727 Cumming Ave.: A Cherry Falls Romance, page 1
727 Cumming Ave.
A Cherry Falls Romance
Dani Wyatt
Copyright © 2021
by Dani Wyatt
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places,
events and incidents are either the products
of the author’s imagination
or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
is purely coincidental.
www.daniwyatt.com
Editing Nicci Haydon
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NEWSLETTER
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Find All The Other Cherry Falls Books
Other Title by Dani
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About Dani
Thank You
Chapter 1
Mason
How have I fallen so far so fast?
It’s been three months since I started that zoom meeting with a new tutoring student. Three months since I met Jenny Redman.
Three months since my filthy obsession took root.
I’ve been doing online tutoring since I started grad school. Found out I had a knack for teaching, even though my intent for getting my masters, then PhD in applied mathematics, was to ultimately do research. I achieved that goal, got published, had my own lab at UC Berkeley for a while, then a more corporate research job with lots of zeros came along.
For three years I toiled under that structure, knowing it wasn’t where my heart was. So, when I got an opportunity for an Associate Professorship with full lab and assistants group to start some cutting edge researching again at a university close to my family, I was more than ready.
It gave me some breathing room. I wasn’t to start at my new position for a few months, and that gave me time to wrap things up at the old job which I did fairly quickly.
I was ready to be out, to be honest.
Still, my love of tutoring, especially high school and undergrad students, called to me so I never stopped. The plan was to take my few months, regroup and dig in at Everett Calvin University, fresh and ready to go.
That’s still the plan, but plans have a way of changing.
I slip my hand into the front pocket of my jeans, fingering the folded piece of paper, its rough edges already worn from my touch, and the ache in my cock intensifies. It was her hands that wrote the letter, it was Jenny who handed me the invitation.
Such hope in her eyes as I struggled to breathe through the pain of my constricted chest, knowing I had to tell her. Not knowing the words that would make it easier on her. Instead saying it so brutally I could have been ripping her heart out.
“Sorry, I’m busy.”
Busy jerking off, looking at the invitation she gave you to her eighteenth birthday party.
Eighteen.
I’m going to hell.
And maybe prison if I don’t get myself under control. The courts have prosecuted cases like this before. High school teacher and student. Eighteen doesn’t always matter.
I grit my teeth and stare at the television where episode an episode of Noragami is playing. I haven’t watched much TV since I was in my teens, but that changed when I met Jenny. Once we established a bit of a rapport, she began to tell me bits and pieces about her, things not math related, things I wanted to know just because, and one thing she shared almost right away was her love of anime.
Since then I’ve become an aficionado, especially when it comes to her favorites.
I have a wall of DVDs and a Crunchyroll account.
Yeah, Crunchyroll.
I’d been so focused on my academic studies and research for so long, I never gave much thought to finding ‘the one’. Dating was meh at best. There was never that pull. No fireworks.
But, still I felt something was growing inside me. I didn’t know it. Didn’t notice it. But it was there, growling, looking for something. A need to find something bigger.
I’d achieved so many goals I’d set myself, but that one thing was missing. Someone. I watched as friends, colleagues and fellow students all started pairing off, but I stayed single. Attended my sixth wedding so far this year alone. No plus one for me. As I watched them dance, I resigned myself to the fact you can’t have it all.
My focus on my work would be my muse.
It wasn’t a week later that I took on a new tutoring student who needed help in honors calculus. She’d just transferred to a new school and their curriculum had her a little upended and the idea that she wouldn’t ace the class seemed abhorrent to her. We messaged and emailed a few times, worked out the details, I gave her a per hour rate that would ensure that money wasn’t the issue, then set a time for our first face-to-face zoom session.
Even from our first email exchanges, something about her tugged at me, made that beast start to pace. I didn’t pay much attention at first, but the second her cherub face and wild red hair filled the screen, I was rock hard. Then she smiled, her eyes flickered, and that dimple appeared. She crinkled her nose and licked her lips and I was gone.
My balls seized up and flooded the inside of my jeans with more cum than I’d ever released in one load before.
I had to sit there with a throbbing cock and sticky, jizz-filled boxers as we got to know each other, then finally I was able to focus enough to work through some of her homework.
When I logged off,
I dropped my forehead to my desk, banging it on the wood surface, making my keyboard bouncing with the impact. I knew I was in deep already. That wild thing shifted inside of me, stretching its legs, scratching its ass, letting me know it wouldn’t be ignored any longer.
With each video session after that, the spinning need to have her in my life intensified. Fast forward and I get a call from an old friend I met during a seminar, Benjamin Strickland, who is now the principal at Cherry Falls Schoolhouse, saying their only honors and AP Calc teacher had to go on maternity leave early. He knew I wasn’t committed to anything for a little while and I knew I should say no. I didn’t share that I had a tutoring student that would be in the class. Why would I? It was nothing, right?
Wrong.
I knew being around Jenny would be the end of me.
Fuck, but what an end.
I was pushing up on the launching point for the rest of my life at one of the top mathematics universities in the country.
Or so I thought.
Instead, I rented an enormous house here in Cherry Falls. More than most could hope to afford, and a fuck load more than you could get on a substitute math teacher’s salary.
It’s up in the Wild Ridge Mountains just outside of Cherry Falls, overlooking the valley, with a luxurious chef’s kitchen, a pool, a theater room, a huge home gym, six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, all furnished in a sort of shabby lux mixed with mid-century modern style that’s comfortable but high end.
The gym comes in handy, more than I would have expected. I’ve always worked out, kept myself in shape, but since I met Jenny I’ve become a beast.
Pumping weights and exhausting myself is the only thing that keeps me from stuffing her in the trunk of my car and driving to some remote cabin where I can keep her tied to my bed for the rest of her life.
The rent is extortionate because the owner really wanted to sell not rent it out, so I had to make it worth his while. And money isn’t exactly an issue for me. Hasn’t been for a long time.
In high school I was kind of a loner, so I started an investment club to meet others who weren’t all about parties and hookups. Turns out, I had kind of a knack for it.
The analytical part of my brain, which had gotten me teased when I was younger, before I filled out and scared the shit out of my former tormentors, was something of an asset when it came to picking sound opportunities. Slow and methodical wins that particular race. Add to that my math skills and it wasn’t long before I had an impressive portfolio.
I paid off my parents’ house. Bought them cars. Set up a retirement fund that would keep them comfortable for the rest of their lives. Paid for my younger brother’s school. A car for him, then a boat too when I thought he was ready for it.
I certainly wasn’t one for hoarding my wealth, but no matter how much I spent there was always more.
Throughout the last decade, I’ve played the market and won far more than I ever lost, giving me a nest egg that would have most people sitting back and taking it easy for the rest of their life. I also felt crypto was going to be something, so I bought into it early and well, let’s just say, I’m what’s referred to as a whale.
But, money is not what really drives me.
I’m passionate about learning. About discovering. Push
No one in my life besides my parents and Michael know how much I’ve accumulated over the years and although I’ve set them up well, I’ve always lived my own life in a less than extravagant fashion.
I told myself I was just going to treat myself with this absurdly large home for the time I had before I started my new position with the university, but I knew better. I didn’t want to admit it, but deep down there was this dream, of living here.
With her.
I press my head back into the soft cushion of the sofa and close my eyes. Trying to concentrate on anything but the piece of paper in my pocket.
My chest is tight, my dick hard. There’s a ringing in my ears that morphs into the sound of her laughter. Thoughts of her sweet, ripe, full curves have cum seeping from my rigid dick.
My fingers twitch, my car keys sitting on the coffee table in front of me, taunting me…
Come on, let’s go. You don’t have to go inside. We can just watch. It’s not like you haven’t watched her before…
The voice in my head is getting louder as I pull the invitation from my pocket and unfold it for the hundredth time.
I know I’m supposed to call you Mr. Thomas now, but when we started with tutoring you always said to call you Mason…so this invitation is for Mason.
I’m having a little party tonight for my eighteenth birthday. I don’t know who else will come, but I wanted to be sure to invite you because you’ve helped me so much this last year. I’m sure I would have lost my scholarship without you. Also, I sort of thought we were kind of friends maybe?
Anyway, it’s, like, super cas. I’ll have some snacks and whatever, no gifts of course.
Nine o’clock. My address is 727 Cumming Ave, three doors east of Pearl’s Pawnshop/Liquor Store. Hope you can make it.
Jenny
I bring the paper to my face with one hand while my other works the button open on my pants, then the zipper, and my erection practically rips through the opening on my boxers to get free.
I inhale, the invitation covering my nose and mouth as I start to stroke myself. I’ve practically given my cock calluses yanking on it so much since I first saw her face. The face of a girl I shouldn’t want. I told myself it was okay, it’s just fantasy, I’m not really touching her.
But now she’s eighteen.
And she wants me to come to her party.
I’ll come alright, my little fox. I only wish it was in your mouth. Or your pussy. Your ass would be—
I’m jolted out of my depravity as my phone starts playing Who let the dogs out. My brother, Michael, set that as his ring tone, telling me I needed to let my own dogs out, so to speak.
I slap the invitation down on the table and hit the speaker button on the phone. Thank fuck he didn’t want to facetime, because he’d be getting a big fucking screen full of my swollen dick and we may be brothers, but we don’t share everything.
“What?” I grit out, fighting to get my hard-on back in my pants.
“What the fuck is your problem, ass?” He barks back and I hear wind or rain in the background. “I’m out on the boat, having fun. Wondered what you were doing.”
“I’m having fun,” I answer as I struggle with the zipper on my jeans, gritting my teeth as I bend my dick in half, trying to corral it back into place.
“You are not. I bet you’re sitting at your desk, doing nano whatever. You need to get out, man. Get laid. Girl or guy, I don’t care…”
“Maybe both,” I snap back.
“Dude, I know you’re straight. Just busting your balls. But Mom’s got grandbaby fever and I’m not done sowing my wild oats, so the daddy pressure is on you, bud. Get out there and breed.”
It’s ironic because I always had this vague notion of being a husband and father someday. But it never felt real, not until I met Jenny. Now, my dreams are filled with her running around the house with a baby on her hip and her belly full.
“I’m working on it,” I hear myself say as I get my pants back together, then press my thumbs into my eye sockets, wondering why I just fucking said that.
“What?” Michael hoots. “Seriously? You actually have some interest in something that doesn’t involve numbers or chaos theory or whatever? Wait…” He mocks in a serious tone. “You don’t have some like, AI girl you’re obsessed with? With like a supercomputer brain and you guys mutually masturbate to like super high-level math or physics equations?”
“No, dick. Never mind.”
I’m only half listening as I pick up the invitation, my phone and my keys. Michael’s laughter and jabs barely register as I head through to the cavernous garage and get into my one other indulgence, a 1966 Mustang Mach 1 Concept, painted jet black. I turn the ignition, the engine roaring to life as I press the garage door button and give one last second to try to talk myself out of what I’m about to do.
It doesn’t work, and I back out of the garage, changing the subject while I drive, asking Michael about school and trying to keep one foot in reality as I head toward Cumming Ave.
By the time I turn the corner two blocks from her house, my thoughts are manic. Adrenaline is rushing through me like a lava flow.
“I gotta go.” I slow the car, the engine rumbling under me.
“Okay, loser. I’m heading back to the dock. Just sitting out here, the water is dark, the wind is perfect, I’m fucking happy out here, man. Thanks to you.”
Michael has had an obsession with the water and sailing since he was little. On his fourteenth birthday, I bought him his first starter sailboat and hired a mentor to teach him. He’s won a handful of the highest-level youth single-handed sailing races since then.
So, on his eighteenth birthday last year, I upgraded him to a thirty-six foot Jeanneau, specially tricked out for single-handed sailing.
His goal is to sail his first amateur adult single-handed race, the Transat CIC, from Brest to Charleston, next year. I’m bankrolling his venture and besides my parents, I’m his biggest fan.
“Seriously, man, you’re welcome.” I bring the car to a stop two doors down from Jenny’s, where I’ve sat many times before, and turn out the lights, my foot on the brake as I reach for the glove box where I keep my binoculars. “Just remember me when you’re world famous.”
We say our goodbyes and I settle in, scanning the windows.
Inside there’s the flicker of light and I see the TV is on, but there’s no sign of Jenny.
I ease the Mustang around the corner to where I can get a different view, rage already clutching around my throat. It’s almost 10:30 and no one is here. No one came to her party. I mean, I know she’s only lived here a short time but by now, some kids from school should have showed.
That thought drives a spear through my heart, but at the same time, it relieves me. The idea of her here, around other adolescent, testosterone-filled boys from school, makes a red haze cloud my vision.
Then, I see her.
That crazy red hair, in waves the color of a freshly-minted penny, frames her face and hangs half way down her back. She cut her own bangs last month in something she called a wolf cut. It was uneven and horrible and wonderful it only made me want her more.
I’m anxious and on a hair trigger, the way I always am around her. She overwhelms my emotional circuit boards and she has no idea.
She heads through to the front room, holding a hairbrush in her hand, then raises it to her mouth like a microphone. I look at the TV screen and see the show I know is one of her favorites. She’s singing along with Bo Burnum and I know from watching it myself about twenty times because I knew she loved it, it’s the Bezos 1 song and I sniff on a smile. Watching her as she sings and dances along with Bo, my stomach does back handsprings, my heart ricocheting around in my chest.
I’m so gone for this girl.
My dick is already at full mast when she turns toward the side window and I catch her hazel eyes looking directly into mine. All she sees is darkness, but all I see is her.
