A simple kiss should be OK

“I guess a kiss would be OK,” I pause to gage her reaction, “for educational purposes ... right?” It seems that Alison is serious about making my fantasy come true, because she accepts my decision with a shy smile.

“Yes, Sir, who better to teach me than you?” She lets me lift her to her feet and gently pull her into my arms before she closes her eyes and lifts her puckered lips in invitation. She looks for all the world like a schoolgirl waiting for her very first kiss, and I'm determined to make it one she isn't likely to forget.

I start slow, teasing her soft lips with mine, first kissing the corners before moving onto her full mouth. We kiss like that for almost a minute. Softly, sweetly and innocently with not even a hint of tongue before I pull away leaving her trembling in my arms. Considering how innocent and chaste that kiss was, I'm a little surprised by both our reactions. Alison's face is flushed, her breathing rapid and shallow and her eyes have a dreamy far-away-look that is sexier than the come-hither looks I see in most porn shoots. I'm in rough shape too. I can feel my heart pounding like I've just sprinted the length of a football field and the tent in my khakis has nothing to do with camping.

“There, now you've been kissed. That wasn't so bad, was it?”

“I was amazing, Sir.”

“Well, you have school, Honey, and I wanted to do some weeding in the garden.” I have to hide my smile with my hand as I release her and move to the sink to take care of the morning dishes. I wonder if she thought I was going to pick her up and fuck her right here on the kitchen counter. Honestly, it would have been pretty hot, but if I'm going to have a sweet young schoolgirl to enjoy, I don't want to ruin that lovely innocence on the very first morning.

Only when my sexy tenant is safely off to her morning classes do I allow myself to consider what kind of weird shit I'm getting into. I guess like all teachers I've had girls with crushes on me. Mostly when I was much younger, but you'd be surprised at how many high school girls are interested in even fifty-year-old teachers. It may be a 'Daddy' thing, or just that they think someone that old is a safe target to experiment with, I don't know. The point is that I was getting offers (mostly implied but some very explicit) right up until my very last years of teaching.

I never acted on any of those offers, besides the consequences of getting caught, I simply wasn't that interested in any kind of relationship with a girl that much younger than me. That didn't mean I didn't sometimes jerk off to the mental image of some hottie laid out on my school desk amidst a pile of ungraded papers. Alison got the look just right too, not some sex-fiend whose fucked half the school or a cheerleader with her short skirts and perfect legs. Nope, give me a fresh-faced ingénue who needs a teacher's guidance any day of the year. Afterall, if you're going to fuck a schoolgirl, she may as well look like one, not one of those tattooed thirty-year old skanks that they put in pleated skirts on most porn videos.

I was outside later in the day when Alison came out to find me, not weeding, but fixing a small hole I noticed under the eaves of my shed. She had changed her outfit, but she looks as sweet and innocent as ever.

“Mr. Patterson, can we talk?”

“Sure.” I wipe the last bit of calking off my fingers and close the shed door, “What do you want to talk about?” She blushes, and bites her lip nervously but eventually gets out the words I'm expecting to hear.

“About this morning ... you know, when you kissed me?”