Jean

"Hey, John! What's up?" Jean cheerfully exclaims. She's wearing a low-cut white shirt and skinny jeans. Her long, brown hair curtains around the perky breasts you've dreamed of.
"I'm great, how about you?" you reply, slightly flustered.
"Uh, I'm good too. You here for me or my dad?" she says. You assume she's joking.
"Your dad was, um, going to help me out with some math stuff," you manage awkwardly.
"Well, my dad's not back yet. You can come on in. I'll try to keep you company." She leads you through the front hallway to what seems to be the dining room. "Something to drink?" she asks.
"Yeah, a water would be fantastic." You sit at the table, pulling out your math binder. Jean comes back with two cups of water.
"Studying, huh? You didn't hear it from me, but this test'll be a piece of cake. You can go easy for now."
"Oh, really? Thanks." You close your binder. "So... how're you?"
She laughs. "I'm great."
"Kinda weird that you're dad's my teacher."
"Yeah, I guess. There's not that many in the school, so probabilities not that low."
"School must be easy for you."
"And why is that?" she asks, offended.
"Uh..." you murmur, embarrassed. You didn't mean to offend her. "It's just, with your dad as a teacher, I'd assume you'd be able to get extra help a lot easier."
"I guess... I mean, I'm set for math, but my other teachers assume I'm set in their classes as well. I've got an A in Math, and managed to swing an A in Physics too, but most of my other classes, Humanities and such, are B's."
You sense an opportunity. "I've got an A in my AP English, and a B+ in APUSH. I can help you out if you want."
"Really? That'd be great, thanks!" she says sincerely, pulling a notebook and novel from her bag. "We're reading To Kill a Mockingbird right now."
"Read it last year," you say. "What part?"
"We're right around the end of the Tom Robinson case." She goes on to explain her analysis of the previous chapters. You listen intently, but your eyes begin to wander at her chest. She's leaning into you, her rack directly beneath your gaze. She smells like blueberries.
"And so, I'm just wondering whether or not Jem and Scout will be able to handle a negative outcome," she says, snapping you back to attention. "Uh, yeah. Back when I read it, Jem seemed like he'd have a harder time than Scout, due to his maturer nature at the time, but-" You pause, looking up. Jean is looking at you, focused and listening, her cute, large eyes faced at yours. She's twirling her hair around her pencil, a quirk you've noticed before. You consider leaning in to kiss her.
"Go on," she says.
"Uh, yeah..." you stammer, regaining composure. "Scout- I mean, Jem- reacted a lot worse to-"
"You've got a cute nose," Jean says. You look up again. "Sorry, go on."
"No, what about my nose?" you ask, smiling.
"It's cute," she says plainly, smiling widely.
"What about it's cute?" you say, leaning in.
"I dunno, the way it curves."
"My nose curves cutely?"
"Yeah..." she whispers, leaning in quickly. Your lips meet. You push back eagerly, wrapping your lips around hers. You wrap a hand around her shoulder, drawing her body closer to yours. Her chest pushes against yours, and you feel her soft, ample breasts against you. You wrap your other hand around her, embracing her tightly. She does the same. You tenderly kiss, and Jean moves her butt onto your seat, pushing you left. She positions herself on your lap, pressing against your hardening dick.