You let her go

It is only about 30 minutes later that Alison shows up again, this time dressed in her usual clothes.

“Hi, Mr. P!” She seems in a particularly good mood and it is not hard to guess why. “You have a good day?”

“Yeah, pretty good. I had a visit from one of my students; that was different.” Alison's eyes light up at the mention of her alter ego's visit, but all the same she manages to act surprised.

“Really, what did she want?”

“Well, she's a bit confused.” I smile casually, “Actually, I think she might have a bit of a crush on me.” Alison smiles back, clearly pleased with her earlier efforts.

“Ooo, that sounds promising, Mr. P. Is she pretty?”

“Oh please!” I laugh, “She's just a high school student, I don't even know if she's 18.” Alison smirks in that way she has, it probably should annoy me, but lately I've come to look forward to her sly grins.

“I didn't ask if you were going to bang her, Mr. P,” I've noticed Alison has become a lot less reserved these past two weeks and I wonder if it is directly related to our extra-curricular activities. "I just wanted to know if she was pretty?”

“Well, in that case, yes she's pretty enough but I don't think she realizes it.” With that Alison disappears up to her room, and I suspect that at least some of what she's doing is getting ready to tease me with more of this nerdy student look.

Sure enough, the next afternoon there is another 'ding-dong' at my door and once again Alison is at my door, looking a little less dorky than before.

It is still a pretty conservative look, but her hair is down, and she has a little lipstick and blush on. We sit on the swing-set again, this time a little closer so our arms and legs touch periodically, with each touch a frisson of excitement shoots straight to my cock that is starting to bulge noticeably in my khakis. If Alison is aware of my predicament, she is too polite to comment about it, but I notice that her thighs open and close as she subtly wiggles on the seat by my side. After a minute or two of silence, Alison turns the conversation to a more personal note and just like yesterday her small hand rests on mine.

“Do you think I'm pretty, Mr. Patterson?” Her doe-eyes peer up at me through her glasses, “I got some makeup at Sephora's, and they showed me how to use it.” This is the exact kind of situation that I was careful to avoid when I actually had students, but now I hold back because I want to build the tension, not because I have to. I cover her hand with mine and squeeze it gently.

“Of course, you're pretty, Miss Miller.” I stand up abruptly and turn away long enough to adjust my trousers, “but you don't want to hear that from your grey-haired teacher, you want one of the handsome young men in your class to tell you that.” Alison follows me and presses her firm tit against my ribs as she clings to my arm.

“Oh, Mr. P, those boys are so immature. They might be my age, but they act like they're still in middle school.” She wasn't all wrong about how immature most high school boys were. As much as I want to take Alison into my house and strip her out of her conservative clothes so I can get my hands on her teenaged curves, it is too soon.

“Go home, Miss Miller.” I take her firmly by her upper arms and gently hold her so there is a space between our bodies. “You're a wonderful young woman, just be patient. The right guy is out there waiting for someone like you.” Left unsaid was that I was that man, and I fully intended to enjoy every square inch of her smooth untouched flesh. With a half sob, Alison shakes free of my grasp and stumbles down the porch steps and then up the street.

I wonder if Alison is going to want a play-by-play rundown of this encounter too, and with a smile I try to figure out what tomorrow will bring. I'm starting to doubt that I'll be able to wait until the weekend if Alison keeps this slow steady **** on my sensibilities.