin professionally as doctors do, "should it happen too often, I suggest that you drop into my office. No appointment necessary."

They laughed together.

"So, the erect penis is no stranger to you, Leslie?"

"Wrong! Wrong!" she said, smiling. "It's still a stranger to me… to my body, but I live alone with my father and he has a penis, believe it or not, and I know quite a lot about his."

"Sound like a most comfortable arrangement."

Leslie reflected a moment. "It is," she smiled. And, as she said this, one of her new classmates entered the room.

She was a trim little girl, Leslie noted. Nicely dressed. Small breasts but a lovely bottom and a narrow waist. She had hair down to her waist and it was sparkling clean. She also had an unusually pretty face, almost doll-like with a built-in smile.

Like Leslie, she was wearing brown riding boots and sheer pantyhose. Also a bright yellow miniskirt which fell just below her curvy buttocks. Leslie liked her right away.

The new girl spent a few minutes with the now-seated Mr. Spire. Again Leslie found him to be very good-looking and sexually attractive. She had touched his growing penis on purpose, wanting to see how he'd react, and she was pleased that he didn't try to take advantage of her. He had a nice long fat prick. She had even felt the heat of it through his trousers as she pinned the zipper for him.

Mr. Spire approached. "Leslie, may I present Miss Catherine Dorchester." He smiled. "Miss Dorchester, this is Miss Leslie Groten, but you can call her doctor. If you need any doctoring, just let her know," Mr. Spire joked and Leslie blushed prettily.

Cathy sat down next to Leslie and they started to chat immediately.

James Groten's sixteen-year marriage to Leslie's mother had never been a truly happy union. Suzanne had all the instincts of a young wild animal in heat. She needed to be serviced sexually on a regular basis, and this perfunctory attitude about fornication dampened James' spirit more times than he liked to think about.

She would literally insist on being fucked three times each week, just as she consumed three meals each and every day of the week, slept eight or so hours every night and had one bowel movement every morning.

During the early years of their lives together when Leslie was small and required little personal attention, James had few, if any objections to his wife's rigid sexual requirements.