The Tutor, Part 58

When I first walked in on Annabelle stretching in her underwear, I had been thrown off guard and quickly attempted to convince her to get dressed again. Now I wasn’t just desensitized to her being scantily clad; I appreciated it on some level, even if I wasn’t actively checking her out. As for her stripping beyond what I had seen thus far . . . I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to be that exposed, but I certainly wasn’t about to say ‘no’ when she murmured the idea in my ear.

I also couldn’t say ‘yes.’ Not out loud, at least. I wasn’t that far gone, even if I was more or less underneath the eighteen year old girl I had been hired to tutor. All I could do was give a couple small nods of assent with my head.

Naturally, that wasn’t good enough for Annabelle. “You have to say it, pet,” she whispered. Lips still pressed against my ear, her feminine voice sending jolts of electricity down my spine as her voice alone played against one of my low key sensitive areas, she dictated, “Please take off your bra, Ms. Annabelle.” We had only known each other for a few days, yet she could read me so well. If I had tried to form any semblance of that phrase without her help, it would have taken a number of corrections on her part. Her teasing obviously had its limits, as there was no need to drag things out now that we had come this far.

At the same time, she was patient. The average person would be all over me by now. Not because I viewed myself as irresistible by any means; rather, I was almost completely naked, and something like that tended to spark passion regardless of who the unclothed girl was.

Hardly able to think now that she had broken past all my responsible defenses, I gave another little nod. Echoing her exact words, I awkwardly said, “Please take off your bra . . . Ms. Annabelle.”

“Good girl,” she replied, “Care to watch, Mere?”

Despite the uptick, It wasn’t really a question. Annabelle wasn’t the type to ask; she always told, and I had learned by now that she always got what she wanted. Why else would I send her a partial nude when she wasn’t even there in person to compel me to do so?

She shifted back, taking the opportunity to adjust our bodies in their new declined positions. Apparently it was her turn to straddle me. I barely knew what was happening until her legs were already outside of mine and she was lowering herself down until I felt her warmth and weight on my upper thighs. There was no way I had been that graceful when mounting her. And, as my eyes fluttered open to take her in, it wasn’t just her experience or her effortless maneuvers that I was self conscious about.

Annabelle was slightly leaning forward, giving me a direct view of her bra-clad cleavage. I wasn’t trying to stare; I really wasn’t. Yet it felt like an eternity before I could get my eyes back up to her face. She had pulled her red locks back so there wasn’t an inch of smooth skin covered by them, and she looked quite comfortable as the girl on top. “It’s okay to stare, pet,” she said, calling me out right away, “How can you not? Especially when I do this for you . . . ”

Wasting no time in doing what she set herself up to do after getting me to ask for it myself, Annabelle reached back with both of her hands. The movement caused her back to arch, which drew more attention to her breasts as they subtly popped from the movement. If she really wanted us to match, then I would be the one undoing her bra like she had done for me. Dismissing that invasive idea from my mind right away, there wasn’t much more time to think of anything else. Deftly undoing the clasps, Annabelle brought one hand back around in order to gently hold her bra cups into place. With the other, she brushed one strap and then the other off her shoulders. Then she joined the first hand and adjusted her grip so each palm supported one cup.

I hadn’t seen much, yet I had also seen plenty before this latest stage of teasing. Like how her cleavage had given way to show two D cups that hardly needed the support of a bra to stay up. Of course she was that perky and perfect. Some girls’ chests looked ‘better’ in a bra than when naked, or so I had heard from a few female friends who preferred the former for themselves. At the end of the day, it was obviously all opinion and personal preference, but none of that changed the fact that just a glimpse of Annabelle’s bare breasts were enough to demonstrate that she was unfairly attractive on both counts.

“You want this,” she said. Again, not a question.

I had to say something; another nod would make me look ridiculous and even more meek than I already felt when being straddled by such a dominant girl. “Yes, Ms. Annabelle,” I affirmed. My time with the young redhead has taught me that not all dominance came with the cliché roughness, harshness, etc. Her style had far more finesse than that. Still, the fact that I was collared was more than enough to demonstrate the dynamic between us.

“Good girl.”

With that, she slowly began lowering her bra. At this point, her hands were the only things keeping the undergarment on her chest. Millimeter by millimeter, she revealed more of her bare form. I was definitely staring again, and this time didn’t bother to avert my gaze. She had given me permission, and this was also an intimate setting where taking in each others’ bodies was appropriate. Not that any of this was appropriate, but that was beside the point.

As usual, she knew what the hell she was doing. Though her pace was deliberately slow, it was also consistent. Every moment exposed more of her breasts. The tease was far more captivating than it was frustrating.

Annabelle only stopped once the upper edges of her bra cups were covering her nipples. All it would take was the slightest downward movement and she would truly be baring her chest to me. “You do realize I’m eighteen, right? I haven’t even graduated yet.”

Unbelievable. She waited until now to remind me of such things? As if it was remotely possible to tell her to reverse everything she just did with her bra now that we had come this far. This was wrong, but we were also in too deep. And I hadn’t forgotten that the first time she had casually stated her age had been more to put me at ease with her exposure than to taunt me like she was currently doing. As for the ‘high school’ thing . . . Whatever. I was going to focus on the fact that she was legal, as well as the fact that she acted more like a young adult than a teenager.

“I don’t care, Ms. Annabelle,” I said. It was the definition of a half truth.

“Mm hmm,” she smirked.

Not commenting beyond that, Annabelle proceeded to fully reveal her breasts.