Despite my hopes, Carrie's shyness and hesitancy were quick to reassert themselves after she unveiled her blowjob abilities to my great acclaim. With her face burning abashedly, she was barely able to mumble a coherent answer after calming down, so I left her alone in the shower. And after she spent almost an hour there, she stepped out completely dressed. She closed in the distance between the shower and her car quick enough to qualify for the Olympics, staggering just enough to mumble something about being late to home, and her family getting worried.
I sent her off with a wave and a smile, even though I wanted her to stay back, and maybe give me a preview on the topic for our next tutoring meeting.
Since our first encounter had kept her away for a full day, I didn't expect her to come to talk to me during school, especially since we didn't share any class, which wasn't as sad as it sounded. I wanted to be left alone so that I could focus on studying. Luckily, my attempts to disguise myself with loose clothing and crooked posture worked sufficiently, and none of the popular crowd tried to talk. The same could be said for the less popular cliques, though in their case, it was a dash of disinterest, mixed with the lack of confidence, especially as I casually dismissed a few half-assed attempts.
Of course, that didn't mean I was successful in completely avoiding attention, as I saw Sarah observe me from a distance, like she was trying to decipher me, but I acted unaware. Our earlier talk had proved that she had a rather overdeveloped sense of protecting her friends.
I just hoped that Carrie kept her mouth shut about our 'tutoring' session in the shower, as I definitely didn't want to handle the chaos it might create.
Carrie didn't contact me for the rest of the day, even when I sent her a couple of casual messages, mostly to make sure she didn't freak out after not hearing from me.
After the last class, I left immediately, as I didn't expect anything to happen. And even if there was a chance for something happening, I couldn't exactly delay my conditioning exercises just for that. So, I took the bus and went back home, turned on the music, and started exercising… As usual, I kept my phone on silent, not expecting any communication other than the nonsense chain messages from my old acquaintances.
So, I was rather surprised to find several unanswered calls, and a number of messages, filling my phone screen. I sighed even as I read the messages, which was jumping between casual and frantic, though funnily, leaning toward the casual as they progressed. I could even imagine her face as she texted them, no doubt feeling that she came too strong in her previous messages, wanting to clarify, only to push herself a deeper pit. She never mentioned anything about tutoring in her messages, but true to her personality, she managed to do that in a very noticeable way. It was like avoiding drawing a circle, only by coloring everything but the circle on the page. The end result was no different than a circle, only more striking.
As much as I enjoyed imagining her cutely fizzled, it was for the best if I could intervene early enough to prevent a self-implosion.
Unsurprisingly, she answered the phone before the first ring could properly complete. "Hey," I said. "I just checked my phone, is everything okay?" I asked.
"Yes," she immediately answered, loud enough to force me to keep the phone away from my ear. "Sorry," she murmured, realizing her mistake. "I was just worried."
"Thanks," I answered. "Everything is well, I just don't check my phone while exercising," I said.
"You were exercising? Again?"
I chuckled. "That's more or less a daily thing for me. Only on Sundays, I skip exercising, and that's only to rest my muscles."
"Isn't it a lot?" she asked, which was a fair question, since I was yet to explain my ambition to be a professional player. Considering the focus I was showing on my studies, I doubted she even considered it.
"Yes, my muscles need the effort to stay in shape," I answered instead, avoiding the need to explain that on the phone. It wasn't a big secret, but if it became known in the school, there's no way to avoid the attention of the school coach, to galvanize his own quarterback to work more if not for anything else, which would be followed by the said quarterbacks posturing, ruining my chances of avoiding attention completely.
"Really, that much?" she asked.
"Yes, really," I answered, biting my lips not to mention how she liked my muscles, mostly because I wasn't sure how well she could handle suggestive talk over the phone, even the tame kind. "So, how was the school today?" I asked.
She answered, then countered my general question by a very detailed assessment on each of my classes, in proper order, showing that she had already memorized my schedule. I would have been scared if I hadn't already seen how scary her memory could be. If she could remember a passage from a book she read several months ago almost verbatim, she could memorize a simple schedule in a glance.
Moreover, she was too cute to be threatening. Just like in her texts, she was doing her best to avoid any mentions of tutoring sessions, but in the same noticeable way, grilling me on the hardest aspects of the topics, mentioning potential importance and I needed to repeat them to make sure I learned them… There was no doubt that she was egging me to ask for a tutoring session.
I might have ignored it if she didn't have the cuteness of an awkward gazelle —or wasn't as beautiful, if I'm being honest— but ultimately, I bit the bullet. "Actually, I'm having trouble with some of the formulas. Do you mind helping with them?"
"Sure," she said immediately. "In the library, after the last class?" she asked.
"Actually, no, I have a date … with my exercise machines," I said, giving just enough pause to give her the slightest scare. From the little gasp she failed to suppress during my little pause after the mention of a date, it was clear that it worked excellently. "Do you have anything to do tonight? Maybe you can drop by?"
"I don't know," she said hesitantly. "Isn't it a bit late? And aren't you exhausted after your exercise."
"No worries, I just need a shower, and I'm about to step into it. I'm already naked," I informed her. This time, she failed to hide her gasp, no doubt reliving the memories of the shower. And since I was feeling horny after the exercise, I decided to cut the discussion short. "I need to go before the hot water is gone, I'll see you in twenty minutes," I said, and before she could say anything else, closed the phone.
I was curious whether she would come just because she failed to argue her way out of it despite her hesitancy.
She answered that question a couple of minutes after I finished my shower, in the form of her car's engine, rumbling at my driveway. I quickly pulled on a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt that put my muscular arms to the best effect.
I wanted to impress her, but when I opened the door, I couldn't help my eyes widening in shock at the way Carrie dressed. Technically, she wasn't dressed nicely, her clothing didn't fit with each other, and was out-of-fashion for at least a couple of years, something even I could identify, and my knowledge of fashion came from the nuggets that managed to stick around as I half-heartedly listened to the detailed explanations of my various girlfriends.
Another disadvantage of dating with the cheerleaders almost exclusively.
However, the fact that her outfit didn't fit her body completely, or the fact that it didn't follow the arbitrary tenets of fashion was the least important thing. The first thing I noticed was her top, which obviously bought at least a couple of years ago, maybe more, and definitely had been worn repeatedly. I knew it was old, partially because of its faded colors, but more importantly, it wasn't fitting her properly. It clearly belonged to a time before her latest growth spurt.
And it became much better through that simple fact. The shirt stretched in a way that wasn't supposed to, revealing her curves like it was painted, displaying her curvy body perfectly. It might lack any kind of cleavage, but it didn't need it in the first place. Moreover, as it stuck her body, it suggested that this time, her underwear was more interesting. I couldn't wait to see with my own eyes.
Still, it couldn't compare to her skirt. Unlike her top, it didn't look really old, but it carried the familiar pattern of a generic pattern of a catholic schoolgirl skirt, but only quite a bit shorter than its supposed length. Rather than reaching to her knees like it was supposed to, it barely covered one-third of her beautiful thighs, giving a perfect display of her plump legs, tempting me to slide my hands under them and explore her hidden depths.
Overall, with the way she dressed, there was no doubt about her expectations about our tutoring session, so I decided to mess with her a bit, curious just how much she would be able to resist. "You're here, perfect," I murmured even as I grabbed her wrist and dragged her upstairs, and her face was alight with excitement, only to freeze with my next words. "I have a particularly annoying math question that was driving me crazy."
"S-sure," she stammered, unable to hide her disappointment at my lack of reaction. She said nothing as I led her toward the study, where my books were piled open in a corner, in a room where the rest of it was filled with two different TVs, a large whiteboard, and piles and piles of printouts about different football tactics. I took my football seriously.
"Your father must love football," she murmured as she looked around, probably assuming all those stuff belonged to my father. Not a bad assumption, though inaccurate.
"He does," I said, not wanting to go into that particular tangent right now, not when she was dressed perfectly. I was still feeling horny after the exercise, enough not to extend my little teasing game for too long. I sat on the only chair in the room, in front of the problems, and pointed at a circled question. "This is the one."
"I see," she murmured disappointedly, thinking that I was more interested in the question than her delicious body on display. She looked around, looking for a chair, but failed to find any. "I should go and find a chair-" she started only to be interrupted when I grabbed her waist and pulled her on my lap.
"Why bother?" I whispered huskily in her ear as I pulled her directly on my erection, sharp enough for her to feel despite layers of clothing between us. "Is this uncomfortable?" Predictably, she didn't answer, freezing on my lap. I grabbed her hand, and much to her surprise, sensually dragged it toward the math problem. "This is the question? Please explain?" I whispered with a trembling, low growl that worked excellently to get the girls in the mood.
And Carrie was no exception, if her tempting shiver was any indicator.
"Umm," she murmured, trying to gather her nerves, but when I asked a math question in the same rumbling tone, she managed to focus on her answer. Then, I asked another question, and she answered that as well. Then a third one… She wasn't speaking particularly fast even in the beginning, clearly distracted by my rock-hard erection under her, but after the third question, the space between her words started to get larger and larger, even though I was the perfect gentleman…
Except for her seating arrangement, of course, but nobody is perfect.
"Should we move onto the physics homework," I said to her as I pointed at the next book with my left hand —which was an important detail, because my right hand gently landed on her naked thigh, just where her skirt ended.
"S-sure," she stammered, and immediately latched on the textbook as if she was trying to use it to distract herself from the situation. But her hips told a different story, and started to rock. It was a gentle movement at first, like she was trying to search for a better position to sit. Then, she searched again, and again, until it became an unending and tireless adventure, like a miner looking for the mother lode.
I took that as the permission I needed to put my other hand on her thighs as well, making her shiver in anticipation. Impressively, she managed to continue her explanation, though quite a bit staggered and with several interruptions where she tried to contain her moans. Her hips started to get wilder as my fingers caressed her inner thighs softly, closing into her wetness.
Then, her explanation was finally cut with a whimper that seriously threatened my willpower to take things slow when my fingers had finally discovered the edge of her panties, though I was barely able to hang out. Without the delicious release thanks to her treatment in the shower the last night, I doubted that I could have resisted the sweet temptation that was packed in her sweet whimper.
I let her enjoy the touch as I slowly danced at the borders, letting her anticipate my touch, without actually moving to the dangerous areas. Her hips started to get wilder and wilder, the rhythmic movements of her hips abandoning any pretense of searching for a better seating position. Another needy whimper escaped her mouth as I finally caressed her entrance over her panties, followed by an enthusiastic moan. She dropped the pen in her hand, closing her eyes to enjoy the sensation. I could feel the texture of her underwear, which, surprisingly, both smaller and thinner than I expected her to wear, even with her current outfit.
"Why did you stop?" I asked, which forced her to open her eyes, an incredulous expression on her face. "If you stop, I stop," I whispered in the same throaty rasp that was driving her crazy, letting my fingers that were circling around her clit stall just to make sure she understood the threat completely.
"But-" she started, only to stop in alarm as I reduced the pressure of my fingers. Her panic was almost as delicious as her hips, still rocking desperately on my lap. "You're evil," she finally murmured as she grabbed the pen, followed by another moan as my fingers returned to their task. The next twenty minutes might have been one of the most sexually charged events of my life. I continued to caress her inner thighs and her slit over her panties, enjoying her increased wetness, but I made sure not to take the final step, not until her panties were drenched with her juices.
"How about the final formula?" I whispered, as I dragged my fingers, leaving a wet mark on the paper, the source of the said wetness no mystery to either of us.
"Do I have to?" she whispered, panting and gasping as I had just forced her to run several punishment rounds around the track.
"Yes," I whispered, even as I finally slipped my hand inside the already deficient cover of her panties, caressing her naked skin. The resulting moan didn't come as a surprise, but she managed to squeeze her teeth and continue her explanation about the latest physics problem I had asked her.
"Congratulations, you finished it," I said even as I suddenly turned up the heat, my fingers abandoning their slow teasing approach in favor of a merciless assault. Already on the edge, it proved to be the only thing she needed to topple over the edge. She started trembling on my lap desperately, her moans louder than I expected, forcing me to kiss her to suppress her moans —not that it was a great chore by any means.
I pulled my hand out to let her catch her breath after her spectacular orgasm, which took quite a bit of time, as she slid down a bit, just enough to press her head against my chest, listening to my heartbeat. Meanwhile, I tried to decide what to do next.
Then, she surprised me by sliding down, and crouched between my legs, hooking her hands around my waistband, her blue eyes burning with a desire for revenge. "Now, it's time for you to solve some practice questions," she whispered, her tone promising a session of extended pleasure as torturous as she had just received…