Mrs. Jones' Secret Life

A young man falls in love with his teacher. This story describes his unconventional way of getting past her fears of being caught and destroying her life. We only hear about the affairs that have gone wrong. We never hear about the ones that work, and there are more of them than anyone cares to believe. Affairs between students and teachers are usually short lived, but some can last a lifetime.

Nicholas first noticed Mrs. Jones in his sophomore year of High School, and he became instantly infatuated with her. She was a highly respected, senior-class creative writing instructor. She came from one of the founding families of the community and was a virtuous pillar of society. Independently wealthy, she chose to teach just two or three classes in the morning, leaving her afternoons and evenings free to pursue her other interests. Now in his senior year, Nicholas was finally in her class. His infatuation had become an obsession, and he began flirting with her, which she ignored, at least, for a while. The creative writing got a little out of hand when he wrote a romance story about a student and one of his teachers. Upon reading the story, Mrs. Jones determined that it was uncomfortably close to their relationship. Nicholas eventually discovered that, the above reproach, Mrs. Jones had a secret life. One which, if exposed, would end her teaching career as well as her reputation. Could she trust Nicholas to keep her secret and become her lover?

Excerpt:

She sat there shaken to the core. It was Nicholas. It really was Nicholas, her student. He had emailed her in confidence, having no idea who she really was. No one knew.
Her thoughts and emotions ran the gamut as she tried to process what had just happened and what she was going to do about it.
She was still breathing deeply from the intensity of her orgasm while she tried to compose herself and think. She needed to figure out how she was going to answer him. First, it was obvious that he was pretty talented, if that was truly his work, and she didn’t think that he was the kind of young man that would plagiarize another’s work. Therefore, she felt that he could actually compete in the marketplace, and she certainly didn’t want to do anything to discourage him. Where in the hell did he get all of that experience, she wondered?
She knew what she should do, but she didn’t know if she were strong enough to do it and then have to deal with it later as Mrs. Jones.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said aloud. That pretty well sums it up, she thought. She never drank in the middle of the afternoon, but she was going to make an exception today. She headed for the wine cellar, opened a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and poured herself a glass. She took a long, satisfying sip of the cool wine and walked out to the rear veranda to ponder what her response would be.
As she sipped her wine, she felt the gusset of her panties and realized just how turned on she was. He had done this to her. He had turned a mild-mannered, somewhat conservative erotic writer into a raving, sex-starved lunatic. Now, every time she thought about the large bulge in his pants, it made her squirm and get that certain tingly feeling, down deep within her womanhood, and that was a problem, she thought. Whoever taught him about sex did one hell of a good job, she mused.
“Oh well, what the hell, I’ll just have to deal with it,” she whispered, taking another sip of wine.