Part One
My name is Kyle. I was 28 years old in 1992. I had been employed as an office clerk since 1989 at a small company in Canada. I enjoyed the work. It was entirely a desk job. There was no heavy lifting involved, thankfully. I’m a bit of a klutz, so sitting on a chair all day instead of doing physical labor suited me just fine. Unfortunately, there was quite a bit of mismanagement and poor decision-making at this company’s upper levels. It filed for bankruptcy in May 1992. Of course, this left me unemployed.
I searched for a regular job for a little while, but I increasingly found that I was drawn to tutoring, which I had done on a part-time basis with the children of friends, neighbors, and family members starting when I was 18. I had always been a good student, I could explain concepts well, and I liked the interpersonal contact the job provided. Therefore, I decided to go into the tutoring profession full time. Accordingly, I placed a classified ad in the local newspaper. Before too long, I had 11 different clients totaling 15 students. They all seemed to be satisfied customers. I had found my niche!
One day I got a telephone call regarding my ad from a woman with a foreign accent that was difficult to place. She was very eager to have me tutor her two sons, who were in grades four and seven respectively. When I asked her which subjects they needed help in, she promptly said, “Everything.” I told her I’d do my best. She booked me for two hours, from 4:30 to 6:30 p.m., on Monday nights starting right away. The family’s last name was Khazmi. A friend told me its origin was likely somewhere in the Middle East.
When I showed up that first Monday afternoon, I was delighted to find that both boys were eager to learn, and they were both very polite. They had been raised well. We hit it off right away. I discovered the family was originally from Iran. Their father was the proprietor of a successful takeout restaurant featuring Middle Eastern fare that was located in a plaza not too far from my house. The boys were a joy to teach. They confided in me like I was an older brother, telling me about their adventures, school issues, and just about everything else. Within a short time, I was seeing them on Saturday afternoons, too.
The boys had a little sister named Kira, age four, who was a living doll. She was very pretty—which wasn’t surprising because her mother, whom I guessed to be about seven years my senior, was absolutely beautiful. Kira was always the person who greeted me enthusiastically at the door, even though I wasn’t tutoring her—yet. She drew and painted pictures for me, and openly chatted about whatever was on her mind. She jumped onto my lap frequently without an invitation. There was no shyness in this girl whatsoever. I could tell she was very intelligent, which made her the brightest of the three Khazmi children.
One day, while resting in her usual spot on my lap, Kira asked me if I was married. I get that question a lot from my tutees, so I provided Kira with my standard response that I give to all my very young female students: “No, I’m waiting for you to be old enough so I can marry you.” Her face lit up and she gave me a very warm and long hug.
Her mother witnessed this obvious display of affection. “You just made her day, Kyle,” she told me. “Kira thinks the world of you. She wants you to tutor her, too. She feels left out. Every time you come here, maybe you can teach her reading and some math for 10 minutes before you work with my two boys.” I readily agreed. When Mrs. Khazmi asked what I’d charge for 10 minutes of tutoring Kira, I initially replied, “One long hug from her!” I laughed and said it would be free. At the end of every session though, Mrs. Khazmi always added a little extra money to the payment. “Kyle, you deserve to be paid for every second of your time,” she’d tell me. “Kira’s hugs don’t pay your bills.”
The first Saturday I worked with Kira, she sat in a chair beside me that was practically touching mine. (In contrast, Kira’s two brothers always sat across the table from me.) Together we worked on improving her printing and doing a few basic phonetic drills. I saw immediate improvement. I told her to keep working on her printing. She promised to write something for me before I left the house at 6:30. At that exact time she was waiting eagerly to show me something she had neatly printed on a sheet of lined paper I had given her. The message was, “I love you, Kyle!” She also added half a dozen brightly colored red hearts. Kira handed it to me and said her mom had helped her with the spelling.
I was already well on my way to adoring this little girl, but that note just melted my heart. I promptly got another sheet of lined paper and wrote a note for her. It read, “Kyle loves Kira with all his heart.” I added an enormous lopsided heart underneath it. (Art was never my strength when I was in school.) Kira jumped onto my lap to embrace me. This time she kissed my cheek—which was a first. I returned the favor. Kira had no intention of stopping the hug. Her mother had to step in to end it.
“That’s enough hugging and kissing for now, Kira,” she told her amorous little girl. “Kyle has another stop to make tonight.”
“Awww!” Kira responded sadly.
“Awww!” I said as well. “I’d rather stay here and keep hugging Kira. She’s an absolute sweetheart—and a smart one, too!”
Mrs. Khazmi said, “I think we need to expand Kira’s tutoring to 30 minutes instead of just 10 minutes, Kyle. The longer session can include plenty of time for hugs.”
“Yay!” shouted Kira. She kissed me a second time before jumping off my lap and running up a flight of stairs to her bedroom. I folded her cute, pencil-written, love note and put it into my backpack. I still have it, all these years later.
Part Two
I tutored Kira through high school. She remained the same affectionate girl over those many years, although she did tone it down somewhat. I recall that she stopped sitting on my lap at age seven. On a couple occasions, I was summoned to babysit her when her parents and brothers attended weddings. To amuse us, I brought along DVDs of TV series and cartoons I had watched and enjoyed when I was her age. Although I played them, I might as well have not put them in the DVD player. Seven-year-old Kira was more than content to sit on the couch in her pajamas, wrap her arms around me, and place her head on my chest. She would happily do that the entire time before she went to bed.
“Kyle,” she asked me during one of these pleasurable cuddling sessions, “Are you still going to marry me someday?”
“If you keep behaving like this, I might not have any choice!” I told her. “I do love you tremendously, Kira. I can’t see that ever changing.”
“Next time instead of cartoons, bring a DVD movie that’s a love story,” Kira stated, “You know, the kind of movie my mother likes to watch, with lots of kissing and hugging.”
I laughed out loud. “What a girl you are, Kira! You’re seven going on 17!” I told her. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you need to get any more romantic ideas into your brain. You’re doing fine as it is.” I then lifted Kira to the appropriate height so I could give her a few kisses, which were, of course, well received. Within 15 minutes she fell asleep while sprawled on my chest.
Kira retained her beauty, too. When she was about 10 years old, I once commented to her mother that Kira was attractive enough to be a model or appear in TV commercials. “She’s cuter than 99 percent of the kids I see on TV today,” I declared.
“Kyle,” Mrs. Khazmi responded, “I think you’re more than a bit biased about anything to do with my darling daughter.”
“Yes, I certainly am,” I confessed. “Kira is the nicest kid I’ve ever tutored—and certainly the most affectionate one. How can I not be biased towards her?”
Kira also was as smart as I thought she was. She was always an excellent student. She didn’t need remedial tutoring in any of her subjects. I was told to challenge her with work that was beyond her grade level. She was reading high school-level novels in the fifth grade.
By the time Kira was 12, she had begun to physically progress quite nicely into womanhood. During one Saturday tutoring session when she was about 11½ years old, Kira whispered to me, “Kyle, did you notice that I’m wearing a bra now? Isn’t that exciting?”
I think it was barely a training bra, but I had noticed it. All normal men notice such things. “Yes,” I told her. “I’ve known since the first day I saw you that you were going to grow up to be a beautiful woman. This is just a step towards that goal. Nature is doing a fine job with you, Kira.”
“Are you still going to marry me someday?” she asked me with an impish smile.
I told her, “When the time comes, if you still want me to marry you, I’ll be right here.”
For the thousandth time—only a slight exaggeration—Kira gave me one of her affectionate hugs. It felt different this time because she was wearing her bra.
I sighed and said, “I have to admit it, Kira, I’m going to enjoy hugging you now more than ever.” Kira’s foray into puberty definitely was exciting for both of us—in every sense of the word.
Part Three
By the time Kira was 14, her brothers had both graduated from high school. Mr. and Mrs. Khazmi attributed that feat to my many tutoring sessions with them, which I thought was very flattering. Thus, Kira was my only remaining tutee at the Khazmi household. Her time had been expanded to and hour when she was 10. I was told by her oldest brother that Kira once broke into tears at age 13 when her mother suggested she didn’t need me for tutoring anymore, or maybe just once per week instead of twice. Her mother quickly abandoned that idea when she saw how upset her daughter was. Upon learning that, I bought Kira a large bar of Swiss chocolate, explained why I had made the purchase, and told her that was the greatest compliment I had ever received as a tutor. When no one was looking, Kira kissed me very romantically. It was unlike the too-numerous-to-count pecks on the cheek we had exchanged since she was four. She also pressed her blossoming chest against me for the utmost effect.
Kira was about 18½ years old when I showed up at her house one Saturday afternoon for our scheduled hour. It was near the end of the school year. Kira would be graduating high school soon. She opened the door and announced, “Hi Kyle. I’m here alone today. My family has gone to visit my aunt, uncle and cousins. Mom left your usual payment for you.”
“Great!” I said. “Is there anything special you want to work on today, Kira? How about solving algebraic equations with unknowns on both sides, or perhaps reading some amusing short stories? I’ve got some good ones in my backpack.”
Kira gave me a long look and said, “I think you missed the point, Kyle. The first thing I said to you after ‘hi’ was that I was here alone. Now were here alone together. I’ll be 19 in five months. You know how I’ve felt about you for more than a decade. What do you think I want to do today?”
Upon hearing that statement, I gave Kira a long look. She was a gorgeous teenage girl with an exotic quality that made her better looking than a typical Canadian female. I also loved her immensely. I broke a long silence by saying, “To heck with algebra and short stories! Kira, I want to do exactly what you want to do!”
“Yay!” she said, turning into a kindergarten pupil for a moment.
“Yay!” I said too. But I was turning into a horny 43-year-old man who was about to have a sexual romp with a very ready, willing and supremely beautiful teenage girl.
Kira immediately led me to the couch in the family room, the very same couch we sat on to sort of watch DVDs during my babysitting sessions with her seven years before. Kira immediately became the aggressor, which I found extremely exciting. She pawed me, and kissed me all over my face and neck. She practically ripped the tennis shirt off my back and then began planting more kisses across my chest. Needless to say, I was aroused. Long, romantic-style kisses were next on Kira’s agenda. That was more than alright by me.
After one particularly splendid smooch, we paused to catch our breath. Kira picked this curious time to tell me a secret.
“Do you remember the first night you came to babysit me?”
“Of course,” I replied. “You wore pajamas that had Disney characters on them.”
“Right!” Kira confirmed. “That’s sort of part of the secret.”
I gave Kira a puzzled look. She continued with her story. “You would be arriving here at 6:30. My mom made sure I had been fed. She told me I should take a bath and get into my pajamas before you got here. I suggested to Mom that once you arrived that you could help me with my bath instead of her—or you could have a bath with me! For a moment or two, it looked like she was actually considering my request, but she eventually said no. She said that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“No, it would not have been inappropriate, Kira,” I said, still trying to visually process sharing a bathtub with a flirtatious seven-year-old beauty. “But it would have been quite a memorable experience.”
“I know I would have liked it, too!” Kira said. Then she suggested, “Kyle, we could rectify that lost opportunity right now. How does a sexy bubble bath for two sound to you? My family won’t be home until midnight. Nobody will be here to interrupt us.”
What could I possibly say to that offer? I chose, “Lead the way, Kira, please!”
Part Four
In all the years I had tutored in the Khazmi household, I had never once ascended the stairs for any reason. The first time would be for the best possible reason! I arrived shirtless thanks to Kira having already removed it from my chest. Kira was wearing an unflattering beige sweatshirt that hid her decent-sized bust. I immediately lifted it off her body and tossed it onto the counter. Kira offered no resistance. In fact, she raised her arms to speed things up. She was about 5’4”, so I towered over her with my frame that was a smidgen over six feet tall. She removed her slacks on her own while I did the same with my trousers. I removed my socks as did Kira. Now we were both standing in the Khazmis’ bathroom in our underwear.
“Don’t you think we should actually put water into the bathtub before having our bath for two?” I asked, pointing out the obvious.
“Oh, yeah. I guess that’s necessary,” Kira agreed with a girlish giggle. She put in the stopper, turned on the faucet, fiddled with it until she found a comfortable temperature, and then turned her attention back to me. Then she dropped her brassiere to the floor. Her breasts jiggled slightly as they settled. They were quite lovely to behold. I immediately moved my hands forward to cup them and fondle them gently.
“Very nice, Kira,” I commented. “You have beautiful breasts. But what else would a beautiful girl have?”
“I was hoping you’d like them,” she said.
I surprised Kira by noting, “I’d actually seen them before.”
“How? That’s impossible! This is the first time you’ve ever seen me with no top on!” she insisted.
I explained how it was indeed possible. “During one of my babysitting gigs with you, when you were about eight, you were wearing pajamas that buttoned up. You neglected to do up all the buttons. That meant when you positioned your body a certain way when you laid your head against me, I could see down your top and look at your pretty little breast buds. They were tiny things, Kira, but they were also lovely things. They caught my attention.”
“Well, I guess you had a secret, too, Kyle!” she declared with a chuckle. “However, I can certainly state with 100 percent confidence that I’ve never seen your penis before—until right now!” Within five seconds, Kiri had pulled down my briefs, causing my erection to spring upwards.
“I’ve never seen your vagina, Kira—just your tits,” I told her. “It’s time to end that mystery.” I yanked down her pink panties to reveal a pink pussy—a very attractive pink pussy. It was hairy but I approved of it. Did I ever!
We both remained standing as we began to fondle each other’s nether regions. Kira giggled—which caused me to do the same. I had to alert her that the bathtub’s water level was getting high. Kira had poured in a liquid bubble bath that smelled of oranges. I thought it was the perfect aroma. Kira turned off the faucet so we could proceed with our sex act.
Thankfully, the Khazmis’ bathtub was quite large. It allowed me to stretch my legs fully with my head at the end of the tub that was opposite the faucet. Kira climbed in and straddled me. She laid atop my torso as we kissed passionately. Kira was skillfully rubbing her vagina against my rising penis while I continued to enjoy playing with her breasts.
“One of these days, Kira,” I told her, “these breasts of yours are going to feed a beautiful baby. But in the meantime, I’m really going to enjoy sucking on them!” I kept my word—and her boobs lived up to my expectations. I could have licked and sucked on them for hours. However, it didn’t take long at all for her nipples to stiffen as hard as my penis was.
“This is far better than eying my teeny-tiny breast buds, right Kyle?” she asked me naughtily.
“Do I really need to answer that question, Kira? Okay, your breasts are absolutely wonderful. I’m sure every male classmate of yours would like to be doing what I am.”
“That’s not true,” Kira told me. “There are a couple of queers in my class. They’re more interested in fondling each other’s dicks than touching any girl’s titties. Imagine that!”
I laughed at the funny remark and replied, “They’re obviously fools. They’re missing out on something great!” Then I said, “I think it’s time to put my dick to its proper use,” I informed my bathtub buddy. “Climb aboard it, my girl! Unlike your queer classmates, I know what to do with mine!”
With my assistance, Kira positioned herself exactly in the right spot to descend slowly onto my aroused penis. The sight of her—my beloved, decade-long tutee—riding my rod proved to be overwhelming. I only lasted a minute before blasting her vagina full of my warm semen. After moaning with delight, I felt compelled to apologize for the short duration of our fuck.
“Kira," I told her, "I once fucked a gorgeous, 24-year-old woman who had been a beauty pageant winner. I rode her for 20 minutes before giving her a cum shot. With you I couldn’t last two minutes. Take that as a huge compliment.”
“We have plenty of time for you to make amends,” Kira sweetly suggested.
We spent a full hour in the tub as the water slowly lost its warmth. Kira mounted me in reverse cowgirl fashion. I did much better the second time around, skillfully pleasing her with my stiff dick for about 15 minutes before exploding with another sizable orgasm. I was delighted that I had made Kira come twice, too. A guy needs positive feedback occasionally.
We got out of the tub, but we didn’t get dressed. We continued our lovemaking spree onto one of the kitchen chairs where our tutoring sessions usually took place. It was the same chair where Kira had first sat on my lap as an amorous four-year-old girl. Now she was nearly 19 years old, a gorgeous sexpot, and certainly a lot more fun to have on my lap—especially without her clothes.
“Are you going to marry me someday, Kyle?” Kira asked me as if she were once again a smitten second-grade student.
I recalled an answer to that same question I had once given her a long time ago. Given the circumstances, I thought it was still quite appropriate, so I reused it: “If you keep behaving like this, Kira, I might not have any choice!”