The Naughty Virgin

By: Cassandra Dee

And that made me color because Homecoming had been awesome, I’d had an unforgettable session with my kumquat in the privacy of a darkened hallway, spilling my juices while moaning to the high heavens. And the juiciest part was that I’d been fantasizing about Mr. Phillips the entire time. Yep, my unsuspecting biology teacher had no idea that he’d been the source of an ecstasy-driven orgasm, a little fruit mixing with his handsome face to bring me to heaven again and again. So I bit my lip and looked around … and found Mr. Phillips staring at me, eyes knowing and warm like he could read my mind.



Evie was downright gorgeous, shy but an absolute stunner. She was curvy everywhere, with big boobs, a round ass, and wide, swinging hips that made my mouth water and she walked towards me.

Because how could I not notice? The brunette was nothing like the silly ditzes who threw themselves at me all the time. Take Kim for example. The blonde thought she was so sexy with her long golden hair and huge tits, but it was actually kind of gross because the hair was way too long, she was practically Rapunzel at this point, ready to hoist someone up to her window. And the tits? Kim was the proverbial tits on a stick, a huge set of D’s bolted onto a scrawny body.

Because I hated that look. It was popular with some guys, sure, an underweight skeleton accessorized by huge gazongas, but that wasn’t me. I like fleshy and real, a juicy ass to grab, huge handfuls of breast, and chunky thighs to bite into. So Kim was borderline gross in my world view, made all the worse because she sat up front each day, batting her eyelashes my way.

But the girl I really wanted to know had just made things easy for me. Evie stood nervously by my desk, her hands crossed in front of her, shy and ducking her head, that mass of glorious brunette curls distracting me. What would it feel like to run my hands through the shining fall, wrap a strand or two around my dick? But I shook myself. I was getting ahead of myself.

“So,” I began casually, leaning back in my chair. “I hear you’re aiming to take the AP exam at the end of the year.”

“Um yeah,” she said, biting her lip, her cheeks slightly pink. “But it’s not because your class is bad or anything, Mr. Phillips. It’s because I’m learning so much that I figured I might be able to pass the exam with just a little extra studying.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“Just a little extra?” I asked. “The AP exam is really tough and my class is regular biology, not advanced placement. How are you going to pass that thing, much less get a five?” A five was the highest score you could get.

“Well,” Evie said, looking hesitantly at me. “My parents have offered to spring for a tutor. Sort of,” she corrected. “I have to pay for some of the sessions myself.”

My eyebrows raised again.

“Biology tutors don’t come cheap,” I rumbled casually. “A colleague of mine tutors on the side but it’s a hundred fifty bucks a pop. That’s a hundred fifty bucks per hour,” I stressed.

And the beautiful girl’s face fell.

“Oh I didn’t realize,” she mumbled, looking down. “I thought it would be fifteen dollars an hour, maybe twenty. My family can’t afford a hundred fifty, not even if I chip in because we’re working class and my parents are already stretching their budget to send me to Spencer. So I guess it’s not going to happen,” she concluded, embarrassed, looking down.

I was silent for a moment before speaking again.

“Well,” I said smoothly, “I’d like to help. How about if I tutor you? Say some extra sessions after school until you take the test?”

The brunette’s eyes flew open, the caramel pools so warm and hopeful that I almost drowned in the molten chocolate.

“Oh would you?” she breathed. But then she paused, a little confused. “But why? I don’t get it, you won’t get anything out of tutoring me.”

I kept my expression impassive.

“That’s not true,” I corrected gently. “It reflects well on me if a student of mine takes an advanced exam and passes with flying colors. It speaks to my effectiveness as an instructor, and maybe,” I shrugged, “they’ll consider it when it comes to reviews.”

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