I Head to Cameron's

I knocked on Cameron’s door and held my breath. After what felt like a full minute, it opened, revealing the six foot two shooting guard in all his glory. I was used to being shorter than others as a man, so I hadn’t really noticed how much taller he was than me, but, as a woman, it felt different looking up at him: I felt drawn to him. If I could just throw my arms around his neck and–

“What can I do for you?” Cameron asked, not unkindly though his confusion was obvious.

“Right,” I said, then coughed. I wasn’t used to my delicate new voice yet. “It’s Andi; I took an X-Change.”

“Oh,” he smiled, intrigued. “Still going by Andi, huh? Come on in.”

I carefully closed the door behind me and followed him up the stairs. Part of me had expected him to pick me up and whisk me away, but it seemed I was in for an actual tutoring session.

Cam had tidied up his room at least, a somewhat fresh pair of sheets on the bed and most of the garbage gone. I faintly smelled his sweat. I sat down once again behind his desk and, glancing back at him, tucking some stray hairs behind my ear, asked, “So what’s on the docket today?”

He sat on his bean bag, rolling a football up and down his leg. “I got that Grapes of Wrath essay back. The prof’s giving me another chance to edit it if I want.”

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, but that only gave me a double dose of Cameron’s scent. A warmth spread through my belly.

“That should be easy,” I said finally. “Should I just write it for you or do you want to tell me what to do?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you what to do,” Cam cracked a grin. “No, why don’t you talk me through it? That way I’ll at least know what I did wrong.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Though it happened in fits and starts as my dress or Cameron’s muscles distracted me, I eventually fell into a rhythm, pointing out spots that could use more clarification and cutting out redundancies. I kept his attention this time. He never looked at his phone and often nodded along with my explanations, sometimes chiming in with a phrasing suggestion.

“You know,” he said while I searched for more mistakes, “I can’t really see the essay from back here.”

I tore my attention from the paper to look at him, “I can make the font bigger.”

He chuckled, “Nah, just sit on the bean bag with me.”

The heat beneath my hips flared in excitement. My breath caught in my throat. I knew what happened to the girls who sat beside him.

“Laptop has plenty of charge,” he added, sensing my hesitation.

“Right,” I unplugged it and gave it to him.

He held it aloft with one hand; the other landed on my shoulder as I sunk into the seat. There was hardly enough room for both of us, so the left half of my body squished into the firmness of his right half. He set the computer on my lap.

“That’s better. Now I can see all the bullshit I wrote.”

Even with his arm tight around me and my ass pressing dangerously close to his crotch, I didn’t want to let him get away with such casual self-deprecation.

“You know, your writing, um, is actually pretty good.”

“Right,” he exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, “There’s a reason I’m paying you to be here.”

“No, I’m serious.” I turned to look at him and saw how close our faces were. The stubble that outlined his chiseled jawline. The dark skin that shone against my paleness. The brown eyes that stared deep into mine. “You just, um, need more experience. It’s a very specific kind of writing.”

He searched my face for a hint of dishonesty, “You are serious,” he muttered in that low voice.

“Of course, I wouldn’t lie about that.” With effort, I turned my attention back to the laptop and tapped the screen with my finger, “What do you think of the end of this paragraph?”

He grunted and adjusted beneath me, “Hold on, let me get a better look.”

I expected him to lean closer. He defied my expectations again. Instead, he put both arms around me and slid me onto his lap, flipping up the bottom of my dress in the process. My ass pressed into him, covered only by my tights and my panties.

He took my hands in his and brought the screen I was holding up to his face. My cheeks flushed a bright red. His hot breath whispered past my ear, and I repressed a shiver.

“Could use a transition,” he murmured. A new sensation graced my pussy, one that took me a moment to recognize: wetness.

“Mhm,” I didn’t trust myself to speak anymore.

He let go of my hands and wrapped them around my stomach. I stiffened. He lowered his head to my neck and began, with all the gentle passion in the world, kissing it.

I moaned.

I felt him smile behind me, “Any suggestions on what I should put?”

I practically dropped the laptop on the floor, “No.”