Meeting Mrs. Moorland

You're a little intimidated in this school. In addition to being young for the school, you're also a bit short and scrawny (except in one area, but that's usually hidden in public.) Looking at your options, however, you find yourself wanting to sign up for tutoring with Mrs. Moorland, partially because you've seen her and you think she's hella-hot, but also because she's free. It seems that with you signing on, you'll be the only student she's tutoring. The only off-putting thing is the Mrs. on her name. Probably married. Ah well...

You sign up for her anyways. After some time comes your first meeting with her. Looking at the page you got from the office, you find that she does her tutoring not at the school but at her own home. That'll be nice, but you figure her husband will be constantly there watching over your shoulders. Still, you show up.

When you knock on the door, it is opened by Mrs. Moorland herself who fills the doorway with her large sexy body, her big sweet lips smiling down at you. She frankly towers over you, but in a good, sheltering sort of way. She extends a large soft hand and you take it as she invites you in, pressing her large body (with extremely massive breasts) against you as you come in. You want nothing more than to fling your arms around what you can of her waist and bury your face in her bosom, but you somehow restrain yourself. In the pressing, your trouser bulge makes itself very apparent. It has always looked huge on your small frame and she definitely takes notice, not even bothering to hide it.

"Well, someone's happy to be here," she says with a slight British accent and a light blush over her full cheeks.

"Heh, sorry if I'm embarrassing you," you say, "but you are gorgeous. Your husband's a lucky guy."

"He...was," she says, still blushing, "but he's gone."

"Sorry," you say, not asking if she meant gone as in left her or gone as in dead.

"No matter," Mrs. Moorland says, "It's nice to know I still got what it takes to drive a young man wild."

"Indeed you do," you say with more feeling than you meant to, "erm...anyways, here I am."

"I can see that," she says, openly looking you over and apparently liking what she sees, "will my ravishing beauty distract you?"

"Maybe," you say sheepishly, "but I can assure you I won't look away."

"Hmmm," she says, guiding you over to her couch, "well, if freedom from distraction isn't an option, perhaps we can use your obvious attraction as a...motivation."

As she says this, she leans forward a bit, her neckline forming a jaw-dropping cleavage, and your cock gives a throb of want.