Tutoring Miss Picket – Her POV

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Holley Picket’s maturation story begins as an infatuation with her high school algebra teacher. It becomes sexual at eighteen with some classmates, then blooms into family incest with her parents once they are aware of her sexual awaking. Her chance encounter with an elderly shut-in rekindles her fondness for her former teacher. Sexual activities included are: intercourse, oral sex, bondage, edging, dad/mom/Holley, Holley/Professor, and light touching of Holley/elderly shut-in.

This version parallels the Tutoring Miss Picket first story-line told from the professor’s point of view. Reading that version first will give you a good sense of the professors attributes, but this version can be read as a stand-a-lone without loss of continuity.

Please, please remember to take a moment and rate this story for me!



The word tumbled ever-so-quietly out of my mouth, like tail over teakettle in my turbulent mind, as I uttered the curse while just blankly staring at the last exam question. Fifteen points! This is going to kill my grade point average for the semester! I’d probably wind up on the B honor roll instead of the A-B honor roll for the last grades of the year. I’d chewed up my eraser and was working on gnawing the yellow off of my number two pencil as I tried to conjure up an answer – it just would not – come – out – of – my – head!

Look! I know that you know ‘shirt’ isn’t a curse word, but my mom doesn’t allow me use ‘that other word’ because I’m not eighteen, so ‘shirt’ will have to do – what! You think that’s ‘shirty’ of my mom to limit my vocabulary BEFORE I turn eighteen? Well, welcome to my ‘forking’ world, sugar!

“Problem, Miss Picket?”

I found myself jolted out of my agonizing, mental rant and looked up to see Doctor Von Goethe and two or three others staring in my direction. I just realized ‘Shirt!’ had escaped out of my internal dialogue and into the real world of the ninth-grade final algebra exam. I felt the simmering in my cheeks and could imagine them seeing my face bloom pink with embarrassment.

“No, sir, Doctor Von Goethe, sir.” I managed to whisper so as not to disturb the remainder of the classroom and put my head back down trying to look as though I was working the problem. I could feel the beginnings of tears starting to pool in my eyes, but I succeeded in keeping the water drops from cascading down my eyelids, just barely. The clock said five minutes to finish. Biting my lower lip, I knew the answer wasn’t coming. And I was sure the passengers on train A and on train B didn’t know the answer either! They wouldn’t care! So that’s what I wrote: ‘I don’t think it matters to the people in the trains where they pass each other, just as long as they are on different tracks – that’s all they would be concerned about!’ Putting my pencil down, I closed my frigg’n mind to algebra for the last time!

I spent the last five minutes wondering how I found myself so infatuated with a man with a magical name like Doctor Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe. It was so – magical – like a prince from the middle ages. I was certain he felt the same way about me as well. I knew, because he always addressed me as Miss Picket or Miss Holley Picket so frequently. I just knew he loved the way my name rolled off his tongue when he called roll. That wonderful, delightful European accent would send tingles to my soul every time he spoke my name. I could have stayed in his classroom for hours just watching him glance over at me with that warm smile. And the way he always came down my row to check on answers – always, well almost always, stopping to edit my work. I could tell he loved me – he just couldn’t show it with all the others in the room.

Coming back to school in the fall for tenth grade, I didn’t have any more classes with Dr. Von Goethe. He only taught one beginning math class and all the others were about – somethings much higher than train A and train B passing one another. I knew I had reached the end of the line and had to get off when my train pulled into the last algebra station. Math was not for me. But that didn’t keep me from going to look in on him the first day back to school as I passed his room to read that magical name, Doctor Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe for the first time this year.

It was a shock; a jolt of reality; and with much dismay that he wasn’t in his room. His name had been replaced by another commoner’s name placard. I found out from the office clerk that my doctor had retired. He left, never having kissed me, and left a hole in my heart for the remainder of my time at Barrington’s Center for Advanced Knowledge.


By the middle of twelfth grade and turning eighteen, the hole in my heart had healed, quite a bit, but there were some fleeting memories rolling around in my head about my unrequited love, Johann. He remained always a gentleman in my mind, unlike the fuck heads that pass me in the hallway nearly every day. A few continued to make snide remarks about gölbaşı escort my late blooming tits needing their attention or making under breath comments about giving me, in the back seat of their Daddy’s car, what my pussy really needed. I grew tired of the harassment and stopped that shit, promptly, but not as quietly as I had planned.

‘How,’ you ask?

I gave Charles Anderson, the two-hundred-twenty-pound weight lifter and my art class partner, my virginity in exchange for pounding the shit out of three major football assholes who constantly harassed me. Charlie let them know that there would be more ass pounding if he got wind of any more shit from them coming my way. When they reappeared in school two days later, battered and bruised, somehow word got around as to how that happened and magically my harassment stopped. It wasn’t just solely a cold utilitarian action or a quid pro quo thing on my part, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had some ‘girl feelings’ for Charlie as well. It was, admittedly, also a case of a girl has an itch that needs a scratch in the snatch sort of feeling, that fingers and vibrators just couldn’t resolve satisfactorily. So, yeah, I was an evolving woman with raging hormones trying to figure out what sex was about and Charles Anderson eagerly obliged me by fulfilling both my objectives single-handedly.

It’s not like I was using Charlie as a fuck stick – okay, yeah it was somewhat like that. But he was okay with it and never told his girlfriend about our short-term relationship. We stayed friends and when he needed some comfort that Jennie wasn’t available for, I helped out. And with my virginity issue taken care of, I branched out to other boys, although it took some convincing for them to finally believe that Charlie won’t show up at their doorsteps, unless I sent him.

There was also some new development at home when I turned eighteen that further enlightened my concepts of familial love. Eventually my mom found out about my sexual activities; they always do don’t they? Naturally, she told Dad. Surprisingly, he wasn’t as jacked out of shape about it as I thought he might be. That evening, I reached a new level of enlightenment as we had ‘the talk’ about family values.

I knew my Dad had been a 747 pilot, flying the overseas legs from Los Angeles to Hong Kong and other places in that direction. That’s where he met Mom. She was a stewardess on a flight he was deadheading out of Singapore. I just didn’t know the details of their union.

“Holley,” Dad said, as he kind of cleared his throat, “We’re not condemning what you did, but you have got to be careful about who and how you have sex with others. Your mom and I, truthfully now, were about the same way. She was on break on that flight and small talk led to – sex in the plane between us. They call it joining the mile high club.”

“You, two, screwed on the plane!” I found myself giggling at the thought of them doing the nasty surrounded by sleeping people.

“Yes, we did. And we have experimented with a few other couples over the years, so we know where that can get troublesome. Sometimes, it’s better to just keep that sort of activity in the family and not wander too far out into un-tested waters.”

It took a few minutes to absorb the idea that my parents were experimenters. I knew they were into fantasy and costume play because of our studio. Ever since I was a kid, we always had costumes and would put on plays in the basement studio while Mom or Dad filmed the stage plays I created or they created with me. It was great fun! As I grew older, I saw some things in the costume closets that looked a bit weird and that I never saw used when I did films with them, but I didn’t give it much thought at the time. Now, a lightbulb was starting to brighten. Those were costumes for times when I wasn’t around – sex scenes! My thoughts were tingling at what those might be.

“You two also experimented with other people? Like sex with somebody else?” My eyes popped open as I asked for a better definition of what they just admitted to doing.

“Honey, it was a long time ago. Yes, we had other couples, sometime two or maybe six and we went kind of crazy sometimes.” Mom replied as she scooted next to me – kind of closeness for emotional support, I guess. Dad slid next to her. I could tell he was looking a bit embarrassed about admitting this to me.

“And I suppose that with so many, you two were not just having sex with each other, right?” I tried to keep an even face, without letting the grin I was hiding slip out in mid-question.

“Sometimes, but with that many people we did share each other. Sometimes we all did each other.” Dad responded.

“How does that work?” I asked, trying to picture how six couples could be doing each other.

“Holley, that’s hard to explain,” my Mom stammered. “Well, for instance, the women could form a circle with their arms interlocked and facing outward. The men would form keçiören escort another outside circle and – well ‘insert penis into cunt’ for a few quick strokes, pull out and rotate to the next lady. They would keep going, to music usually, until the guys couldn’t keep a stiffie any longer. There are a lot of variations on how the circles can be formed.”

“Honey, it would probably be easier if you just showed Holley some of the videos. Then she could see how it works out,” Dad interjected when he saw my still puzzled look.

“You filmed them?” I gasped. But then quickly realized that the studio must have been made for that purpose. It was no wonder there were multiple cameras mounted on the walls! It was an orgy room – not just my playroom!

Mom just looked at Dad, then at me, then said, “Okay, let’s go have a look if you really want to see how that goes.” With that, Dad took my hand, as though I was a five-year-old on my first field trip, and we walked down to the basement studio.

Mom searched for a group video on the storage drive and pulled up a daisy-chain of prancing men going round about a circle of naked women, then stepping forward to music to drive their cocks into the women’s pussies and out again to a lot of giggles, moans, and open mouth movements as the dicks found their targets. Fucking awesome views of so many naked people together enjoying what must have been a Roman orgy style party. Then I noticed Dad coming around the circle with his cock flexing and pointing straight out like an arrow. It was the first time I’d seen his cock with a hard-on. My gasp was loud, as my eyes popped opened in surprise.

“Dad! That’s you!”

“Yeah … Like what you see, Holley?” I head Dad’s husky voice ask as he watched my mouth spring open in amazement.

“Dad!” I gasped, “I wasn’t expecting to see you like that. I mean so – naked and hard!”

“Ha, ha, hah!” Mom chuckled, “Baby, you wanted to see a video of it. What did you expect to see your Dad with clothes on and everyone else butt-naked?”

“And you Mom?” I asked still staring at the film, “Where are you?”

“There, there I am! My back is to the camera in this scene,” she pointed to herself. But my focus was on the man in front of her with a wild looking smile as he danced forward and drove his cock into her. I could see her head draw up as he lunged into her like a dog in heat – I guess is the expression you would use – although I never saw a dog in heat – but if one looked like this guy, well then there was some really wild shit going around in that circle!

“Guess, I should have expected this, huh?” I managed to get out my comment in a croaky whisper as I continued watching the dancing group picking up the pace as the music’s tempo increased. I kept my eye on Daddy as he danced his way around the circle. Clearly, he liked it!

“So, Mom, what does ‘… keep that sort of activity in the family and not wander too far out into untested waters,’ mean then?” I finally snapped back to the last curious remark Mom made before we descended into the basement studio.

Dad’s firm grasp on my hand was still there as he gently tugged my hand toward his pants in response to my question. As he held my hand there, I could feel the heat from his boner radiating through his taunt pant leg. Watching the video with me clearly was affecting him. Me too! I looked down at my hand as he gently released it. I knew he expected me to take hold of the snake bulging within his pants. My glance at Mom’s smiling face, as she watched my hand on his leg, told me that she was okay with what was going on as well. So, I did it; I clutched the bulge through his pants. It was firm, and the heat radiating through the pant leg was remarkably hot!

“Sugar, your Daddy and I want you to feel free to ask us about anything or ask us to show you anything you want to see. Even share with you, if you are comfortable enough. You know we want to keep you safe as long as you are new at experimenting with what your body wants to know, to enjoy it without suffering any anxieties. For instance, when you were out with one of those boys, didn’t you frequently have the feeling that maybe he wouldn’t treat you well after he fucked you, or maybe, you were even afraid of being caught in the backseat – in flagrante delicto!”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure about the flagrante delicto stuff!” I responded, never having heard that expression “But now that you mention it, I did feel some apprehension about getting caught when I was screwing Charles Anderson on a weight bench in the school gym! I had the feeling that someone was watching us the whole time. That night wasn’t so enjoyable!”

Dad’s light chuckle was quickly followed by his reassuring voice, “Holley, here, you could experience the way your body wanted to feel that day and more without those worries – it’s safe here, unimpeded. We can start or stop whenever you want. We want to help guide you through anything you want to experience. ankara escort You know, sugar, we have your wellbeing uppermost in our minds.”

‘Of course, I know that! They’ve always huddled over me, making sure I was protected and … safe, too!’ I found myself mentally agreeing with his sentiments.

As he spoke, his hand glided up from my knee, coming to rest on my inner thigh. I felt the warmth of his hand and the tingle of my nerve ending firing up as his fingertips stroked me so gently. At first, I had felt a strangeness about it; kind of like stranger danger sensations. It had started with Daddy holding my hand upstairs. Then again as we sat on the couch, while he touched my inner thigh. His calm, soothing voice assured me I was safe, almost as if we were on a date and his intent was on getting into my – wait! – was this leading to a third date expectation level? Really!

Mom had moved to sit next to me as Daddy soothingly spoke to me with many reassurances. Her smile mirrored a look I had seen many times before. It was my own lusty look as I strummed my body to orgasm while I lay splayed out, watching myself in the mirror propped up at the foot of my bed. My mind was having trouble focusing on his words. My head was on a swivel, looking from left to right and back again. Between my Dad speaking to me as his fingers stroked my thigh; my sensing the twitch of his hot cock in my firm grasp; and turning to look into my mother’s own look of rapture as her hand slid up to rest on my other inner thigh; I couldn’t easily process the sensations coursing through my body. The fact that I had chosen a miniskirt and had forgone panties today wasn’t helping to slow down the situation, at all!

“It’s okay, sugar, you are safe,” Daddy whispered as his hand glided higher, up and inward.

“It’s okay, Holley, we can stop whenever you want to. Just say the word,” Mom’s voice seemed to be floating through my brain as I closed my eyes and let the touch of their experienced hands create a growing sense of euphoria coursing through my blood stream. The air around me was growing warmer. I could feel my perspiration forming a glistening sheen on my forehead. I felt a little lightheaded as my breathing quickened.

‘Say the word … what word?’ I found myself thinking as their fingers flowed up and down my thighs.

In response to those wonderous hands lightly caressing my legs, my head titled backward of its own accord. Its weight pulling me back against Daddy’s arm as it snaked around my neck. In between his gentle assurances, his fingers had found time to multi-task as they homed in on my stiffened, strawberry nipple. The tip of his forefinger traced circles around it through the fabric. God! This was beginning to feel really good! Way better than teasing it with my own fingers.

Lost in the pleasure of his touch, I hadn’t felt Mom’s spare hand drawing up my tee shirt, allowing Daddy’s fingers better tactile access to my begging nipple. But when his fingers did touch down, as he rolled my nipple between his fingers, it sent a shockwave roaring through my body. My cunty lunged forward, bucking against their swirling fingers as they glided up and down my slit.

‘Fuck! This was getting better by the moment!’

Mom took that jolting opportunity to lock her lips around my other nipple and claim ownership of it! And now nearly every one of my pleasure buttons had something pressing it, kneading it, or sucking it unendingly. My breathing was growing louder as the buzz from my Dad’s voice just faded away. His words were replaced by the undulating, tingly sensations flowing through my tightening thigh muscles. In my hip bucking movements, Daddy had helped to slid my mini-skirt up above my cunty. Then unhindered, their experienced fingers slowly followed the curvature of my naked mons until each one had a finger gingerly probing my clitoral hood and teasingly nudged it back and forth to expose the raw nerve endings of my clit to those – just so good touches. My nipples were sending messages of joy to my mewling quim and my pussy was sending raving messages back up my neuropathways at how good it felt down there, too!

I knew, at that moment, we had just reached the point where there would be no ‘saying the word.’ Between the two of them, they had my body wound up like a concerto’s frenzied movements. There was no more apprehension, no more doubt about what I wanted. What my body wanted to happen next. The thrusting of my hips met the onslaught of their expert finger movements.

Daddy and Mom were right. I had slipped beyond any worry about being unprotected, or caught in flagrante delicto! Both of them were ensuring my safety as I was wedged securely between the two of them. Their expert fingers were the master’s mind; directing the symphony onward as the swelling string section and the timpani collided, over and over – beating against my clit, feasting on my nipples, and probing my over stimulated pussy with two masterful hands. They keep up the tempo, building it into a tumultuous crescendo until, my body could stand no more pleasure – and I came, hard, earth shatteringly hard. I became a toppling mirror, impacting the basement floor. I lay in a million shards; my reflection was gone – into the darkness.

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