Date: Sat, 27 Aug 2016 14:13:21 +0000
From: Andy Brown <andybrown2000@outlook.com>
Subject: Tutoring Dylan - Chapter 1

Tutoring Dylan - chapter 1


Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction which features sexual
activity between a teenage boy and a grown man.  If you do not want to read
such a story, or it is illegal for you to do so because of your age or
where you live, then I recommend you go read something else instead.  The
characters in this story do in fact exist. However, none of the things in
this story have ever happened. Also, clearly to protect the characters, I
have changed their names and some facts about their lives.


***


It had been a long week at work and I was crashed out on the sofa.  Working
in a call centre wasn't the most fun or glamorous job around, but it paid
the mortgage and was a damn sight less stressful than my previous job.

I was munching my way through a pizza and half watching a t20 cricket match
on TV when my phone rang.  No one usually rang on a Friday evening, so I
checked to see who was calling.  It wasn't anyone from my contacts, but I
recognised the area code as it was around where I used to work.

"Hello," I answered.

"Hi.  Is that Mr Brown?" came a woman's voice on the other end.

"Yes."  I was worried for a moment that the use of my surname may mean it's
someone trying to help me claim back PPI that I hadn't taken out.  "Who is
this?" I asked.

"Hi, sorry.  It's Mrs Williams, you used to teach my son Dylan."

Interesting, I thought.  Dylan left the school I used to teach at the year
before I did.  And it was now a year since I'd left the place.  I wondered
what his mum wanted.

"Hello Mrs Williams.  Yes, I remember Dylan.  What can I do for you?"

"This probably seems really weird me phoning you up like this, but we were
hoping you'd agree to tutor Dylan," she replied.

"Yeah, it does a bit.  The tutoring..." I hesitated.  "The thing is I left
teaching nearly a year ago - I'm not really sure I'd be much help these
days.  What is it you want me to tutor him in?"

"Well, the thing is... it's a bit complicated to be honest.  Is there any
chance we could meet with you, to talk about it face to face.  I think that
would be easier."

"Mmmm, I'm not really sure," I replied.  "I've sort of left that part of my
life behind.  I'm sure you could get someone else to do it - maybe George
Maddox or Jane Fielding, they both used to tutor a number of the kids from
school."

"I thought you may say that," Mrs Williams responded.  "But as I said, this
is a complicated situation, and neither George or Jane would be quite
right.  Please.  Just come over one evening.  We can have dinner together,
and then we can talk over the situation."

This sounded very strange.  Both George and Jane were ex-teachers and
experienced private tutors.  I couldn't understand why Mrs Williams was
being so insistent that she wanted me to tutor Dylan.  I ummed and ahhhhed
for a few moments, but in the end my curiosity got the better of me.

"Ok.  I'll come for dinner and a chat."

"Excellent!" she replied with an obvious sound of delight in her voice.
"Can you do one evening next week?"

"Yeah, I suppose so.  How about Wednesday?"

"Wednesday would be great.  That's excellent news!  Dylan will be thrilled!
We'll eat at 7.  See you then."

"Ok.  I presume you're still living in the village?," I questioned.

"Yes.  24 Maple Avenue.  See you Wednesday."

"Thanks.  Bye."

I put my phone down and slumped back in the sofa.  Why on earth did she
want me to tutor her son?  And why would Dylan be so thrilled at me
accepting?  It seemed very strange.  On the one hand I didn't really have
the time or inclination to start tutoring someone, especially someone who
lived so near to where I used to work.  But on the other hand I was
intrigued to find out what this was all about, and I suppose the extra
money would come in handy - plus Dylan was a very cute 11 year old the last
time I saw him; he'd now be 13 and I had my fingers crossed that he'd now
be even cuter.


***


It was Wednesday evening and I was sat in my car outside the house of my
ex-pupil Dylan Williams.  101 thoughts were racing through my mind.  Why
was I here and what on earth was this all about?  I couldn't understand why
Dylan would need a tutor.  When I had taught him two years ago he was
bright and usually worked hard.  By no means was he top of the class (that
was his friend Jack) but he was certainly above average for his age.
Perhaps he'd fallen behind, but he was at a good high school and I'm sure
his new teachers wouldn't have let that happen.  Maybe his parents wanted
to push him so he would get top grades at GCSE?  But his parents weren't
like that, as far as I'd seen over the years.  Sure, I'd only really seen
his dad at parent's evenings but he seemed fairly laid back and was always
just glad to hear that Dylan was doing well and was happy.  His mother I
saw more regularly - particularly when I'd taught Dylan in Year 4 and he'd
had his operation - and she'd always been so cool and calm, a stark
contrast with so many of the other pushy parents at the leafy laned village
school.

And then there was that Mrs Williams had said about it being a "complicated
situation" and how "neither George or Jane would be quite right."  I mean
George and Jane had both been tutoring kids in the surrounding villages for
over 10 years each.  Why on earth did she not consider either of these
suitable.  I suppose Jane may have been out of her depth trying to teach
Year 9 work as she'd mainly specialised in the infants and lower juniors
classes as a teacher, but George had taught both upper primary and in the
old middle schools - surely he'd be perfect.

I thought about starting the car back up and heading back home, but a part
of me was still intrigued about what this could be all about.  And then
there was Dylan.  Even when I'd taught him as a 9 year old in Year 4 he was
cute.  A little taller than average, skinny, with a mop of messy brown
hair, olive tanned skin, and rich brown eyes that I regularly got lost in.
He was often quite a serious lad but when he did smile it used to melt my
heart (and I imagine I wasn't the only one).  When he got changed for PE I
tried to stop myself from staring, but I couldn't help it.  My eyes were
drawn to him.  He had that beautiful olive coloured skin all over (genetics
I think rather than time spent sunbathing) and his body was lithe.  He used
to do a lot of gymnastics and swimming and it showed.  His body wasn't
muscly - a 9 year old shouldn't look that way anyway, in my opinion - it
was thin without being over thin, and taught.  He always wore tight (and
usually brightly coloured) boxer briefs which showed off his little bulge
and hugged his plump rear.  Towards the end of the year Dylan was off
school for a couple of weeks after undergoing a circumcision operation.  I
missed him greatly whilst he was off, and I couldn't help but envy the
doctors and nurses who got to see and handle his young penis.

At the end of that year Dylan moved up into Year 5 and I was moved up to
teach Year 6.  Obviously I still saw Dylan around school but it felt like a
wrench to be away from him.  There were a couple of cute boys in my class
but none were in the same league as Dylan.  Though that didn't stop me from
checking them out as they got changed for PE!

Eventually Dylan moved into Year 6 and it was a wonderful year, though I
did require a huge amount of restraint and self-control to get through it.
Dylan had naturally grown taller and had started to bother more with his
appearance, with his hair usually styled with a little quiff at the front.
His eyes and skin tone remained as beautiful as ever, and there remained
not a hair on his body apart from his head and a light dusting on both his
forearms and lower legs.  I was glad to once again be able to watch him as
he changed for PE, noting how he was still wearing figure hugging boxer
briefs but had traded up from the M&S ones he had worn in year 4 to now
wear Next or Calvin Klein.  His butt had, if anything, become more pert,
and his bulge had definitely grown and continued to do so over the course
of the year.  His thighs and biceps had both become a little bigger, which
was clearly a result of his continued gymnastics work and his newfound
discipline of jogging before school in a morning (which I made it my
mission to find out where he went and at what time, and ensure that I
passed him on my way into work).  His torso was also slightly more
developed with pecs beginning to appear and some definition to his abs.
This I put down to his switch from swimming to diving.

During the year I developed a close bond with Dylan, as often happens with
any class.  Towards the end of the year we began rehearsals for the end of
year musical and Dylan was picked to play the lead part of Tarzan.  We
decided it would be easiest if we got someone to make his costume and I
volunteered to measure him for it, reasoning to the other staff that at his
age he may be embarrassed if a female teacher did the measuring.  It was
the most glorious 10 minutes of the year by far.  I allowed him to remain
fully dressed to start with as we measured his height and his head
circumference (he needed a headdress for one scene).  But for the most
part, I had him strip down to his underwear - a nice pair of black Calvin
Klein's on this particular day.  Naturally I took the opportunity to touch
his 11 year old body as much as possible and took far more measurements
that was necessary.

I started by measuring his neck, which obviously required me to stand very
close to him and crouch down a little so as to be almost face to face (and
lip to lip) with him.  How I found the willpower to resist kissing him,
I'll never know.  Next came his arm span from finger tip to finger tip,
which allowed me to see his armpits which were still smooth as ever.  With
his arms outstretched I was able to inhale that heady mixture of boy sweat
and Lynx bodyspray and by this stage I was hard as a rock.  I then measured
him from armpit to finger tip, discovering that he was rather ticklish in
his armpit area - jeez his boyish giggle was cute.  I also discovered that
he was sweating as my finger came in contact with a moist patch in his
armpit - was it the heat from the late Spring day or the fact that a man
was touching his body that caused this?  I carried on further down, this
time measuring his chest.  My finger 'accidentally' grazed one of his
nipples, and maybe I imagined it but I swear I heard him let out a small
moan.  Going down further I measured his slim waist which was a perfect
combination of being both hard and soft at the same time, before moving on
to measure the distance from the bottom of his neck to his cute innie belly
button.  I then got on my hands and knees to measure from his knee to
ankle, my hand running down the soft downy hair on his calves as I did so.

It was then time to take his inside leg measurement.  I was torn.  I was
very tempted to just stick my hand into his groin with the potential of
feeling his dick and balls, but I knew that if he told anyone then my
career would be over and I'd likely end up in jail.  Instead I decided to
get him to move his equipment out of the way, and perhaps embarrass him at
the same time.  "Dylan?" I said.

"Yes Mr Brown."

"For the next measurement I need to do your inside leg, do you know what
that is?"  He looked confused.  "Do you know where your groin is?" I asked
him.

Dylan's face began to redden.  "Isn't it your...your...private bits?" he
said in almost a whisper.

"Nearly Dylan.  It's the muscle that runs from your 'private bits' as you
say, down the inside of your leg."  I showed him by tracing a line using my
finger on myself.  "To measure your inside leg I need to measure from your
groin all the way down your leg."

Dylan looked at me wide eyed.  "Um ok," he replied.

"So Dylan, obviously I can't touch your private parts."  His face was now
even redder.  "So what I need you to do is hold them to one side so that I
can push the tape measure right into your groin and then measure your
inside leg.  Once I've done one side, then I can do the other."

Dylan visibly gulped, clearly embarrassed that he would have to touch
himself 'down there' in front of a teacher.  "Ok," he meekly responded.  He
then moved his right hand down to his groin and cupped his dick and balls,
pulling them to his right hand side.  They looked like they filled his hand
fairly well.  I took the tape measure between the thumb and first finger of
my left hand, pushing it into his left groin and then let it unravel down
his leg so I could take the measurement.  His groin was warm and a little
damp, and I could feel what I was sure was his ballsac against the back of
my left hand.

"Thanks Dylan," I said once I'd finished measuring.  "Time to do the right
leg now."  With that he let go of his package.  It looked like things were
a bit plumper down there than before.  Was he springing a boner?  Quickly
he cupped his tackle with his left hand and moved it over, allowing me to
measure his right leg and once again brush against his ballsac.  "Ok Dylan,
just one more measurement to do now.  This time I need to do your hips."

"That's fine," Dylan said, looking relieved that it didn't involve his
'private parts' again.  Boy was he mistaken.  I decided to push my luck.

"The thing is...I need to measure your hips without any clothing getting in
the way and affecting the measurement...so..." I left the sentence
unfinished and simply inclined my head down to his underwear.  Dylan caught
my suggestion and looked shocked.

"I...I...I can't..." Dylan said, his voice cracking.  I could see a tear
forming in his eye.  Clearly this was pushing things too far, and the last
thing I needed was for him to run out of the classroom in only his pants
and tell someone I tried to force him to get naked.

"Ok," I said.  "Don't worry."  I put an arm round his shoulder to comfort
him.  "How about you just hitch your boxers down a bit so they're off your
hips but they're still covering you up?"  Dylan didn't reply, he simply
hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pushed them down several inches
until they were clear of his hips.  As he did so his V-lines came into
view, as did a few light brown wispy hairs.  Pushing his boxers down also
had the effect of causing the material to bunch around his penis.  He was
definitely hard and probably about 3 inches long.  I sank back down onto my
knees and took the tape measure in my hands so I could measure around his
hips.  This position forced my head to be positioned directly in front of
his crotch.  I took a deep breath.  The smell was pure boy!  Sweet yet
musty at the same time, sort of like honey mixed with cinnamon.  As I
breathed his scent in and stared at his crotch I almost came, but managed
to control myself.  Once I'd measured his hips, I told him he could get
dressed again and then sent him out to enjoy the rest of lunchtime.
Suffice to say I blew a huge load that evening as I lay on my bed thinking
about what we'd done earlier in the day.


***


There was a knock on the car window and I jumped up with a start, awakened
from my recollections.  I looked up and saw a girl at the window.  Tall,
tanned and with long brown hair.  I thought I recognised her, so I wound
down my window.

"Hi Mr Brown.  It's me Imogen.  Mum thought she saw you parked outside so
she told me to come out and get you."  Of course, it was Imogen, Dylan's
older sister.

"Thanks," I replied.  "Let me just get out".  I closed the window back up,
took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car.  Imogen
walked ahead of me up the drive, giving me the chance to look at her plump
rear which was hugged by the tight shorts she was wearing due to the
sweltering June heat.  I wondered if Dylan's rear would be just as plump.
Stop fooling yourself, I thought.  You're being hired to tutor him.  It's
unlikely you're ever going to see him in his boxers again, never mind
seeing him naked.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as we got to the front door.  Imogen held
it open for me and I noticed she had a peculiar grin on her face.  "Come on
through to the dining room," she said, opening a door to her right.  "Mum
says dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

As we entered the room I looked around.  There was a large round wooden
table in the centre of the room, surrounded by 6 chairs.  The table was
already laid with plates, cutlery and glasses, and there were school photos
on the wall of both Imogen and Dylan, as well as a few whole family shots.
Mr Williams was already sat at the table talking animatedly with Tommy,
their youngest son, who must be about 5 by now.

"Hello Mr Brown," the father said, turning away from Tommy and extending
his hand to me.  "Good to see you."

I took his hand and shook it.  "Thanks Mr Williams.  You too.  And please,
call me Andy.  I'm not a teacher anymore and Mr Brown sounds way too
formal."

"Will do.  And call me Dean.  Dinner won't be long.  Please, take a seat."
I sat down next to Tommy with Imogen sitting next to her dad.

"Would you like a glass of wine...Andy, we've got red or white?"

"No, I'm fine thanks.  I've got to drive home after we've done," I replied.

"Oh, don't worry about that!  I'm sure you'll be here a good while this
evening.  One glass won't hurt.  And you may find it helpful once we've
talked about the tutoring."

Now my mind was in overdrive.  What were they going to ask me to do with
the tutoring?  Why would I need a drink to hear this?  "Fine," I replied.
"A glass of white would be lovely.  It's a bit too warm for red."

Dean went through to the kitchen and returned moments later with a bottle
of white wine and a jug of orange juice.  He poured a small glass of wine
for Imogen, and then poured two large glasses for me and himself.

"Can I have some wine too daddy?" asked Tommy.

"No darling," Dean replied.  "You'll have to stick to orange juice."  And
with that he poured some juice into Tommy's glass.

"But that's not fair.  Why does Imogen get some and I don't," the young boy
whined.

"Because your sister is 15 and you're only 5 that's why."  Tommy still
looked unhappy but took a sip of his juice anyway.  "Imogen, isn't Dylan
down yet?"

"Not yet dad.  I think he's still trying to make himself look good for our
guest," she replied to her father, with a wink.

What was that all about?  Why is Dylan trying to make himself look good for
me?

"Well, tell him to get himself down here.  Your mum'll be serving up
anytime soon."  Imogen went back into the hallway and I could hear her
footsteps as she bounded upstairs.  "So Andy, I presume you must be a bit
confused about what we've asked you here for?"

"Just slightly.  Your wife said something about Dylan needing a tutor but
that it was a 'complicated situation'.  So what is it you're wanting?" I
asked.

"All in good time Andy.  Let's say we eat first, and then we discuss the
tutoring afterwards."

I was about to object and ask him to tell me now when Mrs Williams walked
in from the kitchen carrying a couple of serving dishes and placing them
down on the table.  One had a green salad in it, the other some steaming
hot lamb chops.  "I'll be back in a minute," she said, dashing off into the
kitchen before returning with two more dishes.  This time she had mini
potato rostis in one and what looked to be homemade coleslaw in the other.

"Wow, Mrs Williams!" I said, staggered at the food she'd brought out.
"Thanks, this looks great."

"My pleasure.  And call me Sandra."

"Great, and please call me Andy."

"Well you may as well tuck in," Sandra said.  "And can you pour me a glass
of wine Dean?" she asked her husband as she sat down opposite Tommy.

"Shouldn't we wait for Imogen and Dylan to come down?" I asked.

"Don't be silly," replied Dean.  The way those two wolf it down, we'd be
best starting without them - that way we might all get something to eat
too!" he chuckled to himself.

With that I started to spoon food onto my plate and then picked up my
cutlery and began to eat.  Imogen soon came back into the room and began to
spoon mounds of food onto her plate (the appetite of teenagers, eh?) and
within moments the door opened again and in walked Dylan.  And my, what a
sight to behold he was!


***


And so ends the first chapter.  I hope you liked it.  This is my first time
writing on Nifty and so any feedback would be greatly appreciated -
andybrown2000@outlook.com