“How can you find the probability of three or fewer earthquakes in both cities combined?”
Scott’s brow furrowed. “I can find the probability of three earthquakes in Tokyo and zero in San Francisco, or two in Tokyo and one or zero in San Fran-”
“There’s an easier way,” I chided him.
He thought for a moment before sudden realization spread across his face. “Oh! They’re independent! So I only need to use one Poisson distribution, whose mean is the sum of the other two means!”
“Great job!” I cheered, using his progress as a pretext for an all-too-brief hug. His broad chest felt strong and safe against my own, his muscles obvious even through multiple layers of clothing. I buried my head against his shoulder for just an instant before reluctantly pulling away. “You’re so smart! You’re really catching on quickly. I’m surprised you even need a tutor. I thought you aced all your classes.”
“I usually do. I don’t know what it is about stats. It just doesn’t click for me.”
“It will! And until then, I’ll tutor you as much as you need it. Until you’re getting an A+!”
“Alright! I think you’re ready to try the practice exam.” I handed him a small packet. “Go use the dining room table.”
“Why not here?” he asked.
“I might distract you. And it’s best to practice under test conditions,” I explained, gazing into his mazarine eyes. “You want it to be as close to the real thing as possible. I’ll come get you when it’s time.”
“Alright. Just give me some time warnings, too, so I can pace myself a bit, okay?” He stood up and gathered his things. His hand went for his cell phone, but I playfully slapped it away.
“No distractions,” I reminded him. “You won’t have a phone during the real thing.” He pouted, but relented. I watched that cute, tight butt of his walk out of my room and down the hallway. I sighed softly and hugged myself once he was out of view. Why couldn’t he be having trouble with more classes so I could spend more time tutoring him? Like French, the language of love ... c’est dommage ... He was just too perfect ... I was lucky he had this one tiny flaw, at least.
Okay, enough gushing. I had my own studying to do. It wouldn’t do for the tutor to fall behind, would it? I opened up my notebook and read through my recent notes. I was really enjoying this class. Maybe I could major in statistics when I got to college next year.
A sudden buzz shook me out of my daydream. Scott’s phone vibrated, slowly skittering across the table. I glanced at the door. I didn’t want to bother him in the middle of his practice test. But what if it were something urgent? It wouldn’t hurt to just check, right? And if it weren’t something important, I’d put it right back.
I flipped his phone over.
There was a chat notification.
The preview read, “Just tell Kathleen that...”
My heart leapt.
That could definitely be important. Maybe someone was telling him to tell Kathleen that there was a fire. Or there was a kitten in trouble. Or World War III had begun. This warranted further investigation.
I went to the door and checked the hallway. Scott was nowhere to be seen. I went back in, took a deep breath, and unlocked his phone. He had checked it earlier, and I had seen his password. Having a head for numbers could be very useful. I found the app the notification had come from, and opened it. I read the full message.
“Just tell Kathleen that giving you a blowjob will boost her GPA. She’ll be gagging on it in a second. That girl would do anything to be valedictorian.”
I scoffed. That was not true! Although, I mean, maybe if that were the only way to become valedictorian, and it were Scott, I might consider it ... Would it really be the worst way to boost my grade? Not that I had ever given one ... I had practiced, for sure, on bananas and cucumbers and bottles, imagining Scott’s moans and groans, but I had never had a real boyfriend. Not unless you counted “going out” with Terry Stevens for two days back in third grade.
Wait, why were they discussing me anyway? I scrolled up for more context. Scott had sent a message. “I’m studying with Kathleen now and I can’t get this boner to go away. What should I do?” I felt a swell of pride in my chest. I made him hard? Wow ... that was flattering ... A blush of warmth spread through my loins. All that time we had been sitting side by side, he had been hiding a hard-on in his jeans? I wished I had noticed...
What sort of group was this? I checked out the details. There were about twenty or so guys from the senior class in it, and it was called Girl Rankings. I scrolled through, my mouth agape. It was full of blunt, crass, completely inappropriate comments about the girls in our grade. And it was making me wet...
“Check out Emily’s jugs today. No way she’s wearing a bra! They’re bouncing everywhere.”
“Amy bent over in front of me in gym class today and she was wearing a thong. I had to go jack off in the locker room. I thought I was gonna jizz my pants.”
“Damn, I want to spank Nina’s ass. She’s thick!”
“Zoe blew me last night. No way she’s a virgin. She sucks like a porn star.”
“I couldn’t take my eyes off Miss Fox’s cleavage today. I’m totally gonna ask her out after graduation!”
“Did you see Kathleen at the water park? She looked like a photo finish at a zeppelin race in that bikini! I wish the water slide had taken her top off.”
I could feel myself blushing, warmth spreading across my cheeks and chest. This was how the boys of our class talked about us when they were safely away from our hearing? We were just tits and asses to them? Holes for their cocks? When I was busy talking to Derek about class during the field trip, he was imagining me naked, fantasizing about my breasts? Beneath that veneer of friendliness, they were horny beasts, planning how they could ravage us? I bit my lip and clenched my thighs, aware of a warm moistness growing in my panties.
There were even polls! Best Ass, Biggest Cocktease, Cutest Face, Sluttiest, Best Tits ... even stuff like Best Armpits and Best Nip Slip. Beneath each poll were messages from the guys, justifying their votes. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I saw that Scott had voted for me for Best Ass, Cutest Face, and Best Tits. And he had voted Maria Gonzalez for Sluttiest. Good choice. She was a total hoe-bag.
I couldn’t help but notice that most of Scott’s comments were about me. “I just love Kathleen’s ass. It’s so big and round. Did you see her in that dress at the dance? I want to bend her over my knee and spank her black and blue.”
I could feel my cheeks burning as I continued, reading his innermost thoughts about me. This is what Scott was thinking while I tutored him? “Kathleen’s got such an adorable face. Her brown, crescent eyes, her little nose, her dimples, and those plump, red lips. Can’t you just picture those wrapped around your cock, bobbing up and down as she stares into your eyes?”
“I’m thinking of asking out Kathleen to prom, what do you guys think? I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a boyfriend, and who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky. Just wish I knew how she felt about me.” He wanted to ask me to prom? My heart raced. Of course I’d say yes. I hoped he’d ask me ... How lucky did he want to get, though? I quietly wondered just how lucky I’d let him get. Probably luckier than I should, but how could I say no to those mazarine eyes, that dashing smile, that handsome, tall face beneath his scruffy, dirty-blonde hair? I felt like a slut for admitting it, but if Scott wanted it, I’d probably do it for him.
I saw my name near the top of a list and paused. I had won second place in the Best Tits poll! I checked whether Scott had voted for me. He had! I beamed. I looked down at my chest. So, they were good for something besides backaches after all...
Just beneath the poll was another message from Scott. “Kathleen’s tits are just perfect. I can barely pay attention in class when she’s sitting next to me in those tight shirts. Those huge, creamy melons are impossible to keep my eyes off of. I want to stand behind her and reach up her shirt. I keep daydreaming about titfucking her.” I blushed. It’s not like I could help it. Most shirts were tight when you had tits the size of cantaloupes ... But ... what was titfucking? How did you fuck a tit?
I kept reading. The next message was a link from Scott, and he had commented, “Just like this,” with a winking emoji. I couldn’t resist my curiosity. I didn’t want to. I clicked on the link. The page opened.
A young, nude woman was sitting next to a handsome man with a rather obvious bulge in his pants. Her hands were on his thigh, rubbing it up and down hungrily, as though she were starved for its presence. She tore open his pants and tugged them down, revealing a long, thick cock, proudly erect. I bit my lip, wondering how Scott’s compared.
The camera switched to his point of view. His manhood rose magnificently between his thighs, proof of his potency, his virility. And above it, waiting eagerly, was the naked woman, her full, heavy breasts even larger than my own. Although, I noticed, they weren’t quite as perky. She spat onto her breasts and massaged them until they glistened. She then enveloped his cock with her breasts and began to bounce up and down, her hands over her breasts, keeping his shaft inside of her cleavage as she caressed his cock with her tits.
.... There is more of this story ...