The Tutor, Part 59

Unfair. So unfair.

I should’ve been able to predict that a fully topless Annabelle would be just as perfect as a bra-clad one. Her bare breasts were so well proportioned on her hourglass figure, and I was immediately tempted to give them a feel. I resisted that urge, though the mental damage had already been done in continuing to realize that a girl like her made me so much more curious and interested in the fairer sex than I had been a few days ago. Also, I was staring more than before. Slightly flushing, I made myself glance back up.

Her lips were still pursed in that sultry smirk, “Well? What are you waiting for, Mere?” she quietly asked, “Kiss me. Like you mean it.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. Annabelle was fucking gorgeous, and impossibly irresistible, and every single kiss was with her was ideal. Better than anyone else I had ever kissed, regardless of gender, and somehow always left me wanting more despite how often I had attempted to claim that we shouldn’t. But I meant what I said a few moments ago; I didn’t care. Not when we were tangled up on the sofa and I had her full attention. Abruptly leaning up to meet her lips, not considering how eager or desperate I might be coming across, I initiated another round of making out.

She knew me well. Every step of the way, I had been more hesitant about ramping things up. At least, when I was thinking clearly. So rather than progressing things in the way I was used to when in such a position, Annabelle just kissed me. Deep lip locks that paved the way for our tongues to get involved as she lowered her body onto mine. It wasn’t long before I was aware of her chest pressing and shifting against me. She was so soft and warm, yet just firm enough up there where I could feel her shape along the way. I didn’t even think about how I was slightly arching into her until I felt myself in the new position amidst a breathy exhale between kisses.

Wrong. This was- The drop of reality evaporated immediately when she kissed me again. And again. And again. Between the soft leather of the sofa beneath me, and all the soft skin flush with mine, I didn’t stand a chance. It was the perfect combination of comfort and pleasure, and it wasn’t long before I hummed a small moan into her lips when she further deepened the kiss.

I also didn’t realize just how on fire my sex was, until two of her fingers traced my slit from bottom to top over my thong. Sharply gasping and tensing up, though hardly in a bad way, I couldn’t help but recognize that she obviously knew what she was doing. Annabelle was a girl, for starters, and she was also incredibly patient and teasing. With just one little touch, she had me desperate for more. I also had no idea when or how she managed to get her hand down there, considering how flush our bodies were just about everywhere.

Tilting my head and leaning in for another kiss, caring even less about how I was the one initiating yet again, my closed eyes furrowed in frustration when I couldn’t quite find her lips. Realizing why a moment later when hers brushed against my cheek, I reluctantly allowed her to continue with a different kind of intimate pleasure. She offered my flushed face a few light kisses as she trailed away from my lips, eventually approaching my ear.

By now, she must have been fully aware that it was a weak spot of mine. My reactions were painfully transparent at this point, especially for an experienced, perceptive girl who could both hear every breath of mine and feel everything below my neck. Unlike the previous few instances, however, she didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she just lingered there. Now that I had accepted her hand’s presence down there, as evidenced by the way I didn’t freak out or attempt to make her leave after the first touch, she gently rested her hand over my crotch and began idly circling my outer lips with those same fingers. Not enough pressure to actually get me anywhere, which was all kinds of frustrating. Especially as her breath played over my ear for what felt like hours while she gave the occasional nibble.

Just when I was considering saying or doing something that would take us out of the limbo that had me unsure whether she was going to tease me for eternity or actually do something, Annabelle finally pressed down with her fingers between my thighs and gave me a light rub over the slightly damp fabric of my underwear. “Mere,” she whispered into my ear. “If I do this for you . . . ”

I waited in suspense and anticipation as she trailed off. As for my voice, it didn’t exist. Normally one little gesture like that would hardly be enough to get me anywhere, but it was a lot more effective after I had been waiting and waiting and waiting for her to do something down there. And that was after being rather warm below my waist from everything else, too. My head tilted back slightly from both her touch and how I could hear every little sound her mouth made against my ear, breath catching as I waited for her to continue.

Before going on, she let out a light sigh against my ear. Then, in a murmur that I could practically hear her little smirk in, she said, “Your collar stays on, pet. For at least a few days.” Not giving me much time to consider her words, Annabelle gave me a much more assertive and effective rub.

That was enough for me to get my voice back, albeit not much more than a single breathy syllable. “Fuck.” She still wasn’t doing that much compared to the way I touched myself. It was more about how she was approaching my body. By lingering down there long enough to make me desperate for literally anything, and then hitting me in a spot that was either a lucky guess or perhaps a maneuver she appreciated on her own body, I was like putty in her hands. I had certainly never teased myself in such an extended manner, even on the days where I had time to drag things out a bit.

Just as easily as she brought me a wave of pleasure, she proceeded to lighten her touch and take things back to where they had been. “Language, Mere.” No matter how much she lowered her voice, she was still more than capable of using a variety of tones that reflected her attitude. This correction, immature than it was, seemed more stern than the last instance she had said the phrase.

The apology slipped out right away. “I’m sorry, Ms. Annabelle.” It was less about my ‘training,’ and more about the unspoken punishment I was currently dealing with. Apparently swearing meant that she would back things up, and I was way too flustered and sexually frustrated to consider anything but playing along.

Proving right away that my interpretation was correct, she placed her fingers back down. Splitting the difference between tracing and rubbing, she gave an idle circle over my womanhood with her fingertips while responding with, “Good girl.” She waited a beat, then asked in a gentle yet serious voice, “Have you ever done this before, Mere? With a girl?”

Of course not. She should have known that, too. Unless she hadn’t believed me when I answered her question about my sexuality on that first day. Regardless, I gave a small shake of my head before realizing that she wouldn’t be able to see me if she was positioned to continue whispering in my ear. “No,” I admitted. Just a couple of meaningless kisses over the years; that was the extent of my experiences with my own gender before Annabelle. Maybe experimenting beyond that would have prepared me for all this.

“Then I guess I’ll be your first.” It didn’t really need to be said, although hearing it out loud made it that much more real. Of course, so did being mutually topless and having the young redhead’s fingers where they were. And we were about to go even further. “If you want me to stop, Mere . . . ” Her hand shifted to the waistband of my thong, then made short work of slipping her fingertips underneath. Not too quickly. She was taking her sweet time, no doubt in both the name of teasing and giving me a chance to avoid crossing the next line.

I didn’t say a word. We had already done so much, and I certainly was past the point of resistance. Because if her touch felt that good with a thin layer of fabric between us, then what was the real thing like?

As her hand slid lower and lower, it was clear that I was about to find out.