The Affectionate St. Croix Sisters

Two amorous sisters absolutely adore their tutor. Each tries to outdo the other to please him. When the older one turns 14, sexual intimacy is the next step.

Part One

My name is Miller Carrington. During the year 2002, I reached two important milestones in my life. I celebrated my fortieth birthday, and I attained ten years of experience as a private tutor.

Of course, I knew when my birthday was coming, but I honestly hadn’t realized that I’d been a tutor for a decade. It struck me when I casually looked at my old records and realized I’d begun my tutoring business in the autumn of 1992. That statistic took me by surprise. If someone had asked me how long I’d been a tutor, I would have estimated six years at the most. I supposed the old adage of time flying when you’re having fun applied in this case.

I liked my job because the vast majority of students I tutored and their parents were genuinely amiable people to be around. (Those who weren’t so nice were quickly weeded out of my life and largely forgotten.) Among the numerous positive experiences I had were several clients who employed me four at least four years. It seemed that whenever I lost a beloved, longtime pupil, I immediately picked up another one who proved to be equally enduring. This was certainly the case with the St. Croix sisters.

Shelley and Stephanie St. Croix were ten and eight years old respectively when I first encountered them. Their mother, Melanie, a single parent, had gotten my telephone number from her friend whose son and daughter I had tutored for about two years. Melanie told me over the phone that her two daughters “weren’t terrible students, but they both could and should be doing better at school in every subject.” She was becoming exasperated trying to assist them with their daily homework assignments and figured she needed to employ a professional to save her sanity. I was that person.

The timing of Melanie’s call was excellent. Purely by coincidence, I now had two free hours on Tuesdays because a student whom I had tutored for nearly seven years no longer required my services. Melanie quickly filled that vacancy. I’d have an hour each with Shelley and Stephanie.

Upon arriving, I met the two St. Croix girls who were surprisingly enthusiastic. Somehow, they both seemed familiar to me although I was very sure we had never met before. Within a minute, I was overcome by laughter as eight-year-old Stephanie commented, “Mom, he’s as handsome as you said he was!”

When my laughter subsided, I immediately thanked her for the wonderful compliment. (I had always considered myself slightly better than average looking. Perhaps I had underestimated myself!) I then turned my attention to Melanie to ask her a question: “Based on what your younger daughter just divulged, we must have met somewhere before, but I honestly don’t recall it. How do you know me?”

Melanie, who was blushing at what Stephanie had blurted out, said we had never formally met, but she had briefly seen me perhaps three times when I was tutoring her friend’s children. “You probably didn’t see me at all,” she noted.

I said, “Hey, maybe you can unravel a mystery for me. Your daughters seem familiar to me, but I can’t place them. I know for a fact I hadn’t met them until I walked into your house a couple of minutes ago. How can that be?”

Melanie smiled and picked up a magazine from the table. She opened it and pointed to a full-page advertisement for milk that featured both Shelley and Stephanie. “Maybe this is how,” she stated. Now it made sense! The ad was fairly common. It struck me that I had seen it on billboards, too—including one located at one of the busiest intersections in the city. “My daughters get a few modeling jobs now and then,” Melanie explained. “This milk ad was one of the more recent ones. They’ve had small appearances in a couple of TV commercials, too.”

Amazingly, Melanie said she had not actively pushed her girls into modelling. It happened totally by accident. One Saturday, she and her daughters were strolling through a shopping mall. An agent eagerly approached her, handed her his business cards, and asked for permission to line up modeling gigs for Shelley and Stephanie. There was nothing wrong with the man’s eyesight. Both girls were beautiful little blonde sweethearts—exactly the kind of appealing children one would expect to see in a milk commercial. Melanie and her girls agreed and complied, but they never seriously thought anything would come of it. However, within a week, both girls had been hired to be in a commercial promoting a line of dolls. It was an auspicious start. They were now averaging at least one job a month. These gigs had been going on for a year.

“Stephanie and I are sort of celebrities,” Shelley noted. Melanie quickly put her older daughter’s ego in check. “That’s not true, girls! Nobody even knows your names—and I’m happy about that!”

“Well,” I said to the two girls who were standing nearby, “I can’t wait to tell my friends that I’m now tutoring the beautiful young ladies who are featured in the milk ads. I know they’ll all be jealous of my good fortune.” Both girls smiled and giggled at my compliment. After knowing them for only about two minutes, I could tell we’d get along just fine.

We established a routine: I tutored Shelley first and then Stephanie, each for 60 minutes, focusing on homework assignments first and finishing the hour with various fun learning activities. It was all done on the table in the dining room. Shelley struggled the most with the vocabulary exercises from her speller. Stephanie’s bugaboo was arithmetic. She constantly and carelessly confused addition and subtraction—sometimes within the same question where she’d add one column and subtract in the one beside it. When I told her to focus on the sign in the question and lock it in her mind, the silly errors dwindled quickly.

Time swiftly flew by that first night. When I looked at my watch and said to Stephanie that her hour had expired, she pouted. I took that as an indirect compliment. Her mother was approaching to pay me for my two hours of work, but Stephanie rose from her chair, intercepted her, and whispered something into her ear. Melanie laughed and said, “You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

Stephanie sweetly asked permission to give me a hug before I departed. I replied with a huge smile, “Okay,” I replied, “But only if it’s a really good hug!”

“It will be,” the eight-year-old cutie insisted. She also had a question for me: “You’re not married, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” I said with another laugh. “Stephanie, how about I marry you in about 15 years? I could do a lot worse! Actually, I think we’d make a lovely couple together!”

“Yeah, I like that idea, Miller!” she quickly agreed without a moment’s hesitation. I lifted Stephanie off the floor and set her squarely onto my lap. She warmly embraced me. I embraced her in return.

“I like this!” Stephanie said excitedly.

“What a great coincidence!” I stated. “I like it, too!” After about 30 seconds, when I released Stephanie from my clutches, she promptly said, “Miller, I want another hug before you leave! Please!”

“That might be a little bit greedy,” I kidded her, “but you’ve talked me into it.” We then hugged again for close to a minute. All the while, Stephanie ran her hands up and down my back. She really was quite good at this act of affection. Melanie didn’t seem to object to her daughter’s amorous actions, but her older sister did. Shelley had returned to say goodbye to me and obviously didn’t approve of her sister’s method of wishing me farewell. I could see a scowl on Shelley’s face. I sensed she felt that she was missing out on a good thing.

“Shelley, do you want a hug, too?” I asked her.

“Oh, yes! Yes!” she replied emphatically.

I kissed Stephanie on the cheek, told her I really enjoyed our two hugs, and invited Shelley onto my lap. She practically leapt on me to occupy the space on my lap that her sister had just vacated. Shelley, at age ten, had developed no womanly physical traits yet (what a shame!), but she was even more fun to hug than her little sister was. She too liked moving her hands about, but she was far more liberal about it than Stephanie was. At one point her right hand slipped under my behind. Then she kissed me—but not on the cheek. It was a full-blown romantic kiss planted on my lips. I was startled but pleased.

“Okay, Shelley, that’s enough of that!” her mother said somewhat angrily. “Leave your tutor alone. I think you’re taking advantage of Miller’s good nature.” If that was the case, I couldn’t wait to be similarly violated the following Tuesday.

“You might find this hard to believe,” Melanie said to me as I walked out the front door, “but my girls are usually described as shy and introverted.”

“Nah! That’s plainly impossible!” I shouted as I unlocked my car door. Those two adjectives could not possibly apply to the assertive pair of little blonde sweethearts who had been so affectionate with their goodbyes.

Four days later, on Saturday afternoon, I had a chance encounter with Melanie, Shelley and Stephanie near the food court of our local shopping mall. The girls both saw me before I saw them. They literally raced each other for 50 feet to be the first to greet me. It was practically a dead heat, and I ended up with a pretty blonde in each arm—which was the best possible result. I was receiving kisses and hugs before I had a chance to properly say hello to them. With Melanie’s permission, I bought each of them a treat at the Gourmet Chocolatier, a store in the mall locally famous for its excellent but pricy confectionery items. We only chatted for a moment because the girls were pressed for time. They had to get to their hairstylist appointment.

When we went our separate ways, I entered the food court. I passed a table where a boy I figured to be about 11 years old was seated with a friend. He tapped me on the arm to get my attention. The boys obviously had seen my encounter with Shelley and Stephanie as they asserted that I was “the luckiest fellow in town to have both pretty blonde girls from the milk ads draped all over me.” I had to admit he was right.

Part Two

The second Tuesday (and every Tuesday for the next few years) saw me warmly greeted at the St. Croix house by my two eager students. I noticed they were subtly vying for my favor with occasional squeezes, nuzzles, gropes, hugs and kisses during their respective hours. I did not object. Stephanie had written me a cute little love note which she pulled from her pocket and gave to me after a long post-tutoring hug. She must have boasted to her sister about that, because on the following Tuesday, Shelley handed me a similar but longer letter that was extremely flattering and romantic. It occurred to me that the absence of a male figure in their household might be behind the girls’ amorous behavior. Whatever was causing it, I certainly wasn’t going to put a halt to it!

One Monday night, four years later, Stephanie was rushed to the local hospital with an inflamed appendix. An emergency operation was necessary. Luckily, her appendix was successfully removed before it ruptured. That could have been fatal. Despite the medical emergency facing her daughter, Melanie remarkably remembered that the following day was our usual tutoring gig. She phoned me to explain the situation. She asked to cancel tutoring for the very first time. I said that was to be expected under the circumstances. I asked if Stephanie could receive visitors while recuperating. I was told yes.

Therefore, I used my open two hours to make a trip to the hospital. I bought Stephanie, now 12, some assorted treats and a book of search-a-word puzzles which I had introduced to her a couple of years earlier. She always got a kick out of solving them. Stephanie was alone when I entered the semiprivate room she shared with another girl about her age. She was half asleep, but when she opened her eyes and saw me, her face instantly lit up. A few seconds later, Stephanie began to cry happy tears because I had made the effort to visit her. I shed a few tears myself.

“I just had to come, honey,” I told her. “I wanted to cheer up one of my two favorite students.” Then I asked her, “Stephanie, are you well enough to be hugged?”

“Not as thoroughly as we usually hug, but if we’re both gentle about it, I think it would be okay,” was her cute reply. About five minutes later, Melanie and Shelley arrived to find Stephanie and me locked in each other’s arms.

Shelley, who had developed a sardonic sense of humor, alerted me to their presence by saying, “It’s amazing what my little sister will do to be alone with Miller!” Of course, I hugged Shelley with great affection, too.

“Amazing! This is no different than any other Tuesday,” Melanie kidded the three of us.

All three of Stephanie’s visitors lingered at her bedside for about 30 minutes. Melanie wanted to stay longer with her ailing daughter, but Shelley gave subtle signs that she was eager to go home. I suggested I could drive Shelley there in my car—and even give her the regular hour of Tuesday tutoring once we arrived. Melanie thought it was a splendid idea. She joked, “I hope you two control your romantic urges when I’m not there to keep an eye on you.” I said I “would be a perfect gentleman.” Later, it would occur to me that Shelley hadn’t said a word to her mom about how she would behave while alone with me!

Part Three

During the drive home, Shelley updated me about her schoolwork. She also informed me that she and Stephanie had two TV commercials lined up in about three weeks, so she hoped her sister would recover from her operation quickly. If anything, the St. Croix sisters’ good looks had only increased since I first met them.

I parked my car in the usual spot. Shelley opened the front door with a key she always carried, and we walked into the house. As I removed my shoes, for no particular reason, I casually asked her, “Same tutoring location as usual?”

“No,” she said as a naughty grin came across her face. “To heck with tutoring tonight, Miller. I’ve waited four years for this opportunity. I want to have a fuck with you. Let’s head to the living room and do it there.”

That was undoubtedly the most startling thing anyone had ever said to me in my 40 years, as it had come out of nowhere. Looking back, I suppose four years of weekly hugs and kisses did have a lot to do with it.

I didn’t say yes to 14-year-old Shelley, but I didn’t say no, either. All I said was that we might have to rush through our screwing because there was no telling when her mother might return from the hospital.

“I’m totally okay with however long it takes, Miller,” she conveniently declared. “This is all new to me. I don’t really know how long a typical fuck normally lasts.”

I found that remark very amusing and told her, “I’d say anywhere from about two minutes to 12 hours—the longer the better! Somewhere around 20 minutes would be average.”

“Oh, we have oodles of time, then,” Shelley responded. “I estimate my mother won’t be home for at least 90 minutes. In fact, I’d bet on it.”

I had barely gotten the words, “I hope your guess is accurate” out of my mouth when Shelley began to disrobe rapidly, exposing her small brassiere. (Shelley was a beautiful girl, but Mother Nature hadn’t given her a prominent chest—at least not yet. Some girls are late bloomers.)

I stood there doing nothing for a few seconds, just admiring Shelley. She finally said with a smile, “Miller, I may be new at having sex, but I think for this to work, you have to get undressed, too.”

“Yeah, that’s how it works, alright,” I concurred.

To follow Shelley’s sarcastic directive, I removed my clothing in record time to catch up with her. I even surpassed her, having shed my undergarments before Shelley’s bra and panties hit the floor. I was already semihard when I removed my briefs. Ten seconds after glimpsing Shelley in her birthday suit, I was fully erect—and rather proud of what I was wielding below my beltline.

The nude Shelley St. Croix, despite being small-breasted, was gorgeous in my eyes. Standing about 5’3”, she had been blessed with flowing tresses of curly blond hair and a supremely pretty face. That’s why she got her various modeling jobs. However, Shelley’s pussy was truly magnificent. It was covered with fine hair, but I could see it was a world-class vagina—the most appealing one I had ever seen on any female. As I had been a bit of a playboy in high school and college, I had a significant sample size for the purposes of comparison. Shelley’s was at the very top of the heap.

We embraced standing up for about half a minute until we both sat on a brown leather couch. Our lips stayed locked as we sexually explored each other’s body. Despite their tiny size, I immediately focused on Shelley’s tits, just because that was my normal plan of attack during all my sexual romps. Her breasts were not as firm as I suspected they might be. Pliable was fine, though. That quality allowed me to lovingly squeeze them while I sucked on them to my heart’s content.

Shelley contented herself with stimulating my penis with a gentle and highly effective hand job that included fondling my testicles. She was fabulous for a sexual newcomer. I complimented her, but said, “There’s another way to get me fully aroused, Shelley.”

“I think I know what you’re referring to, Miller!” she delightfully stated before placing my erect shaft into her mouth. I gave her a few thrusts to show her she was correct. It occurred to me that I was face-fucking one of the most beautiful teenage girls in the country—a naughty thought that nearly put me over the edge. After receiving a few excellent licks, I pulled out because I didn’t want to come quite yet.

“My turn to pleasure you!” I informed her. Inexperienced Shelley didn’t quite get my drift, so I took matters into my own hands. I positioned her on the couch with her back flat and her legs spread. I happily licked her vagina for several minutes, sticking my tongue inside her opening numerous times. One of those times produced noticeable wetness. I happily lapped it up. “Let’s try not to stain the couch,” I said. “It looks expensive to me.”

Shelley giggled and squirmed through my act of cunnilingus which I would have gladly extended for two or three hours if time had allowed for it. I sensed my cum shot wasn’t too far off. I had been incredibly turned on by sexually stimulating my sex partner, not the other way around. That was definitely a first for me.

With a bit of haste, I positioned my penis at the opening of Shelley’s pussy and slowly pushed it inside her. I was half standing on the floor and half kneeling on the couch. It sounds awkward, but it worked well! She moaned and I groaned. I had learned as a teenager that there was no better feeling in the world than penetrating a girl in her early teens. The tight pussies found in that specific demographic were seldom replicated—even in 20-year-old virgins.

I slowly reached maximum penetration length. I paused to get a good look at my pupil with my stiff dick impaled in her. It was a wonderful image that I retain to this day in my memory. I began to slide my dick slowly in and out of her crevice. Shelley looked at me with an expression of total bliss.

“You’re going to make it hard for me not to ejaculate inside you, my dear,” I told her without breaking or adjusting my thrusting rhythm. “Don’t worry. I will pull out in time.” I kept my word about two minutes later when a familiar sensation overtook my balls. I pulled out and fired a sizable load, most of which landed on or between Shelley’s breasts. I figured if I wasn’t trying to make a baby, that spot on her anatomy was as good as any other. I picked up a dollop of my goo from her torso and placed it on Shelly’s lips. She didn’t seem interested in tasting it, though. Perhaps she didn’t even think of it. Had she obliged, it would have been a perfect sexual dénouement. Oh, well. I was not about to complain about anything. I looked at the clock and said to Shelley, “See, that took about 20 minutes. I wasn’t really keeping track, though.”

“I was,” she informed me. “By the time you shot your load, it was more like 22 minutes. We’re above average!”

We cleaned ourselves up, got dressed, and actually did work on some of Shelley’s school assignments for an hour while waiting for her mother to return from the hospital. I made a point of lingering around until she did get home nearly three hours later.

During a lull in the lesson, Shelley said to me, “Miller, I’m sure you’ve noticed over the years that Stephanie and I have had a rivalry about you. We both think you’re very kind and thoroughly wonderful to us. You are an excellent tutor, so knowledgeable about so many different topics. Of course, you’re very handsome, too. That makes you the total package in our eyes. Therefore, we each try to outdo the other to try to please you. Given the fact that we had a great fuck tonight—and that I’ll certainly be boasting about it to Stephanie once she gets home—what do you imagine will be her response?”

I answered honestly and frankly. “I don’t have to imagine anything; I know precisely what Stephanie will do. You know something, Shelley? I don’t think I’ve ever screwed a girl who’s just had an appendectomy. This will be a first for me.”