I find her (hiding?) in her room

Nine o'clock comes and goes with no sign of Alison. She left the house using the outside stairway so her cereal bowl sat empty on the kitchen table for several hours before I finally put it back in the cupboard wondering if had I pushed her too far? Neither did Alison stop by after class like usual, or come down to mooch dinner off of me, so I was not surprised when she didn't come downstairs to continue the 'paying the rent'. After another twenty minutes I climb the steps to the landing and peek in through her open door. In spite of the fact that the suite of rooms upstairs comes with an office with a full sized desk and computer, I see her on her bed looking over her school work.

“Oh, Mr. P.” Alison must have heard me, because she looks up like a naughty child caught filching cookies. “I'm sorry I haven't been down to see you, I have a lot of studying to do.” As far as I can remember, this is the first time I've been upstairs since the day I helped her move in. To have me suddenly appear like this must come as a shock, especially because she must know what I've come for.

“Are you sure that's what's going on?” My question is answered by a pronounced flushing of her cheeks and ears. I sit next to her on the bed and look over her shoulder. In spite of the fact she has a calculator resting on her legs, the notes in the exercise book are from a History lesson dated a couple weeks ago.

“Do you think you have time to take a break?” I'm not mad, in fact I prefer the nervousness of the small town girl from Tennessee to the worldly college sophomore she likes to pretend she is.

“I don't know if I can do this, Mr. P.” She rests her hands together primly on her lap and looks up at me with pleading eyes.

“I thought you liked it when we kissed, Angel.” I take one of her hands in mine and squeeze it softly. “I don’t want you to have to do anything that you don’t enjoy.” To my surprise I feel the honesty behind the simple words. I’d love to have Alison moaning and wiggling under me on this bed, but not if I had to **** her to do it. There is nothing sexy about sleeping with a woman, no matter how beautiful, and knowing that when you are done, that all she wants to do is scrub every bit of her skin clean of your stench.

“That’s the problem, Mr. Patterson.” I like the way Alison bites her lips when she’s nervous, “Kissing you was so good, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop this time.” I grin like a fox in a henhouse, this is an issue I am more than willing to deal with. I lift the back of her hand to my mouth and kiss it, never taking my eyes off of hers.

“Just let me know if things start moving too fast, OK Angel?” She smiles shyly and leans over to brush my lips with hers so lightly that I almost imagine it.

“You’re sweet, Mr. P.” I might be sweet now, but I’m hungry for the feeling of her young body melting in my arms as I claim her. Now that I know that she likes this as much as I do, I decide to push things further than I went last night. By the time I’m done Alison might have to revise her evaluation of me.

Initially, just like the first time, I keep my hands to her back, shoulders and side of her torso. However, less than two minutes into this make-out session the thin strap of her sleeveless top is pulled off her shoulder and I cup the warm, soft flesh of her round tit in my hand as we kiss. I've been wanting to do this for more than a month now, and the feeling is incredible.

“Mr. P!” Alison objects halfheartedly when we finally come up from the kiss and she fusses with her top. “We shouldn’t…”

“No, Angel.” I correct her, “This is something I’ve been dying to do since the first morning you came downstairs in one of your skimpy halter-tops.” I slide the other strap off her shoulder and pull the top down to her lower ribs so I can see both of her tits at once. Why would a beautiful young woman wear a top like that if she didn’t at least subconsciously expect a man to strip it off her? I half expect her to cover up with her arms, but after a moment of doubt she decides to accept the inevitable. Her breasts are as firm and soft as I imagined, and notable for the small size of her pink areola that peak even more under my intense scrutiny.

“Do you like them?” She seems genuinely concerned that you might not. “Richard says I should get implants.”

“Dick is an idiot, Honey.” I immediately return to the pair of soft globes, rubbing the smooth skin and gently pinching her tightening nipples. “These are perfect, don’t you dare change them.”

“Really?” Her eyes glow with pleasure.

“Oh yeah,” I grin as I start kissing her again, this time fondling her firm breasts as our lips touch. There is no hesitation on her part this time when my tongue probes at her lips. She opens her mouth and her tongue comes out to meet mine. I gently roll her puckered nipples to add a new level of stimulation to excite her, and the way she moans into my mouth encourages me to pinch them a little harder.

I hear her textbook thump onto the floor and soon after that the calculator joins it on the floor, but neither of us are too worried about her school supplies at the moment.