Chapter 1

The moment Haley’s feet step into Haven High, she feels a strange, tingling sensation at the base of her neck but thinks nothing of it. She adjusts the straps of her backpack and heads toward her Health class, nervously twisting a strand of her hair. As she pushes open the door, her eyes at once land on the words written on the chalkboard. “Frank Conversation, a real exploration of female sexuality.” Her cheeks instantly flush a shade of crimson, a visible sign of her embarrassment.

She thinks to herself, “Why did I have to pick the front seat? Everyone’s going to see me!” She gulps, the tightness in her throat evident.

As she gingerly makes her way to her assigned seat, the soft fabric of her athletic shorts and t-shirt swishing softly with each step, her mind races. She can hear the faint giggles and murmurs of her classmates discussing the topic, which only makes her heart race faster. The familiar smell of chalk dust fills the room, mixed with a slight scent of sweat from students who’ve just had gym class. The whole setting is suddenly overwhelmingly intimate for Haley, and she wishes she could melt into her seat and disappear.

She mutters under her breath, her voice quivering, “This is going to be a loooong class.”

“Okay class settle down,” Miss Simmons calls out as the bell rings, “I need a volunteer, and it has to be a girl.” She looks about the room, but nobody raises their hands, “Okay Haley, would you be willing to come up to the front of the room and help us get started?”

Haley’s heart skips a beat. Of all the people in the room, Miss Simmons had to pick her out. The tingle from earlier returns, urging her to comply. Although every fiber of her being screams at her to decline, she feels a strange compulsion to agree.

Gulping audibly, she timidly nods, her voice barely above a whisper, “Uhm ... Okay, Miss Simmons.” She gets up from her seat, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, trying to mask her nervousness. The cold, hard tiles feel cool under her feet, causing a subtle shiver to run up her spine as she approaches the front.

The rustling of papers and shifting of chairs amplifies in the silent room. Her t-shirt clings to her petite frame, her heart pounding so hard she’s sure everyone can hear it. The faint aroma of Miss Simmons’ perfume reaches her nostrils, a blend of roses and something spicy, contrasting sharply with the cold, sterile classroom air.

Standing at the front, she looks down, blushing profusely, and says in a shaky voice, “What ... what do you want me to do, Miss Simmons?”

Miss Simmons looks at Haley with a comforting smile and says, “Dear, we’ll just start with some questions and see where things go from there. Now, you look to have some relatively small breasts, what size are they? A-cup? B-cup? And how long ago did you start to develop them?”

Haley feels a hot rush of embarrassment wash over her, her face turning an even deeper shade of red, if that was even possible. Standing in front of the class, discussing such intimate details about her body was mortifying. Yet, that strange compulsion from earlier nudges her to answer.

She hesitates for a moment, trying to find her voice, “Uhm ... Yes, Miss Simmons, I’m ... I’m an A-cup.” Her voice quivers, and she unconsciously wraps her arms around herself, as if trying to shield her petite frame from prying eyes. “I started ... developing when I was about... 12, I think.”

Haley tries to avoid eye contact with her classmates, feeling their stares burning into her. She swallows hard, hoping this ordeal would end soon. The classroom’s ambient noise - the hum of the air conditioner, the faint scribbling of notes, the subtle clearing of throats - seems amplified tenfold in the weight of the moment.

Miss Simmons nodded knowingly, “So they started developing about 2 or 3 years ago? Would that be right?”

“Y-yes, Miss Simmons,” Haley stammers, her eyes darting downward. “About three years ago.” She shifts from foot to foot, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room. The knowledge that she’s been developing for only three years makes her feel more exposed than she ever has before, her petite frame feeling smaller and more vulnerable under the scrutiny. She squeezes her arms tighter around herself, the soft cotton of her t-shirt offering little comfort. The constant, steady hum of the fluorescent lights above only adds to the intensity of the moment. She chews on her lower lip, anxiety evident in her every move.

“Miss Fitz,” the teacher continued, using Haley’s last name, “I need you to lower your arms and not cover your breasts, please? We need to let your classmates see what we are discussing. Now, would you say they are sensitive? And how would you say they respond to gentle stroking?”

Haley’s chest feels tight, her breath catching in her throat at the teacher’s request. She hesitates, but slowly, and reluctantly, lowers her arms to her sides. The cool air of the room makes her even more aware of her small breasts beneath the fabric of her shirt.

“Uhm ... I-I guess they’re sensitive,” Haley admits, her voice barely audible. Her cheeks burn brighter if that was even possible. “I’ve n-never really ... you know ... stroked them, Miss Simmons.” Her words tumble out in a rush, the embarrassment making her eyes well up with tears. She can hear the soft whispers and giggles of her classmates, the soft buzz of the lights, and her own heartbeat echoing loudly in her ears. The mixture of curiosity and embarrassment is overpowering, and she wishes she could just disappear.

“You haven’t? Oh! Well,” the teacher paused while Haley waited with sinking feeling for her to continue, “Ah, well, then why don’t you stroke then now and tell the class how they respond to it? Hopefully your t-shirt and bra aren’t too much of an impediment to your sensitivity?”

The mere suggestion sends a jolt of shock through Haley’s system. The air feels thick, and every sound seems magnified. She gulps audibly, looking wide-eyed at Miss Simmons. The room feels suddenly too hot, the temperature in stark contrast to the cold chill that runs down her spine. She is overwhelmed with embarrassment but feels the strange pull of the spell compelling her to comply.

Haley’s shaky hand hesitates for a second, then slowly moves toward her chest. The soft cotton of her t-shirt feels cool against her fingertips. As she tentatively begins to stroke the outline of her breast over her clothing, a surprising warmth emanates from the area, a stark contrast to the cool room. A soft gasp escapes her lips, the sensation stronger than she anticipated.

She quickly retracts her hand, her voice quavering, “It ... it feels ... sensitive, Miss Simmons. More than I thought.” The classroom’s murmurs and whispers grow louder, and she feels a mix of shock, vulnerability, and embarrassment, wishing she could hide from the intense attention.

“More than you thought? Interesting? Is it more sensitive than when you touch yourself? I assume you touch yourself,” The teacher waited for Haley to nod shyly before continuing, “Do you think that might be due to your embarrassment?”

Haley’s face feels like it’s on fire, the heat radiating from her cheeks. The mention of touching herself in such a public setting causes her stomach to flip. She hesitates for a moment, struggling with her words.

“Uhm ... yes, I ... I mean, I’ve touched myself ... a bit,” she admits sheepishly, feeling every gaze in the room fixed on her. “But this ... in front of everyone ... I think the embarrassment makes it feel ... um, more intense.” She fidgets with the hem of her t-shirt, desperately trying to divert her mind from the overwhelming sensation and the situation she finds herself in. The continuous hum of the lights and the sporadic whispers from her classmates only amplified her unease.

“Interesting ... Would you like to slide your hand up under your shirt and bra, and see if pinching a nipple is more intense here, in front of your classmates, than in the privacy of your bedroom? You know what? Why don’t you go ahead and try?”

The request pushes Haley’s feelings of vulnerability and unease to new heights. Her blue eyes widen further, her mouth dry as the desert. But that inexorable pull, the strange compulsion from the spell, nudges her forward.

Hesitantly, almost mechanically, Haley’s trembling hand slides beneath her t-shirt, then further under the fabric of her cotton bra. The touch of her own fingers against her sensitive skin sends a shiver throughout her frame. She delicately pinches her nipple, a sharp intake of breath revealing the spike in sensitivity.

“I-It’s definitely more intense,” Haley stammers, pulling her hand out quickly, her eyes darting around the room, absorbing the mix of shock, curiosity, and amusement on her classmates’ faces. The sensation, amplified by the embarrassment and the public setting, makes her legs feel weak. “M-Much more than in my room,” she admits, her voice but a whisper. The weight of the situation bears down on her, making her wish she could simply vanish.

Haley blushes at the laughs and giggles of her classmates.

“Well let’s continue with our questions why don’t we? I think we’ve already admitted that you touch yourself, masturbate if you will. I’m very proud of you for admitting that so soon, that will let me progress so much further without needing another volunteer.” Haley blushes and looks at her feet, not meeting the stares of her classmates.

“So, Haley, how many times a week, or day, do you masturbate?” Miss Simmons continues.

The laughter and whispers of her classmates feel like a cacophony, echoing in her ears, further deepening her blush. The intimate question causes Haley’s heart to race even faster, its rhythm a staccato beat of nervousness.

She wishes she could melt into the floor, to avoid this personal interrogation. Yet, even with the weight of all those stares on her, that strange compulsion nudges her to answer.

“Uhm ... maybe ... m-maybe like three times a week?” she responds, her voice soft and shaky. She keeps her gaze directed downward, her fingers nervously fidgeting with a loose strand of her shirt. “Sometimes more ... s-sometimes less,” she adds, her voice barely above a whisper. The feeling of the classroom’s cold linoleum floor against her sneakers, the rustling of papers, the stifled laughs – all these sensations and sounds amplify her acute sense of vulnerability.

“Sometimes more, sometimes less,” the teacher repeats, “So in a good week,” she winks, “how many more times would you say? If you had to guess what’s the most times you’ve played with yourself in a single day been?”

The wink from Miss Simmons feels like a jolt, emphasizing the absurdity and awkwardness of the situation. Haley’s cheeks turn an even deeper shade of crimson, and she feels a tightness in her chest. She mentally braces herself, taking a deep breath before answering.

“On a ... a good week, maybe ... five times?” Haley admits hesitantly, her voice tremulous. “And, uhm ... the most in a single day would be ... twice?” She mumbles the last part, hoping it would get lost amidst the background noise. She can feel the weight of every single stare in the room, the curious eyes of her classmates piercing her very being, adding layers to her already overwhelming embarrassment. She wishes for a way to escape, but the pull of the spell keeps her anchored in place.

“Only twice?! Wow! Well, hopefully today we can improve on that score! Now Haley would you feel comfortable taking off your shirt and shorts to let your classmates see you in your panties and bra?”

Again, Haley wanted to refuse, but the spell compelled her to agree with any request.

Every fiber of Haley’s being screams in protest, the audacity of the request making her feel light-headed. The background murmurings from her classmates increase, their anticipation palpable in the air. Her heart feels like it’s trying to break free from her chest, pounding loudly in her ears.

She tries to summon the courage to speak, her voice coming out in a shaky whisper, “If ... if it’s necessary for the lesson, I ... I guess I can.” The words feel foreign, not truly her own, the force of the spell driving her actions.

With unsteady hands, she reaches down and starts peeling off her shirt, revealing her simple cotton bra beneath. Then, with more trepidation, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of her athletic shorts, pushing them down to reveal matching panties. The coolness of the classroom air makes her shiver, goosebumps rising on her skin as she stands there, clad in only her underwear, the center of attention for everyone in the room. The stark vulnerability she feels is punctuated by the soft gasps and muffled comments from her peers.

As Haley stands, humiliated, in front of her class, Miss Simmons looks down at her panties and says, “Oh dear, is that wet spot from this class? Or, were you horny before you got to school?”

Haley’s eyes widen in shock as her gaze follows Miss Simmons’, landing on the noticeable damp spot on her panties. Her heart rate surges again, a flush of embarrassment warming her skin even more. She bites her lower lip, struggling to find words.

“I ... I wasn’t ... I mean, I didn’t feel this way before class,” Haley stammers, her voice barely audible. Every moment feels like an eternity, her vulnerability amplified by the realization of her body’s visible reaction. “It must’ve been ... uh, from the ... the activities in class,” she adds quickly, hoping to deflect some of the focus off her. The sound of a few suppressed giggles from her classmates makes her feel even smaller, her posture shrinking as she tries to cover herself a bit with her hands.

“So ... dear stop covering yourself!” Miss Simmons gave Haley a stern look, “I take it from the wet spot on your panties that you are enjoying this? If so, why don’t you make sure your nipples stick out from that little bra of yours?”

The sternness in Miss Simmons’ voice makes Haley instinctively drop her hands to her sides, revealing her body once more to the prying eyes of her classmates. The comment about her damp panties sends another wave of mortification through her, the blend of arousal and embarrassment making her thoughts foggy.

She hesitates for a moment, feeling a burning sensation in her cheeks. Her fingers tremble slightly as she tentatively reaches for her bra-covered breasts, her touch light as she grazes over the soft cotton, trying to coax her nipples into prominence. As she does, an involuntary moan escapes her lips, the combination of the cool air, her own touch, and the eyes upon her proving more stimulating than she had imagined. The room seems to get even quieter, with only the rustling of papers and the muted whispers of her classmates accompanying her soft moans.

“Haley? Was that a moan I just heard from you? If so, why don’t you keep doing what caused it while you explain to the class why you think you are making the sounds you are making?”

Haley’s face turns a deep shade of red, realizing that everyone had clearly heard her inadvertent moan. She gulps, trying to find her voice amidst her overwhelming embarrassment.

“Y-yes, Miss Simmons,” she begins, her voice quivering. Her fingers continue to gently tease her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra, and the sensation sends a mixture of pleasure and unease through her. “I think ... I think I moaned because ... it feels sensitive when I touch them, especially with everyone watching. It’s ... it’s embarrassing, but also kind of ... arousing? I can’t really explain it. The mixture of attention, the situation, and my own touch ... it’s all just ... overwhelming.”

As she speaks, the combination of her words and actions heightens her arousal, causing her breathing to grow heavier and her body to feel even more on edge. The situation felt both wrong and enticing all at once, her body betraying her with its reactions.

“Oh My! Look,” Miss Simmons points to Haley’s panties, “Look how much larger the wet spot has gotten, she must be enjoying this. Haley, would you like to take your bra off?”

With a reluctant nod, compelled by the mysterious force, Haley reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. The room’s temperature seems to drop, causing a chill to run down her spine. Every movement is deliberate, every sound heightened. The murmur of the class and the shuffle of seats around her become all too prominent.

The petite straps fall off her shoulders, and she hesitates for a moment, clutching the bra to her chest. Taking a deep breath, she lets the soft cotton garment drop to the floor. Her breasts, although small, stand pert with her hardened nipples clearly displayed, bearing testament to her heightened state of arousal.

She shifts from foot to foot, uncomfortable under the gazes of her classmates. Haley’s voice is a faint whisper, “Yes, Miss Simmons...” She avoids direct eye contact, looking anywhere but at the eyes fixated on her. Her inner turmoil is clear; the conflict between her inherent shyness and the force compelling her to comply making her body thrum with tension.

“Haley, would those little hard nipples like you to pinch and roll them? If you want to go ahead.” The teacher pauses for a moment and then continues, “While you do that, why don’t you tell us a common fantasy you have while playing with yourself, go ahead and take your time, don’t leave anything to the imagination!”

Haley’s fingers hesitantly move up to her small breasts, her fingertips gently pinching and rolling the sensitive buds. Each touch sends a jolt of pleasure directly to her core, making her wetter. The eyes on her magnify the sensation, the public display of her intimacy intensifying her arousal.

Her voice shaky, Haley starts, “There’s this one fantasy I have sometimes...” Her blush deepens, realizing she’s about to share a deeply personal secret. “ ... where I’m being watched, kind of like right now. But it’s by someone I have a crush on. We’re in a secluded place, and they’re just ... watching me from a distance, not touching, just watching as I ... touch myself. They can see everything, every movement, every shiver, every moan.”

The reality of her situation mirrors her fantasy in an eerily perfect way, amplifying her arousal. Her voice grows softer, almost a moan, as she continues, “I imagine them getting turned on by seeing me, and it just makes me want to tease and please even more.”

The room fills with her soft moans as she continues to play with her nipples, revealing the depths of her intimate fantasy while her body responds with a heightened sense of pleasure.

“Haley, correct me if I’m wrong, but you are attracted to girls, right? Is there a girl here in class you find sexy? One who can fulfill your fantasy for you?”

Haley’s heart races even faster at the direct question. She gulps, eyes flitting nervously around the room. She’s never openly discussed her attractions or even admitted them to herself. The weight of the situation and the pressure to answer makes her momentarily dizzy.

She finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper, “Yes, Miss Simmons ... I do find girls attractive.” Another pause, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. “I’ve always ... thought ... Jessica,” her eyes dart to a girl seated in the third row with long auburn hair and a slightly flushed face, “was ... really beautiful.”

Jessica’s eyes widen in surprise, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. The room is electric with tension, and the classmates exchange glances, whispers flowing in hushed tones. Haley’s confession and her clear vulnerability deepen the intimacy of the moment. Her fingers idly playing with her nipples, lost in the reality of her own words and feelings.

As soon as Haley mentions Jessica, the redhead feels something strange settle over her mind forcing her to agree to any request just like Haley.

“Jessica,” Miss Simmons says, “Would you please come up here as well and stand next to Haley for me?”

Jessica’s eyes dart around the room, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The spell’s influence compelling her, she rises from her seat with a graceful elegance and walks hesitantly towards the front, joining Haley. Their eyes meet, sharing an unspoken tension, their mutual vulnerability clear.

As Jessica stands next to Haley, their contrasting appearances become clear. Jessica’s figure is slightly curvier than Haley’s, her modest bust straining against her white blouse. Her long auburn hair cascades down her back, contrasting with Haley’s shorter, wavy blonde locks.

Miss Simmons, relishing the charged atmosphere she’s orchestrated, asks, “Jessica, how do you feel standing next to Haley, knowing she finds you attractive?”

Jessica blushes deeply, her voice trembling, “I ... I’m surprised ... and flattered. I’ve never thought of Haley ... that way before.” She takes a nervous breath. “But now ... now that she’s said it ... I don’t know. It’s ... confusing.”

The room is silent, save for the faint sound of the girls’ nervous breathing, their close proximity creating a palpable tension. The classmates watch with bated breath, anticipating the next twist in this unexpected turn of events.

“Okay, Okay ... Now Jessica, it looks like your breasts are a bit larger than Haley’s. What are you? A B-cup or a C-cup? And indulge my curiosity, do your freckles continue down over them?” Miss Simmons asks.

Jessica’s cheeks deepen in shade, her embarrassment overtly clear. “Um ... I’m a B-cup,” she murmurs, her gaze fixed intently on the ground. Fidgeting slightly, she adds, “And yes, some of my freckles ... um ... they continue a bit down my chest.” Her voice carries an undercurrent of shyness, contrasting starkly with her usually confident demeanor.

Haley finds herself glancing sidelong at Jessica, unable to help but let her imagination run wild, wondering just how those freckles might look. The proximity, the charged atmosphere, and now the fresh knowledge of Jessica’s physique makes her heart race faster. The subtle scent of Jessica’s perfume, a blend of vanilla and jasmine, only adds to the overwhelming sensory experience.

Miss Simmons, always one to press her advantage, asks, “Would you be comfortable showing the class your freckles, Jessica?” Jessica hesitates, the weight of the spell compelling her, but her personal sense of modesty warring within. Finally the spell win’s out and she nods shyly.

“Haley,” the teacher continues,” Would you like to unbutton and remove Jessica’s blouse? Let’s see what she has underneath.”

Haley’s fingers tremble slightly as she reaches out, her fingers brushing against the first of Jessica’s blouse buttons. She hears a collective gasp from the class and feels a few eyes burning holes into her, watching her every move.

The tactile sensation of the cool, smooth button under her fingers contrasts with the warmth radiating from Jessica’s body. “Um, is this okay, Jessica?” Haley hesitantly asks, her voice betraying the inner turmoil she’s experiencing.

Jessica gives her a nervous nod, her eyelashes casting shadows on her blushing cheeks. “Y-yeah, go ahead.”

Haley proceeds to undo each button slowly, revealing a delicate lace bra underneath that does little to hide the freckles trailing down Jessica’s chest. The fabric slides off Jessica’s shoulders, pooling at her feet, and leaving her standing exposed from the waist up save for her bra. The room is thick with tension and anticipation, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of the two girls and the murmurs of their classmates.

“Now I take it that neither of you girls have ever touched anyone other than yourselves sexually before? Is that true?”

Haley’s eyes darted to the floor, her cheeks burning with heat. “Yes, Miss Simmons, I ... I’ve never touched anyone else,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Jessica shifted nervously from one foot to the other, her fingers playing with the hem of her skirt. “Same here, Miss Simmons. It’s just been ... um, just me.” She sounded equally mortified, both of them vulnerable in this intimate atmosphere. The room seemed to close in as the weight of their admissions filled the space.

“Good, that will make today much more interesting! Now Jessica, Haley said she plays with herself about 3 times a week, how about you? Do you play with yourself more or less than her?” Miss Simmons continued.

Jessica’s blue eyes widened, and she glanced at Haley, a hint of sympathy shared between the two girls. “Um,” Jessica began, her voice shaky, “I guess ... maybe a bit more? Perhaps four or five times a week?” The flush on her cheeks deepened, making her freckles stand out even more, and she gnawed at her lower lip, evidently struggling with the embarrassment of the situation.

“Did you masturbate yesterday? Or has it been a few days?” the teacher asked Jessica.

Jessica hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering across the room before finally settling on the floor. “Um, yes ... I did ... yesterday,” she admitted, her voice quivering with every word. The weight of the class’s collective gaze made her shuffle her feet, and she tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, trying to find some semblance of composure.

Nodding, Miss Simmons turned her attention back to the smaller of the two girls, “Haley, you really have made a mess of yourself down there, haven’t you?” She indicated the very large wet spot on Haley’s panties, “I’m going to touch you, is that okay?”

Haley felt the spell force her head to nod slightly as shame at how wet she had become filled her.

Miss Simmons then reached down and cupped the teen’s pussy, squeezing her swollen lips gently. Haley gasped as her teacher pressed a finger into her folds causing her panties to mold themselves to the contours of her aroused sex. Then her hips jerked as the older woman softly flicked the teen’s clit as she removed her hand.

Stepping back, Miss Simmons turned to face the class, “Now class, are you able to see the outline of Haley’s sex better? If not go ahead and move up to a closer seat.”

The class fell silent for a moment, the atmosphere thick with tension and anticipation. Some students shifted in their seats, trying to get a clearer view, while others seemed frozen in shock at what was unfolding before them.

Jessica watched with wide eyes, her own heart racing as she stood next to Haley, trying to process what had just happened.

Haley, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of emotions. The combination of the spell, the public attention, and Miss Simmons’s touch was overwhelming. She felt heat rising up her neck, her face flushed and her body tingling with a mix of arousal and embarrassment.

A couple of brave students, taking advantage of the teacher’s invitation, moved closer to the front, curious and eager to see everything. The murmurs of disbelief and nervous giggles echoed around the room, but all eyes were now fixed on Haley.

Miss Simmons, having regained the class’s full attention, took a moment to survey the room, her eyes scanning each student individually, as if to gauge their reactions.

“Now Jessica, before we check, do you think you are as wet as Haley here?”

Jessica hesitated for a moment, feeling a mix of emotions and under the influence of the spell, she said in a shaky voice, “I ... I don’t know, Miss Simmons. Maybe? Everything is so intense right now.”

Haley looked over at Jessica, feeling a sense of camaraderie as they both navigated this surreal experience together. Their vulnerability was on display for all their peers to see, and in that moment, there was a silent understanding between them.

Miss Simmons regarded Jessica thoughtfully, then glanced at Haley’s clearly visible arousal. “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” she said with a smirk, turning her attention back to the flustered redhead.

“Haley, would you please help Jessica remove her jeans? They look a bit tight.”

Haley, though embarrassed and still trying to process the situation, obeyed the teacher’s request. She slowly approached Jessica, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before she reached for the button on Jessica’s jeans. The classroom was filled with palpable tension, every student’s eyes fixed on the two girls in the center of the room.

With shaky hands, Haley began to unbutton Jessica’s jeans, then gingerly pulled down the zipper. She could feel Jessica’s body heat emanating through the thin fabric. As the jeans began to slide down Jessica’s legs, Haley could see the outline of her panties, hinting at the level of Jessica’s arousal.

Miss Simmons, always observing and directing, added, “Make sure to fold them neatly and place them on my desk, Haley. We want to be respectful of each other’s belongings.”

Jessica stepped out of the jeans, her face a deep shade of red. The two girls stood side by side, now both reduced to their lingerie in front of the entire class.

Miss Simmons took a moment to take in the sight of the two girls, the smaller one in just her strawberry patterned panties, wet and molded to her folds. The redhead in her green bra and panties, blushing so hard, her freckles looked like they were spreading.

“Well, what a visual we have here,” Miss Simmons remarked, taking her time to let her gaze drift from one girl to the other. “Jessica, your freckles seem to stand out more with your blushing. It’s quite endearing. And Haley, those strawberry-patterned panties really make it easier to spot your ... enthusiasm.”