Student Sucks The Tutor

Kimmy Kimm watches Celtic Iron lean over the textbook, elbows propped on the table like the words might actually listen if he talks slow enough. The white blouse she tugged on this morning is now unbuttoned to the last possible inch, the loose fabric slipping down one shoulder, and she can feel her skirt riding higher with every shift in her seat. She calls his name, something half-whisper, half-smile. He looks up just as she slides off the chair and sinks between his knees, all knees and quick breaths. One hand already works the button on his jeans while the other guides the zipper like the zipper needs guidance. When his cock slips free—warm, heavy, half-hard—she wraps her fingers around it like someone finally handing her the answer key. Her tongue flicks across the head, lazy at first, then firmer, tasting the salt and heat she’s been thinking about for the last three chapters. She opens her mouth wider, lets him slide over her tongue until her lips meet her own fingers. Eyes flick up, meet his, bright and cheeky, like she’s proud of herself for acing the extra-credit assignment. The way his breathing stutters fills the quiet room better than any pat on the head. She pulls back, drool shining on the shaft, gives the tip a slow, playful suck, and dives right back in, determined to show exactly how much she likes getting an A.