Close To My Tutor - Miss vivian - Cleavage - POV - Teacher - Shrinking
As a private tutor, Miss Vivian walked towards my desk, her silk blouse rustling with every step she took. Her cleavage, framed by the delicate lace of her blouse, was barely an inch away from my face, casting subtle shadows that played across her curves. Her perfume engulfed me, enveloping me in a sweet, floral cloud.
She leaned over to scrutinize my paper, her breasts brushing against my cheek as she spoke about the confusing nature of the question. The warmth of her skin sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but stare at the inviting expanse of her cleavage.
Suddenly, her posture stiffened, and she cleared her throat sharply. Her manicured nails gleamed as she rested her hand on her hip, looking down at me with narrowed eyes. She snapped her fingers, and the world around us blinked out.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself on a plush couch with Miss Vivian standing over me. Her blouse was rumpled, the top buttons undone to reveal more of her ample cleavage. Her voice, smooth as honey, explained that she'd seen my wandering eyes, and she couldn't have someone like me tarnishing her stellar reputation.
She had a plan, she said, her breath hot on my ear. She would inundate me with what I craved, bring me so close to her perfection that I'd learn to focus beyond it. With a gentle yet firm grip, she plucked me from the couch and deposited me into her cleavage, a valley of soft, smooth skin.
Her voice was laden with amusement as she ordered me to admire her, taking in every detail. Her skin was flawless, like fresh cream, and her scent was intoxicating. She shifts slightly, and her breasts part just enough for her to tuck me between them. They press against me, warm and heavy, as she laughs, a low, sultry sound that vibrates through her chest.
Miss Vivian moves to the floor, her body poised above me on her hands and knees. She teases me, her breasts swaying just out of reach. Then, with a mischievous grin, she lowers herself onto her forearms, her breasts looming above me like twin moons. She feigns fatigue, her body trembling slightly as her breasts descend, inch by agonizing inch, until they envelop me completely.
Her voice is laced with amusement as she asks if her breasts are too much for me, if I can even breathe beneath their weight. She pushes up, her body rising above me once more. Her breasts hover, a promise, a threat, before she descends again, laughing as she smothers me. She flexes her arms, curling around me, crushing me against her firm, smooth skin.
Her blouse is discarded, left to pool on the floor as she presses me to her bare chest. Her skin is hot, her breasts even softer than I imagined. She explores with me, her fingers guiding me along her collarbone, her throat, before plunging me back into her cleavage.
Finally, she cradles me in her hands, bringing me up to her face. Her eyes, a vivid green, sparkle with amusement and something darker, more intense. She talks of future lessons, of plans she has for me. But my eyes drift downwards, drawn to the curves of her breasts like a moth to a flame.
She sighs, a sound of mock exasperation, and declares me a hopeless case. If I won't be a good student, she says, her voice a low purr, then I'll be her cleavage slave. And with that, she plunges me back into her cleavage, her laughter ringing in my ears as the world goes dark once more.
