She needed extra tutoring to get her the results her parents demanded, that she get into the right college, university, job. Her future world already mapped out for her, she rebelled within the most subtle deviance.
When a Tutor was brought in she didn’t expect the gentleman that arrived. Well build, yet within a casual twist of nerdy, a beard, glasses, but both of those hid a handsome perhaps he didn’t know he had. Either way he moved her, and as she worked on the extra studies she stole glances where she could, did her level best to conceal her breathing.
He had no idea how wet she was, nor would he, but the moment he walked out of the door she return to her room. Mummy & Daddy were proud, thinking she was starting early on the homework her set her, yet her fingers were exploring wildly around her clit, thinking of how his beard would feel tickling the tops of her thighs, and if his tongue would be as deviously lavish as his velvet smooth tone and turn of phrase.
Today was a snow day and he couldn’t attend. He asked her to take out a pen, to note down carefully work set a week, two weeks ahead, just in case things worsened. He thought she was studiously taking down notes, but her hand was brushing up her thighs almost subconsciously. This was the first time they’d spoken on the phone, his voice so close to her ear. She knew she had to be miraculously quiet if she dared go further, brushing gently over lace panties until the material weaved delicate spells over her. Until the tip of her finger of them told her just how wet she was.
Before long her hand was deep in her knickers, fingers circling over and inside her wanton cunt. She steeled a mindset that she couldn’t let on what was happening, at all, lest she lose his tutelage, and it would be catastrophic if her parents looked at her as anything other than a crystalline princess, so she had to be ever-so-careful.
There was also the details of the work he was setting, of which she tried to be mindful, so attempted to push that to a corner. Yet the more this balancing act continued, the more it forced her to be more considerate with her playtime. Where she would ordinarily push her cunt to cumming, she had to back away, back away, breathe anew, stop. The resist to tease became almost scary considering the ever increasing tenderness, intensity of her touch tease, as well of all the factors that were - now sumptuously - holding her back.
She wondering if it might just be a word of his, or a sigh that could push her over the edge without even touching, thinking of how she’d have to hang up. It almost happened a couple of times, but a swift lip bite stopped things briefly, only to realise that the pain had increased the pleasure. That she was in a place of danger.
She wondered if he knew. If he knew by little sighs, a breath that escaped her strangehold, that she was playing. His voice remained the same, but she thought of his hand teasing over a ridge at the front of his suit trousers, imagined him unbuckling the thick silver clasp on the belt, the diamond chimes it would sound. She thought to the snake smooth of that belt being moved from each loop, and of his tightening it around her neck, controlling her breathing as she played, as he watched, as he teased.
She thought to his removing his cock from tight boxers, of him playing as he spoke to her. She didn’t know. She wanted to know. She was on the very cusp. She thought of him cumming like the boy she’d played with at school, but covering his hand in wave after wave of sticky sweet sex.
“Battery” was all she could say, all she could think of it the moment before she hung up on him, before the orgasm shook her and kept shaking her. She wasn’t even touching, she dare not even risk a brush or touch of a fingertip, such was the earthquake of sexuality which shook her skin, her soul, her bones.
She’d later tell him that her battery died, and that she couldn’t find her charger. He’d understand and forgive her. Yet every time she thought of that call, she fingerfucked she thought of the deception and wondered if her knew. She wondered if he teased. Wondered what it would feel like in the real.
Soon the cold weather changed and went away - forcing Miss back to her old games. Taking lessons from Sir and stealing glances. Yet watching on made her feel so much naughtier, the teasing afterwards all the more delicious - yet not even vaguely as insane as that snow day telephone game.