School's Out: The Tutor Redux

Adria sits on the couch, eyes fixed on the page, yet the formulas refuse to stick. She’s still stalled on problem one when Alina walks in. The moment their eyes meet, relief washes over Adria’s face. Alina came to tutor algebra, but the textbook hasn’t moved an inch. "How far did you get?" Alina asks. Adria only smiles and shrugs. On the coffee table lies a dog-eared romance novel. Alina picks it up, lifts an eyebrow, and Adria laughs. "Maybe skip the boys for a night and the numbers might start making sense," Alina teases. Color rushes to Adria’s cheeks. "Boys aren’t really my thing," she admits. "Girls are." Alina’s fingers trace the bare skin above Adria’s knee. "I didn’t know," she says softly. "I’ve never told anyone," Adria answers. "It’s private." Alina nods. "It stays between us." She leans in; their mouths meet. Adria’s surprise melts into heat as Alina pulls her closer. Clothes fall away, buttons popping, fabric slipping to the floor. Alina’s small, natural breasts press against Adria’s, and their tongues find each other again. Alina guides Adria onto her back, then climbs higher until her thighs frame Adria’s face. She lowers herself slowly, and Adria’s tongue parts her folds, tasting, licking, circling. Alina rocks, breath catching, fingers tightening in Adria’s hair. When she can’t wait any longer, Alina slides down, mouth finding Adria’s center. She slips two fingers inside, curling them upward in steady rhythm while her tongue flicks over Adria’s clit. Adria’s hips lift, chasing every thrust, every wet press of Alina’s lips. Their moans mix, urgent and unhurried at once. No equations tonight—just skin, breath, and the soft, wet sounds of two women discovering how much they’ve both been wanting this.