What in the name of the lord who I don’t believe exists do I think I am doing? I have just signed up to temptation. What is it? On the face of it nothing. Nothing but a bloody stupid tennis match. But now - from now on – I have to compel myself to behave. I must not allow myself to be tempted. I must not allow the devil of temptation who will present himself in his most beguiling manner, in his most innocent guise, I must not allow him to envelop me. Oh the sweet pleasure that could be mine. The innocence of his youth The chance to have it close enough I can feel its breath, close enough to touch it, to embrace it. Lord only knows what else. I dare not think into what pit of beautiful depravity I might lead him – or, God forbid – he lead me. He lead me? Oh yes, don’t ask, of course I would follow. Like a loyal pet I’d follow him. Helpless, into his every desire.

Of course, this does not make sense. You ask ‘who am I?’ I shall tell you. I am Julia Hyatt a French teacher. I am 24 years old and female. I qualified 2 years ago and last year I was appointed to my present post in a boy’s grammar school. That was September. It is now late June. The teaching has been hard work but mainly enjoyable. So far it has been a good summer and already my fair skin has taken on a light brown tan. This has been helped by the fact that the school has excellent outdoor sports facilities and I have used them a lot in the lengthening summer evenings. I am just 5ft 4”, perhaps a trifle dumpy but fairly athletic. Tennis is my favourite sport and I have spent many enjoyable hours on the school’s courts. Mostly I play with one or two of the other female teachers on the staff but sometimes men offer to give me a game, especially the older ones. Frequently while staff play on one court, the adjacent court will be used by students.

The problem, if problem it is, started three weeks ago. I was out on the tennis court ready to play but waiting for Sarah, a history teacher to join me for a game. On the court next to ours 3 boys were having a hit around that was obviously unsatisfactory because of the odd number of players. One of the pair left his partner and walked over to me.

“Hello Miss”

“Hello David” I recognised him. I taught him French For his age he was tall. He had the litheness of youth and he was good-looking in an unremarkable way. He would probably pass for someone much older. I looked at him. It was the first time I saw him as an individual and not just one member in a class of students. I was immediately a trifle jealous. His skin which was naturally darker than mine had been turned a lovely brown colour. He bent down to pick up a tennis ball and as his shirt rode up I could see his back was equally tanned. I thought his colour looked very attractive but, just for a moment, I wondered whether when he took his pants off he was very white underneath.

“Miss, may I knock up a bit with you while you wait for your partner.”

“Yes, good idea.”

David took the tennis very seriously and he was good. When Sarah turned up I thanked him for the knockabout and congratulated him on his tennis play. He explained he had been playing since he was ten. He was only a little out of breath. I was too but also a little flushed. Before he said goodbye he couldn’t stop himself quickly glancing at my breasts that were gently heaving following the exercise. What happened next I don’t really know how to explain. At first I wanted to say that the boy looking at my breasts made me feel objectified, reduced me to the status of a picture of a naked woman looked at secretly under the cover of a classroom desk. This led me to respond by looking directly, for a fraction of a second only, at the small bulge at the front of his shorts. It was an act of defiance. If he could look then so could I. Well, that’s one explanation. The other is that inwardly I was pleased this youngster wanted to look at my breasts. Just for a second or so it awakened in me something raw and sexual. His look wanted to know more about my body and, truth to tell. I think – no, I’m sure – I wanted to know more of his body. I’ll do away with unnecessary politeness. I wanted to look at his prick and his balls. I wanted to know if they were as fresh and inviting as the rest of him. Of course I could not tell him this and I was sure he was not yet mature enough to understand what lay behind my cursory look.

Just 2 days later David approached me after I had taught his class and asked very politely if he could play a game of tennis with me one evening. I replied that of course he could but it would have to just for one set – say on Friday after school. I said I would book the court using teacher’s rivilege but he should recognise that this was a one-off, not to be repeated because it would look like favouritism. And I knew there was a danger that staff would talk and suggest it was inappropriate but I was counting on the fact that others would see it more as an act of generosity and kindness on my part. Nobody could seriously think that a 24 year old female teacher would have sexual designs on a student his age. Nor, for my part, could I come anywhere near admitting such motives to myself. I wanted to see my role as sort of maternal. In a matronly manner I was caring for a young student who seemed intelligent and I thought he could benefit from my company.

But now as Friday approaches I am a mess of emotions. One moment I am a mistress of self-control. I can view the day as a normal teaching day. And, as on so many summer evenings, I shall unwind with a game of tennis. It will be a nice entrée into the weekend. He is a nice, bright young man with whom I have agreed to play a set. Afterwards I shall go home, open a bottle of wine, watch some inconsequential television programme and go to bed exhausted but relaxed. One moment it all sounds so convincing. It’s what I want. No it isn’t - Shit, shit, shit. I can’t get out of my mind the alternative. I don’t want that pleasant, normal end of the school week. I want something exciting something with a frisson – a shiver of excitement. I’m imagining we finish tennis and I offer to drive him home but on the way offer him something cool to drink at my flat. I skip awkward words and actions and soon I am caressing his naked body taking his prick in my mouth. I’m cupping his balls, I’m begging him to touch me, caress me, lick me. ...oh God, it has no ending, it’s just recurring tender but raw sex.

Then there is the moment of reality. Not only can it not be like that. It must not be like that.

“Hello Miss”

“Hello David. Are you ready for our game? I have a feeling you’re going to be far too good for me.”

“I don’t think so miss. I’ve watched you play. You’re pretty good.”

I’m no longer a bundle of nerves. Hitting the ball, chasing it round the court concentrating on serving properly all of this is invigorating. I have forgotten all plans for apres tennis. I am living for the moment and my absorption in the game is all-consuming. I win but it is hard fought and it has lasted longer than intended and I am not sure that I wasn’t allowed to win.

“Thanks miss. You were really great.”

“Thanks David. I’m sorry. It’s quite late. Do you live far away?”

“Wood Green”

“OK I’ll give you a lift home – I live in Turnpike Lane so you can’t be far out of my way. It’ll save you waiting for a bus. Go and get yourself changed. I’m going to have a quick shower and change. I’ll meet you over there by my blue Renault Clio in 10 or so minutes. OK?”

“Great. Thanks Miss.”

I emerge having showered and exchanged my tennis clothes for a cool blouse and a pair of summer slacks. I started to put on a light summer cardigan but thought twice about it and instead tied the arms round my neck letting the garment hang behind my back“

David was waiting. I ushered him into the front passenger seat of the car.

“Are you comfortable there David?”

“Yes, Fine thanks Miss.”

“Will your parents be put out by you being late?”

“No, it’s alright. I live with my mum and she’s used to me being late because I do lots of after-school activities. She does a twilight shift at the packing factory on the industrial estate so she has to be out by 6.30 and she usually leaves me a meal if I’m late. You met her the other week at Parents’ Evening.”

“Oh, yes I remember now. She was one of the first I saw and she explained that she had to go to work and that was why she had booked early – which part of Wood Green am I heading for?”

“Do you know Alexandra Park Road?”

“Sure. Do you live there?”

“Yeh Number 334.”

“That’s weird – my address is 335 Green Lanes – all we need now is someone who lives at 336 somewhere and then we’d have what I think we could call a ‘full house’. Sorry that’s really corny and naff. Which end of Alexandra Park Road am I aiming for?”

“It’’s at the Wood Green end of the road not the Muswell Hill end.”

“Well that should be easy. Left or right side of the Road?”

“Left. Just at the top of the hill. Yes, that’s it. Look there’s mum just leaving for work. Give her a hoot.

Hi Mum. You remember my French teacher Miss Hyatt. We played tennis and she offered to give me a lift home.”

“Oh thank you Miss Hyatt. I hope David has not been taking advantage?”

“Not at all. I was glad to offer the lift – I don’t live far away. I’m in Turnpike Lane.”

“Well, thanks again. I have to go to work if you’ll excuse me. David – be polite and offer Miss Hyatt a cup of tea before she rushes off. Bye”

“Would you like a cuppa Miss Hyatt.”

“That would be nice – yes please.”

Curiosity. I don’t know where this is going. It’s exciting. Probably nothing. Drink my tea, utter a few pleasantries that amount to nothing then politely take my leave.

“Do you have sugar?”

He bends down to replace the sugar at the bottom of a cupboard, As he does so the shorts he was wearing for tennis slip down revealing the top part of his bottom. Instantly a shiver of pleasure and desire spirals through me. It is all I can do to stop myself leaning across and feeling him. His young, supple body is designed to be caressed, fondled, licked, sucked....I feel blood rush to my cheeks. I loosen and take off the cardigan still around my neck.

“No thank you David, no sugar and not too strong please.”

“Shall we sit here in the kitchen or would you like to be more comfortable in the living room?”

“That would be nice. Thank you”

We are soon seated in inexpensive but comfortable armchairs. I tell David,

“ I was very impressed by your tennis. You’re very fit..”

I was aware of the double meaning. I knew instinctively that he was too. I could tell from the moment I uttered the words David was already unsure – did I just mean physically fit or did I mean “fit” in the way he and his companions would refer to girls? Surely that could not be: no way could an attractive lady teacher come on to one of her students. There was a short silence between us. David was somewhat embarrassed. Then, out of the blue came a question from him that for a second or two put me on the back foot,

“Are you married Miss?”

“Well, there’s nothing like coming out straight with the questions. It’s alright I’m not offended. No, David I’m not married and I live alone but I do have a long-term boyfriend.

What about you? Do you have a girl friend?”

“Well, sort of. You see we have a small group of friends. Well actually it’s my two cousins. They’re sisters and since our grandma died me, those two cousins and a few friends we all meet at the weekend in the flat at the bottom of their house down the road here – it’s the flat that used to be grandma’s. And when we have new boyfriends or girlfriends they often become part of the crowd even if their relationship is over.”

“David you are talking a lot and very fast. Is it embarrassing you, me being here in your house, sitting down and talking to you. Would you like me to leave straight away?”

“Oh no. Don’t do that. Please. I am a bit embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

“Is it because I’m one of your teachers? Or is it just that I’m a woman?”

“I don’t know”

“I think you are very grown up.”

A lengthy pause. Perhaps I am trying to shift the balance of the conversation back in my favour....

“ Tell me David are you a virgin? Don’t look shocked. I’m not going to rape you. It’s just that there’s something in your manner that makes me think that all the time you are talking to me there’s something sexual going on. I have noticed you look at my breasts a lot and several times I’ve been aware of you trying to hide what’s going on in your shorts. No, don’t be upset. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact I feel flattered that a good-looking youngster like you can find me sexually attractive. So, let’s get back to the question in hand: are you a virgin?”

“No. I did it for the first time two weeks ago”

“Is she nice? Pretty? Sexy?”

“She probably is. She’s two years older than me. Her name is Jadzia and her father is Polish but he works for the UN in Switzerland so she lives here with her mother and dad comes over about once a fortnight. In fact, it was her who suggested we should have sex. We were just snogging in her bedroom when her mum was out when she told me to hang on. She disappeared and when she came back she had a condom which she had pinched from her dad’s bedside table. She told me to put it on and then she climbed on top of me and we did it.”

“Was it good?”

“It was OK but nothing amazing. It felt very strange having a thin piece of rubber stretched round my...”

“I see. And is she still your girlfriend?”

“Oh yes”

I catch myself suddenly feeling jealous. Why should this girlfriend – probably a 5 minute teenage romance – why should she get to be the first. I stare across at David. I deliberately move my gaze to his crotch. He squirms slightly. For a moment nothing is said. Then I tell him

“Good. I’m very pleased for you. I’m also very grateful for your hospitality. I must be going home now. I’m going to be very lazy and on the way I’ll pick up a ready meal from Marks and Spencer and open a bottle of wine when I get in. I shall watch telly and get to bed early “ And then, quite deliberately, I add enigmatically and with a knowing look, “A pleasure to look forward to.”

“Thanks again, David”

Sure as I told David I buy then heat and eat my ready made meal and, thanking M&S for their cold cabinet, I open and start drinking a bottle of Chablis. I watch some television that barely keeps my attention and after debating the pros and cons of having a second shower in the same evening I indulge myself in a hot soaking. I dry myself then stand in front of the open window to cool off. Finally, I get into bed under my lightweight summer duvet. I lay on my back, close my eyes and as I had anticipated, my thoughts immediately are occupied by young David. The thoughts are completely sexual. I’m telling myself I want him. I know he’s young – but this is just my thoughts, just my fantasy – there can’t be anything wrong with just contemplating – contemplating exactly what I’m asking myself as I move a hand between my thighs, as I start to finger myself. I recall the partial sighting of his bottom. Oh how I’d love to have that bare arse in front of me. I am imagining David naked lying on his front. His beautiful young bum is irresistible. I climb on him. I push and thrust my cunt as if I could enter him. I smear my juices across his firm. buttocks. I grab his nearest hand and pull it behind him to feel the wet smears across his soft skin. “Feel it” I whisper in his ears. “Feel how I’m leaving my wet juices on your bum. God you feel good under me -it’s like I’m fucking you from behind.”

Is it time to really fuck him? It’s my fantasy I can do what I want. I don’t think I want to do that yet. I think I want to save that – that first time with David – save it for tomorrow night in bed. He can fuck me tomorrow. No uncomfortable rubber. He can shoot all his young white stuff inside me. Tonight I tell him. “My turn. My turn on my tummy. Get up behind me. Rub your cock all over my bum. Yes that’s it – slide it between my bum cheeks – rub it all the way – rub my arsehole. That’s good, very good – go on push, shove - keep going I’m coming, oh yes, oh go on -i can feel it – spurt it all out – oh I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Sleep comes easily.

Saturday I’m out all day at a conference. It’s boring. I’m more than tired – tired is when I’ve played an hour or two of tennis – this is fatigue, the result of a day of boredom. Home is a haven. Food is too much trouble. A cheese sandwich is as much as I can be bothered to prepare and eat. I open a bottle of red that I’ve had since Christmas praying that it’s still drinkable. Bed is greeted thankfully. I masturbate but, in truth, my imaginary fucking by David is perfunctory. When I come it’s relief more than pleasure. I wake up in the middle of the night my mouth dry. I have a short drink a quick pee then back to bed and sleep.

Sunday morning I rise. A quick breakfast of cereal, a cup of tea, ablutions, shower. It’s ‘marking time’ - lots of books and a red pen - so I’m putting on no knickers, no bra just a pair of bags and a large t-shirt. Seated in my favourite armchair I lay the exercise books on the coffee table next to me and red pen to work I’m soon ploughing through last week’s French exercise for 2 classes in Year9.

I’m still marking and it’s midday. There’s a ring on the door-bell. I’ve no idea who it can be. Even so I am grateful for the interruption that, if only briefly, means I can stop marking. I’m opening the door only to find young David standing in front of me.

I am surprised and a little at a loss as how to behave. I smile a bit awkwardly..

“Hello David, for what do I owe the pleasure.?”

“Well, Miss, you left this cardigan at our house on Friday and I told mum and I said I knew where you lived because you mentioned it on Friday and so mum said it would be nice to return it to you like this rather than the embarrassment of trying to hand it back to you at school.”

“Oh that’s so thoughtful of you and your mum. Come in. It’s my turn to offer you a cup of tea.”

“Thanks Miss.”

“Please call me Julia while you’re in my home – though for Christ’s sake not in school. Follow me around while I make us a cup of tea. This is the kitchen as you can see. You don’t mind if I use tea bags do you?”

“No, of course not. That’s fine.”

“Let’s go sit next door and have our tea. I’m sorry I haven’t anything to go with it.”

It’s starting again. It’s that spiral of desire that starts like an untreatable itch between my thighs and spreads upwards through my body to my breasts. I’m looking at his fresh, almost innocent face and imagining his naked torso – there is no stupid, pointless, body-building protruding muscles. Instead smooth firm flesh untarnished, natural, virgin. A penis – I’m guessing circumcised – not protruding rigid and stiff but full enough for my mouth to engorge. I find myself standing over David taking his empty cup. My breasts are as close to his face as they have ever been. They are not particularly large but in this position the protrusion of my nipples is clearly visible. I am willing him to reach out and touch them. Instead David sits and by the look on his face has been surprised at the proximity of my breasts.

“Would you like to see the rest of the apartment David?” He murmurs a ‘yes please’ and he gets up and I put my hand on his shoulder gently guiding him. This is the second bedroom. It’s for guests but between you and me David I don’t have many guests and those that I do have would be pretty insulted if I stuck them in there. This is the bathroom – well really, as you can see it’s a shower-room.” I’m moving my guiding hand so it is no longer on David’s shoulder.. It’s at the bottom of his back, just edging his buttocks. “And finally”, I announce, “This is the home of my sinful pleasures - my bedroom. Do you like it?”

“Yes it looks very comfortable Miss – sorry I mean Julia.”

Nothing is said. We are standing by the side of the bed. I look him straight in the face. He averts his gaze to the floor but not without hesitating for a fraction of a second while his eyes dwell on my breasts.

I am consumed, totally, there is nothing else in the world at this moment other than David’s body, David’s sex.

“Would you like to touch them?”

I take his hands in mine and place them on my breasts. He looks me in the face then quickly down to where his hands are making tiny meaningless motions. I retake his hands and place them under the t-shirt. I feel his palms on my nipples. They stiffen as he makes contact.

“Kiss me David”

I encourage him by moving my face close to his, my slightly open lips close to his. Soon I am moving my tongue in his mouth and he is nervously responding. Meanwhile my hand reaches down and slips in the back of his jeans and gently scratches his bum at the same time pulling him closer. His hands are still on my breasts. As I pull him closer his arms have to move, wrap round me, his hands on my back. I’m reaching behind pushing his hands down, first one then the other, deeper inside my baggies. He’s holding my bum cheeks and very tentatively he’s squeezing them. I feel fingers daring to move lower. There’s fingers exploring. Soon they’ll be wet. I have needs. Now I’m pulling the boy down with me on to the bed, I’m kissing him, nibbling his ear, whispering encouragement...

“Go on sweet little boy. Explore. Do whatever you want. Touch whatever you want. Tell me what you want me to do. You want me to touch you – touch you like this.?..” All the time while I am talking I am undoing his jeans, My hand has found his penis. “You want me to touch these?” I ‘m whispering in his ear as I fondle his balls. I pull his jeans down so they are at his knees. In a soft voice I’m almost begging, “take them right off.”As he does what I’ve asked, I peel off my baggies. As I am reaching down to my feet to get the last of the trousers free I am glancing down to my side where David’s penis is erect. I cannot resist. I’m almost diving as I bend over and take it in my mouth. He gasps audibly. His hands grab my head. I’m worrying he’s about to ejaculate in my mouth. I don’t want that. Not now. Not yet. I move back up and stroke David’s face. I’m telling him I want him to come.

“listen David, ” I’m saying “feel me. Yes like that. Put your fingers there. Push in a little. Feel how wet you’re making me. You can put your prick in there and fuck me, then you can come inside me. You understand?” I whisper loudly “You can shoot all your white cum right up inside. I’d like that. You want it too?” He nods “Good” I say “Then afterwards I want you to do something a bit special for me, if you don’t mind.”

“Miss – I mean Julia – are you sure. Can I really fuck you?”

He’s already climbing on me

“Yes, David. That’s it – let me hold it then I can put it in and it will go in -------oh, that’s so fucking good. That’s it - go on fuck away. I’m going to put my hand down there so I can feel you going in and out. Can you feel my fingers?”

“Yes, yes Oh God what are you doing – Oh that’s amazing – oh, oh, oh.”

We say nothing. His limp penis slips out of me. We just lie there.

“Thanks” says David, “that was so good. I never thought it could be that good.”

“look David you realise you cannot tell anyone about what’s happened today. Of course, I would have to deny it but anyway it could get you in a lot of trouble. I guess I would lose my job. But the publicity would be horrific for you – and your mum. I think it’s better if we just keep it to ourselves.”

David cuddles up to my breasts and murmurs, “Yes, of course Julia, ”

“If you do come round here again I think it best you come after dark so you are not recognised – and you only come when we have arranged it. I can’t afford for someone else to be here or call in while you’re here.”

For perhaps 10 or more minutes we lie next to each other cuddling and stroking. He is shivering as I am moving my hands down, stroking his penis and testicles and then exploring a little further underneath. His hands and mouth fondle, stroke and suck my breasts. My nipples remain stiff. His penis is beginning to grow again.

I am moving over, no longer on my side I am now on my tummy. I’m hoping David will take the hint but all he does is stroke my bum now that my breasts are out of reach. “That’s good” I sigh as his hand starts to push down at the lower end of my bum towards my vagina. He is lying sideways on to me. I’m twisting my arm round encouraging him to lie on top of me. When he realises what I want, anxious to please, he is mounting me and soon he is trying to push his prick down towards my cunt.

“No David” I tell him, “Put it between my bum cheeks. That’s it. Oh that feels good. I can feel you all stiff again.” I am reaching behind and pulling my cheeks apart. His prick is sinking deeper into the valley, now rubbing against the depths of my cleft. I am very turned on. I’m about to lose all inhibitions. “Push David. Push Rub harder. Oh David – More. Oh please, please.”

I’ve raised my bum a few inches high off the bed. It naturally pulls the cheeks apart a little. David seems to realise what’s needed and he is now holding my cheeks apart. I am reaching behind and finding his penis. Using it like a tool, like a sex toy, I am rubbing the end of it all along the area around my bum-hole. The sensation is manna from heaven. I can’t stop – I am just rubbing and rubbing bringing myself off. As my climax approaches I am increasingly making the boy’s prick rub and press against the hole. My arse is throbbing. I think I am pushing it against his prick. I want him at least to put a finger in. It’s not necessary. I’m cumming. He is sensing it. I still have hold of his prick as it explodes spurting semen all over my bum.

It’s been a disaster. My obsession with a student has led me where I sure as hell did not want to be. I now have to trust to his silence. He knows when he sees me in school - “I’ve fucked that teacher but I’ll tell you what – she loves it up her arse.” Oh God what Have I done. Never again I tell myself, but even as I do, I know deep inside of me, if he comes asking there will always be the temptation – and you know what the man said - “I can resist anything but temptation.”