Don't peek

"I'm going to take off my undershirt." Your eyes go wide as you stare over at her, gaze locked on her chest. "Oh my god, Max, you're fucking it up already, you perv!"

"You just said..." You try to shuffle your legs as you start across the intersection, but she spots the bulge.

"Is just the suggestion of tits enough to set you off?" You glance over at her smirk, her own eyes cast down at your lap.

"Is that the lesson?" Your not-so-secret revealed, you decide it's probably safe to take the step of using your hand to adjust your very hard cock. "Don't get hard when you mention you're stripping?"

"No, the lesson is..." She reaches across, pushing your face back toward the road you were very much supposed to be paying attention. "Don't peek."

"Don't..." You peek. "Holy shit!" You've imagined them so many times before, but this is the first time you've actually seen Mel's bare tits.

"You peeked!" She upgrades her classic slap to a very stiff punch right to the bone in your upper arm.

"Fuck..."

"I said..." Still topless, she slaps her thin, silky undershirt down on your very obviously stiff erection. "Don't peek." You keep your eyes glued to the road as she slips her tank top back on.

"Your tits are..." You glance down at your lap, then across at her obvious pokies. "... Incredible."

"You're terrible at this." She reaches across, straightening you back toward the road. "But that's okay, you're learning. Mistakes are allowed."

"Do I get another try, then?" You grab the silky undershirt in your lap, feeling at the stiffness below it.