More Than One Way To Get An A

Aaliyah caught Samantha staring again. Those pretty eyes kept sliding from textbook to tits like she was starving. Lesson stalled, pussy demanding attention. Aaliyah slammed the papers down and cocked an eyebrow. "What the fuck is wrong with you today?" Samantha chewed her lip, legs pressed tight together. "You're just... you're really hot, Miss Love. I can't think straight when your face is right there." She fidgeted. "I've been thinking about girls a lot lately and I know you've... well, you've done stuff. With women. You know what you're doing. So maybe you could teach me? You're my tutor anyway." Aaliyah snorted. "Christ, you're practically half my age. This is a bad idea." But she remembered her own fumbling first times, the wrong hands, the pointless shame. Samantha's hungry, nervous stare made something snap. Maybe skipping her own mess-ups was worth a bad decision. "Fuck it," Aaliyah said, grabbing Samantha by the ponytail and pulling her close. "Couch. Now." She hiked the student's skirt, spread those young thighs, and taught her the slow circles on the clit first, letting the fingers get slick before sinking two inside. Samantha gasped like she'd never been touched there by anyone with purpose. Aaliyah worked her deliberately, thumb pressing the hood, tongue tracing tight patterns once she went down, tasting every inch until the couch cushions were damp with spit and come. Then she flipped their positions, let Samantha taste her own slick on Aaliyah's fingers while Aaliyah guided her mouth lower, talked her through lapping, sucking, breathing hot between each wet stroke. Test tomorrow or not, the biology she just learned stuck. Aaliyah planned to make damn sure of it.