Brianna visits

Tuesday afternoon. You work for a while in your office, then head home early. A quick change of clothing and you decide to relax. Your relaxation is broken by the doorbell.

At the door is Brianna. She’s still wearing her school uniform, white blouse, dark blazer, short, checked skirt but there’s something amiss with the way she’s wearing it. When she looks at you there’s mischief and more in her brown eyes. She’s tightly clutching a pad of paper with her bandaged hand.

“Brianna, you said you wanted to talk about homework?”

“Yes, sir, I just wanted to go over what I missed.”

You gesture for her to enter and guide her to your office. She looks around it as if she’s entered somewhere sacred.

“That’s the same as the statue you left with me.”

She’s spotted one of the other statuettes, the larger one. You placed it on a shelf. She’s over there, almost transfixed by it. She shifts the pad so that she can pick it up.

“Yes, it’s from the same collection as the one I left with you. Identical. Except, obviously, bigger.”

She puts the pad down and then slowly rotates the statuette in her hands. “Yes identical, except…” She’s twisting the base. There’s a click. She’s just turned it on.

You should step forward and take it from her, turn it off. But if you did that then maybe she’d realise that there’s something up with the base being turned that way? Maybe she’d start asking questions? Maybe she’d realise you’d left a loaded magical object in her room? How would she react then? No, you must pretend that nothing’s up. Let her play. Get her out of the room, out of range.

“I… I was going to show you these as well.”

She’s gone back to her pad. Opening it. Plain paper. Some of her drawings. Drawings of the statue you left with her. They’re good. Shading’s a bit off in places, but she captures the shape well. She also captures its eroticism. How has she managed that? You can’t tell.

Maybe, you’re just imagining it. You’ve had to move closer to get a good look. You can smell her perfume, lightly applied, not quite obscuring her natural scent. You can feel her presence, her raw femininity. You can… hang about, she’s not wearing a bra. School uniform rules state that girls with breasts as large as hers require a bra. She’s not massively endowed, but her breasts are more than a handful, probably C Cup, which means she should be wearing a bra. But she isn’t. You can see the pressure of her breasts on her blouse. You can see her nipples poking through the white cotton. Were they hard before she turned the statuette on. You’re guessing so.

And your own monster is stirring at her signs of arousal. You step away. You need a moment to calm yourself. But all you can see is heart-shaped face with the two wide brown eyes in the centre looking at you. Brown eyes you could easily fall in. Above a cute nose and a pair of very kissable lips.

“Do you want some squash?” you manage to stammer out. She nods.

You almost stumble out of the room. Retreat to the kitchen, where you grab two glasses, and try to calm yourself by pouring the squash, diluting with water. A few deep breaths to go along with it. She’s your student. You can’t do anything with her. You’re in control.

Until you return to the office.

You almost drop the glasses. Her blouse is open, revealing two wonderful, full breasts, all curve, all pale flesh, nipples hard and pink and ready for you.

You rip your gaze away from them to her eyes, and all you see in them is wanton lust.

“Sir, I want you,” she says. “It’s all I can think about. Every night, it’s all I dream about.”

And she’s sashaying towards you, sliding the blouse off her shoulders and throwing it over a chair. You’re frozen in shock, transfixed by her beauty, the only part of you responding the monster in your trousers. She takes one of the glasses from your hand and places it on a shelf. Then she’s guiding that hand to feel the softness and the glory of her breasts.

She’s almost the same height as you. She doesn’t have to strain to lean over and place her lips on top of yours. And any resistance you had is lost.