Miss Weaver & Me

Miss Weaver & Me

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Summary

Years after a romantic encounter with a beautiful school teacher, a hotel manger discovers she is staying at his hotel. Should he approach her? Would she remember him? What will happen? Read on...

Summary

Years after a romantic encounter with a beautiful school teacher, a hotel manger discovers she is staying at his hotel. Should he approach her? Would she remember him? What will happen? Read on...

Content

Submitted: January 22, 2017

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Content

Submitted: January 22, 2017

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MISS WEAVER AND ME


At first, I simply could not comprehend how she had failed to recognised me! I had stood right in front of her as she had entered the hotel and, not a flicker! No quizzical look, no moment of hesitation, nothing! Had I changed so much?
She certainly hadn’t. Time had been very good to her; no longer the young fresh faced woman I had known, now, she was a woman who had blossomed, matured and had taken good care of herself over the years. I’d recognised her straight away. I say that, but, truth to tell it felt like more I’d run into a brick wall very fast! Then, cartoon like slid down it into a heap.
My mind had momentarily completely rejected the reality before me. And yet, there she was. Just to be sure I ran a check through the hotel computer confirming everything, Doctor Karen Weaver of Sydney University (she’d come a long way since I’d last seen her) was guest speaker at the education conference taking place in the seminar hall over the next two days. Two days! That was all I had. What should I do? Part of me said: “Forget it. It’s the past and that is where it should remain.” Yet, the rest of me urged me on. I knew if I did nothing I would regret it for the rest of my life. What was it Alexander the Great had once said? Something like: “Fortune favours the bold.”
I exited the lift on the third floor she was staying in room One thirty six just three doors down the hall; it might as have been three hundred. The short walk seemed like an eternity, the hall lights seemed so much brighter, sweat seeped out in torrents under my armpits and forehead, my heartbeat was deafening. Before I knew it the door was before me, pulling the handkerchief from my pocket I dabbed my forehead then rapped on the door. It opened and there she stood.
 ‘Good evening Doctor Weaver I’m the hotel manager may I come in?’
‘Please do,’ she replies opening the door. I step inside and she shuts it then turns to me.


‘I’m sorry for the intrusion doctor I just wanted to come by and welcome you personally, ensure the room is to your satisfaction and, apologise it appears my receptionist failed to ensure you received your conference pack.’
As I speak I’m taking in every inch of her very curvy form. She was never very tall about five feet five/six, that hadn’t changed. Nor had the long dark hair I found so sensuous all those years ago; it hung loose down just past her shoulders. The cream blouse seemed to define her ample curves; or as I used to call it, "the clingy, curvy look." The buttons were unfastened just enough to show a little cleavage and there, calling out to me like an old friend was that little dark mole on her right breast. How it had fascinated me back then. How many times had I stroked it, kissed it and sucked it, along with every other part of her? The dark skirt hugged her hips showing off her perfect form; my god she was stunning! Suddenly, I had finished speaking.
‘Thank you for your courtesy,’ she replies smiling. ‘I’m very pleased to be here and the room is excellent and your staff ensured I received my seminar materials.’ She states and gestures to the bed where her conference pack lay sprawled out on the duvet. ‘Now, if there is nothing else I’ve had a very long journey.’ In a moment my entire pretext for being here has been blown out of the water. I nod, bid her good night and make to leave.
I literally stop short of the door, rooted to the spot, my heart is racing. ‘You.’ I pause, the pain within is intense! ‘You really don’t recognise me, do you Karen?’ My back is to her as I speak. There is a long moment of silence, I feel my voice shake as I speak. ‘I know, I know it’s been a while, almost 25 years! But have I really changed so much?’ I turn slowly round, coming face to face with her. I see the questioning look, the confusion, then, her eyes dart to my name badge  then to me, then to the name badge. Shock registers!  Her eyes widen, mouth open, then a smile, a wide beaming smile. Before I can say anything she is on me her arms around my neck, her lips upon mine, her body melting into me, her perfume pervades my senses, so intoxicating. In an instant I am regressed 25 years to that first kiss, that very first kiss! And everything that followed.

To this day I don’t know why she chose me. I wasn’t anything to speak of, seventeen years old, skinny, two left feet, useless at sports, always the one that was chosen last; quiet, shy, greasy haired and having a hell of time of puberty. I didn’t much like school, was an average student and held my own in most classes except maths! My favourite of all was History, I found myself immersed in the past, my own interest being that of ancient Greece and Rome. I had excelled in it and my teacher had encouraged me to pursue it further. So, I had gone to the sixth form and started to study O levels in order that I could get into college and then University. It was the last class of the day and first History lesson of the new term we sat expectantly waiting for our tutor, a Miss Weaver. No one had heard of her before, must be new. The door opened and in she walked. Time stopped, literally stopped. She just seemed to freeze in the doorway as if the pause button had been hit on a video machine. I took in every inch of her and felt myself instantly harden inside my trousers. Never before (or since) have I had such a reaction to a woman.  She wasn’t that tall, but had a figure and half. Long Raven black hair that hung loose down just past her shoulders, a beaming white smile, slender neck, the light blue blouse hugged every curve leaving little to the imagination, including quite prominent (or so it seemed to me) nipples poking through the thin material of her blouse. She was not large in the breast department, but then, nor was she small either. She was, what I would later call her: "Perfectly proportioned." The pencil skirt hugged her gorgeous hips and came just below her knees; ending with a pair of dark shoes. In sum she was a beauty.
The pause was released and she slowly glided through the room towards her desk. To this day the closest I can articulate this vision was akin to Cate Blanchet as the Elf Queen in the Lord of the Rings films. She just seemed to glide gracefully across the class room smiling, her left hand brushing back that long dark hair. Her eyes scanning the class and finally locking with me; for a moment I thought I was mistaken. But no, she locked her gaze with mine then turned away. Miss Weaver was to be our History tutor for the next year, hailing from Sydney, Australia I was immediately captivated by her soft voice and that accent, that exotic accent (well it was to me, here was a woman from the other side of the world!) She was gentle and patient but exceptionally knowledgeable and I found myself drawn to her on so many levels. In one lesson she was sitting quietly at her table while we made notes from the black board. I couldn’t help but watch her. In an instant my eyes just zoomed in on her gorgeous firm mounds like a camera close up, watching them slowly rise and fall. Rise and fall. Rise and…


‘Andrew! Andrew! Are you staring at my tits?’ I sit bolt upright wrenched back to the real world with a mixture of surprise and horror at being caught so blatantly. Then glance around expecting the whole class to be staring accusingly at me, laughing and snickering at my absolute embarrassment and humiliation. But they continue to scribble oblivious to what is going on.
‘Andrew!’ Her soft voice whispers. I turn towards her she is standing in front of me and leans forward showing a very generous fantastic up close view of cleavage; I almost come in my trousers. ‘Were you staring at my tits?’ She whispers seductively.
‘Y, Yes miss.’ I stutter. She smiles again then strokes my hair gently.
‘You know that’s highly inappropriate don’t you?’ She coos still stroking my hair.
‘Y – yes, miss.’ I stutter again, wanting to add "So is shoving your fantastic tits in my face."  Not that I’m complaining.
‘Andrew!’ I look up from my notes straight into her eyes. Then glance around, the class is empty! Hurriedly I pack my bag and make to leave. As I move I feel her hand upon my arm, I look up she is smiling.
‘I, I have to go Miss.’
‘Yes of course, but would you help me put some stuff away first?’ She replies her voice almost a whisper.’
 I nod and leaving my bag on the table and follow her over to her desk, then lift and carry a box of books to the store cupboard.
I place the box on a shelf turn and find her standing close to me, very close. In-fact! She thanks me for helping her, I mumble something like that’s OK and make to go. Her hand brushes mine and I shiver at her touch, it’s like an electrical current shooting through me. ‘Andrew.’ I freeze at the sound of my name it’s gentle and seductive the way she says it.’
‘Yes Miss.’
‘Do you like me?’ I’m speechless at the question. How do I answer it?’
‘Yes Miss, you’re a great teacher,’ I reply almost stuttering. ‘I really enjoy your lessons.’
‘No!’ She says almost in a whisper. ‘I asked, do you —  like me?’
‘Yes Miss, very much.’


 She is standing barely a few feet from me I can smell her perfume, so sweet it’s almost intoxicating, her breasts are heaving; her nipples are poking through the blouse quite prominently. Her blouse is unbuttoned a bit lower than earlier showing some cleavage and a very lovely little mole on her right breast. I realise I am staring at her fantastic tits and look up straight into her eyes. She smiles, she knows I was staring at them. How could she not? Taking my right hand gently she places it on her left breast. For a moment I think I’m back in a daydream. Then realise this is NO daydream, this is for real!


 I open my mouth to speak; she gently places a finger to my lips. ‘Shh it’s OK, a girl likes to be touched, that’s it, gently, feel, don’t grope,’ It’s like my most amazing fantasy come to life, she coaches me how to touch her, to stroke her nipple gently with my thumb, brushing it ever so gently, then making circular motions. I can feel the nipple become harder and more erect. Then she takes my other hand and tells me to do the same to the other breast. In no time both nipples are hard and erect.


‘Now unbutton my blouse,’ she whispers. I try but my hands are shaking, with excitement. My trousers are straining to keep the massively hard rod within, I’m a trembling mess. She takes my hands gently then kisses me. The electric surges through my body, my eyes close and feel myself begin to calm. The panic, the maelstrom of nerves and excitement within seem to slowly vanish. We continue to kiss for what feels like eternity, but when she pulls away I feel centred and calm within.
‘Now, unbutton the blouse,’ she whispers, ‘don’t look down, look at me.’ Staring into her eyes I begin to slowly unbutton the blouse, she smiles. ‘That’s good, a girl loves being undressed,’ Her blouse opens revealing a very sexy white silk bra. Miss Weaver reaches up and with a light click unhooks the front of her bra, pulling the cups open to reveal her gorgeous breasts. Then she takes my hands and has me touch them just as before. They are warm and firm, her skin so very soft. She has me squeeze a nipple between my thumb and forefinger. A very slow even pressure that makes her moan and quiver. ‘That’s it, gently squeeze, always gently, a girls loves to be touched, not grabbed, pleasure her and pleasure yourself through touching her.’


Next she tells me to kiss a nipple, I do then, gently lick it, she moans with pleasure, then she tells me to suck it and lick it. It feels a bit awkward at first but I quickly get it, then I’m doing the other nipple and begin to alternate. Then the breast, I begin to kiss the right one, lick, suck gently, particularly the mole on her right breast, it excites me. I so love that mole. It is her, that special part of her.


Next she shows me how to unfasten her skirt it slips down her slender legs to reveal white silk panties and stockings, the stay up type. I’m throbbing in my trousers almost about to burst out and explode my load. Deftly she unfastens my zip and takes out my throbbing rod. I almost come at her touch. She applies a squeeze and has me take deep slow breaths to calm myself. Amazingly it works and she releases her grip then gently starts stroking, I start to throb again and again she applies the squeeze. She giggles, ‘My we are a bundle of raging hormones aren’t we?’
I don’t answer, I can’t; I’m so aroused by her.


She moves back and sits on a table slips her panties down revealing her shaved slit opens her legs and has me step forward rubbing the tip of my iron rod against her. It only lasts a few seconds as her legs wraps around my waist and gently push me inside her. It is a curious sensation at first there is resistance a feeling of tightness for a second I’m not sure I will be able to fit and then, in a split second I am sliding deep inside her, tight but very wet and then I am right inside. She grips me tight. It feels so natural to be inside her and equally so to start thrusting back and forth. Slow and gentle. She moans with pleasure, tells me to speed up, slow down, go harder but slower. It’s amazing! No fantasy could ever be like this, or ever even touch it. Soon I am going faster and harder. Then faster still, she grips me with her legs then her arms are griping me tight as I pound harder. She stiffens and I feel her convulse, over and over. Her nails dig into my neck and back. My world implodes within before exploding in a torrent without. I literally cannot hold back and explode within her.


Then she remains still for what seems like ages before relaxing, and releasing me. I stagger back, my rod dripping with her juices and my cum. She pulls some wipes from her bag and cleans me up, before dressing quickly, then it is done, I head off home and spend that evening laying on my bed reliving that amazing moment together.
I was sworn to secrecy and honoured it. After all why would I not? With the promise of many further encounters, each even more amazing than the one before. We became lovers. Miss… I mean Karen as she insisted on being called outside of class was the most patient teacher a boy, now a man could have.


For the next seven months she taught me in and out of the class room, before the time came when she had to return home. She promised she’d write and that we’d be together soon. But it was not to be. She flew back to Australia and everything went quiet. Days became weeks, weeks became months and months -- became years. It took a long time but I moved on, had jobs and relationships, but nothing, nothing compared to the sheer magic that Karen and I had, had.
Then all these years later and here she was!


I awoke with Karen sleeping on top of me. It had all happened so quickly from that recognition, to her arms around my neck, the kiss, the perfume and her melting into me. We kissed and touched and then I had just scooped her up in my arms laid her out on the bed and we had made love. Her seminar materials and other bits on the bed just went flying. Her blouse flew open as I tugged it apart, buttons flying everywhere then the front opening bra that she favoured  was deftly unlatched and there, were her gorgeous tits all waiting for me and that sexy mole on the right one. Then off came the skirt and the panties and I was inside her, it felt just as amazing as it did all those years ago.


It was against hotel policy to fraternise with guests but I didn’t care. For the rest of her stay we spent time together, caught up and made passionate love. Then all too soon it was over, the seminar, us -- everything!


Karen had to return home. She couldn’t stay any longer. I couldn’t let her go. Not again. I had this fear if I did, that history would repeat itself. But what else was there to do?


I saw her to the airport, kissed her deeply then saw her on the plane and watched it leave. And with it, the only woman I had ever truly loved.


As I watched the plane vanish I resolved that this was not going to end.

Ultimately, it didn’t take long to arrange. The answer was simple. I moved to Australia. Finding a job wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Getting the visa was what took the time. I found a lovely little apartment not far from where she lived.


That first evening she came round…


Well, now that would be telling.
 


© Copyright 2017 Gerard Peters. All rights reserved.

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