Hard Lessons

Hard Lessons

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Looking back, I can’t believe it took me so long to realize how smoking hot my tutor was.

Granted, I was massively distracted by the difficulty of the subject I was trying to learn. I had a physics midterm coming up, and if I blew it I was screwed. I needed to pass the course if I wanted to stay in college. My future was hanging in the balance.

My own professor recommended Mandy as a tutor. I was to go to her house twice a week for immersive lessons in this very tough scientific discipline.

She was probably somewhere in her 40s, had an easy manner and was highly intelligent. In those first couple visits, she registered as an attractive woman only in the abstract for me. My brain recorded her well-maintained figure, her nicely mounded breasts, shapely legs and elegant features. But the age gap kept those attributes from arousing me. Stupid me.

In the initial sessions, my mind got overloaded with the material. Momentum, energy, impulse — all those physics principles whirled together into a hopeless mass, and I was in despair. Mandy was quite gentle, pouring tea and trying again and again to talk me through the subject. She obviously had a perfect grasp on what I needed to know, but I seemed incapable of absorbing it.

The third time I was at her place, she finally showed some frustration with me. She’d spent a half hour repeating the same point, and I didn’t get it. Suddenly she slapped her hand hard on the table. The sound was like a gunshot, and I jumped in my chair.

She looked sternly at me, her face a forbidding mask and her eyes as hard as flint. Something strange but powerful stirred in me. My stomach fluttered, and gooseflesh stood up on my arms. Weirder still, the principle she’d been explaining abruptly came full-blown into my mind. I said it back to her, then applied the knowledge flawlessly to a problem.

When she smiled, it was like being given some grand reward. I almost whimpered in pleasure and asked for a pat on the head. That peculiar stirring stayed with me, and only after I left that day did I realize how horny I was. I went back to my dorm and jerked off half the night, with Mandy’s severe-looking face hovering over me in my mind.

After that, I was keenly aware of her stern beauty. What a gorgeous woman she was! I snuck longing looks at her. But I still desperately needed her tutoring.

Now, though, when I got stuck on something Mandy would slap the table to get me focused. I found myself looking forward to those intense demonstrations of emotion. She started to add a few other tricks, talking sharply to me when I got something wrong or making me stand up and apologize for not working hard enough.

Each time she pushed the boundary a little farther, and I got more excited. I had an almost constant hard-on during our sessions. But the approach continued to work. When she was strict with me, I learned better.

I was also aware of how she was looking at me, with a new glimmer in her eyes. She would softly bite her underlip and give me lustful looks. Though we didn’t say anything about it, something strong was building between us.

The attraction was mixed together with my newfound submissiveness. I wanted her to be severe with me. I wanted… wanted… well, I didn’t know what exactly. I’d never had feelings like these before.

One day I eagerly showed up at her house, as arranged. When I entered the unlocked front door, she came into the room and I gasped at the sight of her. My cock stiffened in my jeans, and my jaw dropped.

Mandy was dressed in a tight black blouse, a leather miniskirt, black stockings and high heels. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, giving her a cool but menacing look. She wore sexy librarian glasses and gazed at me with eyes that brimmed with dark eroticism.

She also held an old-fashioned riding crop in her hand.

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