The Landlady's Daughter Ch. 02

I have written here once before about Tiffany, who was a young lady who lived in a house where I was a tenant when I first started out as a professor at a small New England College. (See "The Landlady's Daughter" in the Mature category.) This is another story about her.

As I had mentioned in the earlier story, Tiffany was the beautiful 18-year-old daughter of Mrs. Witherspoon, whose husband had died some time ago. In order to keep things going, Mrs. rented out an upstairs room to incoming teachers at the college until they could get settled in more permanent digs. Once I saw young Tiffany, I knew I had to have the room. I know this sounds a little like the plot of an infamous novel, but at least this girl was of legal age and in the last year of high school.

Tiffany was a petite and delicate thing of about five foot four and 105 pounds. She had strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, and her little bush was the same color as her hair. The carpet matched the drapes, in other words. If you read the first story, you'll know how I knew that.

Mrs. Witherspoon worked all day, Tiffany got home from school around 2:30, and thanks to the "friendship" that had blossomed between us, I had enjoyed having sex with her now for about three months, on an average of three—or more—times a week. She was "sexually active" to say the least, but I did manage to take the last of her three cherries (at her request.) And since we had free run of the house while her mother was at work, we did it in a number of ways and in a number of places. She was sexually adventurous and an exhibitionist to boot.

But she also came to me for advice from time to time, and this was one of those times. She entered my room, which was opposite hers on the second floor, in her usual garb of tight-fitting jeans and a thin gray T-shirt. Often at home, she did not wear a bra, and that was the situation in this case. I enjoyed looking at her good "points."

"Mr. Baxter, I need your opinion," she asked. Despite our intimacy, she still liked to call me "Mr. Baxter" rather than by my first name. I was about 20 years older than her.

"Always glad to be of help."

"What do you know about algebra?"

"Nothing."

"I was afraid of that. I'm good at English, History, Social Studies, and French. But I suck at math and chemistry."

"So did I when I was your age."

"I'm getting a passing grade in chemistry, but if I don't do better at algebra, I'm going to flunk that course."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well, the brightest guy in the class is an exchange student from Korea named Kim Huang. I asked him if he would be willing to tutor me after school at my house. I offered to pay him for it even though I don't have much money. But he said he didn't want money, he had plenty of it, since his parents were rich. He said there was something that he didn't have which he really would like."

"And that was?"

"He didn't say. But he looked me over from my feet to the top of my head. It was pretty clear what he had in mind. He said he had never had a date with an American girl—or even a Korean girl. And by 'date', I think I know what he meant."

"Sex?"

"Yes. I don't think he's ever had any."

"A male virgin in other words. So what are you going to do?"

"Well, I don't mind offering some sex for his helping me out, It's not like I'm a virgin. But how much do you think I should offer him?"

"How much do you think?"

"Well, since he's never had it before, I wouldn't mind giving him a nice blowjob and then getting naked and doing you-know-what with him on my bed. I'm on the pill, as you know, but still I don't want to get any diseases."

"Well then, I would insist that he wear a condom. You can tell him to bring one along. That way he knows what he's going to get. You ought to have one handy too, just in case."

"Great idea. One other thing. Since my room's directly across from yours, and I like to leave the door open to circulate the air, and you usually leave your door open when you're reading, I wouldn't mind if you watched."

Knowing Tiffany, I knew that not only would she "not mind", she actually would relish the idea of my watching. Her fondness for exhibition is what first brought her to my attention.

"Don't you think he would be bothered by that?" I asked.

"I'll tell him it's ok, that you're cool."

"Then I would love to watch. He might be a little uneasy about it—but not enough to reject your offer."

"Right. How about tomorrow then?"

"Sounds good."

Tiffany arrived home at her usual time of 2:30 accompanied by a tall and slender young man who obviously was Kim. She took him to the kitchen for a Coke, then brought him upstairs, introduced him to me, and then retired to her room, leaving her door open. I sat down to read—with a clear view into her room.

They spent about two hours sitting on the floor beside her bed and working on algebra. Kim appeared to be quite a good and dedicated tutor.

"That's it," she finally said, standing up. "Time for me to thank you. Did you bring what I told you?"

"Yes."

"Good. You can watch me get undressed then." She crossed her arms, pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it on the bed. No bra as usual. Kim stared at her small but pretty breasts.

"But what about---?"

"Don't worry about him. He never notices anything when he's reading. He won't bother us."

Then she unbuttoned the top of her jeans, pulled down the zipper, pushed them down to her ankles, and stepped out of them. Now she was clad only in white bikini panties and white socks. With a smile, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and slowly pushed them down, revealing her beautiful little bush. Even without being able to see his face, I realized that Kim was transfixed. He probably had never seen a naked girl before—and certainly not one this beautiful.

"You're very beautiful," he said, echoing my thoughts.

"Thank you. Now it's your turn. Undress completely and put your rubber on. We can do it on my bed."

Kim looked around once, and I ducked my head into my reading. Then he turned back and undressed...completely. I could not see the front of him of course, but I assumed his presence was appropriate.

It must have been, since Tiffany dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth. Her talented tongue must have done its trick, since she stood after a minute or two and told him to put on the condom. He pulled it out of the pocket of his pants on the floor and did so. She took him by the hand and led him over to her bed. Then she climbed up on it, and stood up, facing me.

"Lie down facing this way," she said. "I like to be on top."

Not only on top of course but also facing my way. I knew what that was for: my pleasure and torment.

Kim was certainly not one to argue. He knew a wonderful gift when he saw it—and did what he was told.

Tiffany straddled him, sank to her knees, took his member in her two hands and slowly impaled herself on it. Then, after a few moments, she closed her eyes and slowly went up and down on it.

Kim might have been a reflective Asian, but he also was a teenager, and in less than five minutes, he groaned as he tensed and popped into the condom. I could see by her face that it was a little less than satisfying for Tiffany, but still she managed a smile. "Did you like that?" she asked.

"Yes," he groaned.

"So you feel you've been well paid for your help?"

"Yes."

"My mother might be home, soon so I guess we'd better dress, and you'd better leave."

"All right." He got up.

"You can put the condom in my basket."

"All right." He did so and finished dressing, but she stayed naked. "Can I kiss you before I go?" he asked.

"All right."

He stepped forward and kissed her, then stepped back to admire her. "You are a beautiful girl."

"Thank you, but I guess you'd better go now."

"All right." He left the room without looking at me, went down the stairs and left by the front door. Tiffany, still naked, walked casually into my room. "Did you like that?" she asked.

"Yes, it was interesting—and quite arousing. I'm sure he'll regret later that he came so fast. He didn't have to. Your mother won't be home for another hour and a half."

"I know. But I was getting bored. It wasn't that much fun for me. I still feel like I haven't been satisfied."

"I don't know what you could do about that."

"Do you know anyone who could give me an orgasm?"

"Well, I'm a teacher. I could give you a test, and if you pass it, I would give you an orgasm as reward."

"That sounds like a good deal."

I wrote the letter "K" on a tablet beside me and held it up. "What letter is this?" I asked.

"K."

"No it's not. It's an F."

"It is not."

"Is too." I held it up again. "What do you see?"

"K."

I looked at the sign. "Why is it that every time I say 'F', you see 'K'?"

She looked at the sign a moment. "I get it. F-U-C-K. I answered it correctly. So where's my reward?"

More than an hour was left before her mother came time, and we used nearly all of that time, as I made her come three times.

End