Chapter Text
Apples.
Gojou’s lip gloss tastes like apples. Yuuji doesn’t know why she’s surprised—it’s not like she has ever wondered what it’d taste like. She doesn’t think so, at least. But she’s realizing that a part of her had decided it would be something different. Strawberries, maybe. Something tart and sweet and petal pink.
But real strawberries are as red as apples, and Gojou’s plenty tart here on Yuuji’s tongue.
She’s not really kissing back, though she’s not stopping Yuuji either. Her lips are soft, and when Yuuji slits her eyes open to peer down, she finds them gleaming wetly despite the gloss now being smeared between their mouths. The dark red streaks there are Yuuji’s fault though.
Yuuji licks her own lips, tasting the mingled blandness of the products on their lips, and their mouths are so close together that the tip of her tongue touches Gojou too. There’s a reaction then—a slight parting of the lips, a soft exhale.
Yuuji’s tempted to chase that sound deeper into Gojou’s mouth, but she draws back instead, careful not to let her knees slip off the edge of the bed.
Gojou’s eyes are half closed. She’s not looking at Yuuji.
She was when Yuuji kissed her. All that blue, watching and waiting. Yuuji was the one who closed her eyes when their lips met. And she was expecting a devouring—something to match the way Gojou smiled at her in the car when Yuuji confessed to liking her women tall. It’s only now that she wonders how Gojou would’ve reacted if Yuuji had added the rest of her usual type. Gojou fits it to a T, and she’d know it. Yuuji has a feeling she’d have shown it too, spilling toothy hunger in the shape of a smile.
But Yuuji can’t see any of that hunger on Gojou’s face now. With Yuuji no longer keeping her face upturned for a kiss, Gojou’s slumped a little, her cheeks squished against Yuuji’s palms. She seems almost listless, staring down at her lap with those barely open eyes.
It doesn’t suit her at all—the expression, the posture, none of it.
Yuuji takes a deep breath, frowning at the smell of spirit.
Is Gojou too drunk?
She tugs Gojou’s face back up. “Hey.”
There’s a long, slow blink. A slower smile, all sloppy around the edges. “Yuuji.”
Yuuji’s chest and cunt react very predictably. Might be the fastest habit she’s ever formed.
Gojou looks happy now. Her eyes are still heavy-lidded, but they’re sparkling prettily under the golden lighting, and her lips keep that sweet, slightly crooked curve.
Guess she’s just an absent-minded drunk. Yuuji’s run into that a few times too, though there’s something about Gojou that feels different. But then, everything about Gojou feels different. Yuuji’s no stranger to women who make the whole world feel terribly small, but Gojou still feels special somehow.
“Hey,” Yuuji says again, smiling helplessly herself. “You gotta kiss me back, Gojou-sensei.”
Gojou makes a thin little noise, all there in the throat. Her lips tremble, parting like she’s about to speak, and nothing comes out, not even Yuuji’s name in that happy, surprised tone, but when Yuuji sways forward to press their mouths together again, Gojou kisses her back.
It’s immediately different. Gojou’s lips slide against Yuuji’s with silken smoothness, and they’re so plush, yielding sweetly at the slightest pressure but still leaving Yuuji feeling like there’s more to kiss, more to taste, and when a greedy swipe of her tongue turns the kiss wet, Gojou opens her mouth like she wants it inside.
Yuuji gives it to her, licking in with a needy noise that dies splattered between their tongues. It’s hot and wet and heady, drenching Yuuji’s tongue and her head with the familiar taste of alcohol grown ripe on warm human flesh. It blends with the fading apple notes of Gojou’s lip gloss, leaving Yuuji swallowing hungrily around a flavor that has no name and no limits, and it changes with every passing moment, the blander but headier taste of skin and flesh piercing through and showing true until Yuuji’s breathing and tasting and living something that’s wholly, uniquely Gojou Satoru.
And like everything else about this woman, it’s intoxicating.
Yuuji wonders if her own taste is seeping into Gojou the same way, heating her tongue and her throat with some unnameable essence that Yuuji herself can’t know. She hopes so. It’s only fair.
And Yuuji wants very badly to work herself into this woman until her skin and her flesh and her bones are heavy and hot with it.
The kiss breaks with a wet sound, and the air between them grows damp and hot with their breaths. Yuuji catches a glimpse of dilated pupils, their liquid dark only making the blue of Gojou’s irises burn brighter, and then Gojou’s mouth is back on hers, warm flesh crushed together with the force of it.
Yuuji draws away on instinct, but she leans back in before Gojou has to chase her. She finds an open mouth, hot and wet, and slides back into it, immediately flooded with a taste that makes hunger bite into her from gut to cunt.
Yuuji bites too, catching Gojou’s lower lip between her teeth.
Hands slam into her waist, sharpened nails digging into bare skin, and Yuuji has the belated realization that Gojou wasn’t even touching her this whole time. And now she seems to be trying to make up for it, squeezing Yuuji’s sides with a force that threatens to bruise before sliding those hands all over her back and stomach.
Splayed palms press into her abs while a lone thumbnail drags up her spine, and Yuuji doesn’t mean to, but the new sensations battering her are thrilling and distracting all at once, and her teeth sink a little too deep into Gojou’s flesh.
Nothing breaks, there’s no blood, but all of Gojou jolts with a guttural groan—and Yuuji knows pleasure when she hears it.
The nails now digging into her back and stomach are pretty telling too.
Yuuji sucks on the lip she bit, too rough and hot to be kind. Gojou arches against her, shoving her heavy tits all up against Yuuji, and the last of Yuuji’s restraint snaps with a soundless sound that echoes in her soul, her bones, her teeth.
She slides her hands down, palming the deceptively delicate curve of Gojou’s neck and the solid lines of her shoulders and continuing down, past the jut of her collarbones and the lush yield of soft skin, until she’s cupping the full heft of those breasts, half clothed and half bare.
When she squeezes, her fingers just sink into fabric and flesh.
Gojou gasps, a wet little noise that shudders against Yuuji’s mouth. Her hands close into fists against Yuuji’s body, the nails scraping her raw on the way. Her mouth is open, hot, wet.
Yuuji licks at those trembling lips, pulling back before Gojou can catch her and keep her there, and those nuclear eyes bore into Yuuji as she shoves her teacher down onto the bed, still gripping two thick fistfuls of tits.
Gojou hits the mattress with a thud that’s more felt than heard, but the little noise she makes, her expression and tone both halfway between confused and scandalized, lands right in Yuuji’s gut. The sheets ripple too—a slate grey that brings out every bit of color on Gojou, from the snowy splatter of her hair to the vivid red of her dress. Her skin is more golden than pale under this light, and it’s…perfect.
She’s perfect.
Yuuji creeps forward a little so she can straddle Gojou and look her fill without flirting with the very edge of the mattress, and it’s not even on purpose, the way her hands dig deeper into Gojou’s chest, flexing and squeezing, but Gojou lets out a strangled moan, tossing her head and shifting her legs. She even grabs Yuuji’s hands, strong fingers snapping tight around her wrists, but she doesn’t make Yuuji let go.
Yuuji drags her eyes from Gojou’s chest to her face, looking right into those burning eyes as she squeezes, tight and deliberate. Naked flesh bulges up against her hand, spilling out from between her fingers. The satiny fabric already seemed to be struggling to contain Gojou’s tits, and the more Yuuji squeezes, the more it seems on the verge of just slipping down, baring everything.
But it doesn’t, and Yuuji’s left with bare skin and warm cloth filling her grip, both so obscenely supple. Even the contrast is thrillingly dirty.
Gojou’s panting open-mouthed, her eyes dark. Under them, her cheeks are dark too. There are even splotches of red on her throat and shoulders. Yuuji can’t not look further down, and her breath is punched out of her by the sight of her fingers sunk into Gojou’s half-clothed chest.
They’re so big. Yuuji doesn’t have small hands, not really. They suit her frame, at least. But Gojou’s tits make them look small, like they’ll sink right into her flesh with just a little bit more pressure, and Yuuji’s hands move like they have a mind of their own, easing their grip just to snap back shut around soft fabric and softer skin, tight and rough and greedy, and the flesh swelling out from the gaps between her fingers sends filthy heat pooling in the pit of her belly.
It drips down too, soaking into her panties.
She does it again, groping and squeezing Gojou’s breasts, trying a new angle every time, and there’s so much there that it’s never the same, the sight and the sensation all carving brand-new pathways into her brain and her cunt. The flesh doesn’t offer any resistance and the dress doesn’t either, even though it somehow manages to cling to the swell of Gojou’s tits no matter how roughly Yuuji handles them.
There are patches of red on Gojou’s chest now. Yuuji hasn’t done enough to make them bruise. It’s just a creeping blush—a warm red that looks like it’ll be sweet on the tongue.
Yuuji’s mouth waters.
She swallows wetly, spreading her hands wide to grab as much of Gojou as she can, and a heaving gasp answers her clutch, Gojou’s chest pushing up into her hands with a violence that seems torn between greed and rejection, except Gojou’s still gripping Yuuji’s wrists and not doing a thing to pry her away, so they both know what Gojou wants, what she’s letting Yuuji take.
She’s letting Yuuji hear it too, making these soft, needy noises that fill up the air between them. Sometimes, she moves, her shoulders and her thighs rubbing restlessly against the mattress. She doesn’t go anywhere though, and Yuuji doubts it’s because this position doesn’t give Gojou much leverage. She hasn’t even tried to change anything, instead just lying there gasping every time Yuuji squeezes her tits.
Gojou’s very sensitive there, isn’t she? There’s a sympathetic prickling in Yuuji’s own nipples, easily ignored in favor of the sweeter heat between her legs.
Again, she drags her eyes back to Gojou’s face, shivering at what she finds. Gojou’s head is turned to the side, like she’s trying to hide. But Yuuji can still see how tightly she’s screwed her eyes shut and how she’s sucked her lower lip into her mouth. She can see the red staining her cheek and her ear.
The sharp curve of her jaw makes Yuuji feel a little violent.
“Sensei,” she says, her voice coming out hoarse, like half the sounds are still stuck in her throat, “can I—”
Yuuji’s hands move before the question’s even out, gripping the fabric stretched taut across Gojou’s tits to yank it down.
Her breasts bounce free, swaying heavily once, twice, before settling. Gravity flattens them, but that’s not saying much when they’re this big. Still, Yuuji can see the valley between them—a thin strip of skin with beads of sweat running down its length.
But something’s off.
Yuuji touches the gleaming patch covering a nipple, finding what feels like supple plastic.
“Never seen these before,” she murmurs. That’s when she realizes— “Oh, you weren’t wearing a bra.” When Yuuji looks up, Gojou’s single visible eye is boring into her like a laser. “I’m not complaining! Don’t look at me like that, Gojou-sensei!”
Gojou closes her eye.
Yuuji waits for a few, dragging moments, a finger still pressed to the weird little nipple covering. Her other hand’s also hovering in the air over Gojou’s breast. And Gojou’s still holding her wrists, but her grip has slackened into loose, uncertain circles.
The whole thing looks kinda pervy.
“Sensei?” Yuuji prods, half afraid Gojou fell asleep or something. “Can I pull these off?”
“Now she asks.”
“Sensei,” Yuuji whines.
“Do what you wish.”
Before Yuuji can make sense of that strange tone, Gojou lets go of her hands, but she also stops hiding, straightening up to pin Yuuji with her impossibly blue eyes, and there’s something dangerously deliberate about the way she brings her hands to rest on either side of her head, the palms facing up with the fingers curled loosely in.
The position radiates helplessness, but nothing about this woman is that, ever. Yuuji’s the one who feels helpless just looking at her.
She fumbles blindly with the nipple covering, physically unable to take her eyes off the look on Gojou’s face and those tauntingly limp arms, and it’s a little too easy to peel the soft plastic off Gojou’s breast, one after the other, and Yuuji can’t not look then, the fleshy mounds in her periphery calling and haunting.
She looks and looks and looks, her entire body drawing up tight and hot.
Gojou’s nipples are pink—the same sweet-looking shade as her lips. The skin around them is a splatter of darker pink, standing out like beacons against the creamy curves of her breasts.
Yuuji touches trembling fingers to the raised bits of flesh, and they harden into peaks against that barely there touch. She rubs at one, feeling a little like she’s touching a woman here for the first time all over again, and gooseflesh prickles all across Gojou’s chest, making every pore on her skin stand out.
It’s instinct to try to soothe it. That just happens to leave Yuuji with warm, naked flesh filling her hands.
She squeezes them, reverent.
Gojou’s chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths.
“Gojou-sensei,” Yuuji breathes, “your tits are really pretty.”
A low, throaty noise spills from Gojou, and Yuuji glances up in time to see her teeth sink viciously into her own lower lip. She lets go and licks her lips the next moment, with a shaky exhale. No smile or toothy grin follows, only molten blue eyes peering up at Yuuji from above delicately parted lips. Gojou’s flush has darkened, everywhere. Yuuji can feel the blood pulsing under the skin she’s touching.
She tightens her grip, her fingers sinking deeper and deeper into all that soft, yielding flesh, and with the dress out of the way, the size of Gojou’s tits and the way they threaten to swallow Yuuji up are even more obvious, and she doesn’t last a full minute before putting her whole face in them.
Gojou gasps like she’s surprised somehow.
Yuuji burrows in more deeply, pressing both of Gojou’s breasts more firmly against the sides of her face till she’s sandwiched in heady warmth. It’s hard to breathe, her nose flattened against the valley between them. It looks as soft and delicate as the rest of Gojou’s tits, but the skin is stretched thinly over hard bone, and Yuuji knows this but still finds herself surprised and almost sad that she can’t just sink right into this woman’s chest till she’s encased in warm, wet heat.
Wrong body part for that.
She stays like that anyway, her lungs burning more and more with every passing second. There’s a gentle touch on her shoulders, fingertips followed by whole palms, but like before, Gojou doesn’t pull her away or even put any real pressure, just holds Yuuji where she is. Yuuji rubs her face against Gojou; soft flesh yields against the sides of her face, and sweet sweat smears on her lips.
Yuuji draws back for air and dives back down tongue-first, licking a wet stripe up the cleft between Gojou’s tits, all the way to the hollow of her throat. The pleasant bite of sweat shudders into perfumed bitterness as whatever fragrance Gojou dabbed on her throat stings Yuuji’s tongue. It fills her breath too, a heady mix of scents—sweat and perfume and woman.
Gojou’s hands flex on Yuuji’s shoulders, gripping tighter. But she’s also baring her throat, tilting her head up and to the side to give Yuuji better access.
Yuuji drags her tongue up a straining tendon, nipping at the edge of Gojou’s jaw. She opens her mouth, pressing her tongue to the curve of it. It doesn’t cut, but it feels like it should.
“Sensei…” Yuuji’s voice comes out deep and hoarse, unfamiliar even to her own ears. They’ve barely done anything, and yet—but it’s not surprising either. A part of Yuuji knew the moment she saw Gojou in that bar that she’d never be the same again if she could have her.
Maybe she knew even before.
She drags her mouth to Gojou’s, kissing her hard and rough, and Gojou opens up for it like a dream, her tongue wet and clever, and Yuuji forgets what she wanted to say, wanted to do, losing herself to the taste and the heat filling up her mouth.
It’s Gojou who snaps her out of it, breaking the kiss with a pained little noise, and before Yuuji can even ask, she realizes the cause—her own hands on Gojou’s tits, squeezing so tight that she’s crushing the muscle under all the fat.
“Sorry,” she gasps, letting go as best as she can with most of her weight resting on those hands. Finger-shaped marks bloom on Gojou’s flesh, bloodless at first and then flushing a lurid pink. Yuuji braces a hand on Gojou’s shoulder and cups a breast with the other, running her thumb over the nipple and the imprint of her own hand.
Gojou hisses through her teeth.
“Sorry, sensei,” Yuuji says again, staring at the marks—her mark, on this woman. “I’ll make it better.”
“What’re you—” Gojou cuts off with a hot, shocked noise the moment Yuuji’s tongue touches her flesh, and when she sucks that nipple into her mouth, she’s rewarded with a shuddering breath and nails in her skin.
Yuuji shifts into a more stable position, balancing her knees better on either side of Gojou’s hips, and puts both her hands and her mouth on her teacher’s tits.
One of Gojou’s hands darts into Yuuji’s hair, fisting tight in the longer bits. The other one stays dug into Yuuji’s shoulder, sharp nails on breakable skin. Will Gojou make her bleed before the night’s over?
She hopes so. She won’t need a memento to remember this night, but she’d like the marks—the proof that the two of them were alive like this, together.
Yuuji draws back to watch her tongue touch the pretty pink of that nipple. She flicks it, playful, before tracing a wet circle around it. Then another and another, till the darker skin around it is gleaming wet. There’s nothing to taste, only flesh damp with spit, but the smooth skin drawn tight with need is its own feast.
She catches the nipple between her teeth and gives it a gentle tug.
Gojou moans, her fingers briefly turning into claws on Yuuji.
Yuuji flicks her tongue at the flesh trapped in her mouth, biting just a little harder and letting go before she’s tempted to do worse, and she sucks on it after, soothing Gojou as she promised, except the ragged panting coming from above doesn’t sound all that soothed. She licks wetly down the curve of Gojou’s breast, till the tip of her tongue is tucked into the seam of fabric and flesh. She nuzzles into the soft flesh pressed against her face, and Gojou’s hand splays wide over the back of her head like she plans to hold Yuuji there.
Just before she closes her mouth around a strip of creamy skin, she remembers what she wanted to ask before the heat of Gojou’s mouth distracted her.
“Sensei,” she mumbles, her lips moving against Gojou’s skin, “can I leave marks?”
“…Yes.”
Yuuji frowns; that didn’t sound very sure. She nips at the skin under her mouth, and Gojou shivers.
“Here?” Yuuji asks, half to check again, half to just hear that Gojou wants it.
“Yes.” It’s a low hiss, almost angry. Nothing uncertain about it.
Yuuji smiles and sucks a sweet strip of skin into her mouth, closing her eyes to better feel it grow hot and damp against her tongue. When she pulls back, there’s an uneven mass of wetter, redder skin there that’ll grow darker over the next few hours—and then fade forever.
She mouths her way back to the nipple, playing with it a bit. A flex of the tongue, a little bite, some suction. Gojou seems to like all of it, clutching at Yuuji’s hair and running a restless hand along her back, but the noises are the most telling. Soft breaths that grow sharp and ragged and sometimes louder, every single one seeping through Yuuji’s skin to fill her veins with fire.
She leaves more marks, burying her mouth on every side of the breast she’s attached herself to. It gives so sweetly against her fingers and under her mouth, and when she sucks on the sweat-slick skin where it joins the narrow valley in the middle, Gojou arches into it like she wants Yuuji’s teeth on her ribcage.
Yuuji tries to give her that, scraping the lower row of her teeth up that little valley, till they snag on the jut of Gojou’s collarbone.
She kisses it, asking, “Here, sensei?”
“What?” Gojou gasps. Then— “Yes.”
Yuuji sucks on the bone, risking a bit of teeth, and Gojou jolts under her as if struck, and Yuuji soothes that too, licking wetly at the spot she bit and then along the length of that clavicle until she’s got a mouthful of warm, strong shoulder. She drops a damp, open-mouthed kiss there, her gut clenching at the sound of wet suction, and then she does it again and again, mouthing a heated path all the way to the trembling curve of Gojou’s throat.
“Here too, sensei?” she murmurs.
Gojou pulls on her hair, a sharp yank that bolts down Yuuji’s spine. “Yuuji.”
Yuuji bites, helpless not to, and she puts the teeth away before Gojou can do more than gasp, instead sucking hard on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and Gojou jolts at that too, her torso writhing under Yuuji like it can wrench free, and maybe it can if she tries hard enough, but she doesn’t and it doesn’t, and Yuuji forces Gojou back flat with a hand on her chest, squeezing her heavy breast—distraction and warning and just plain greed.
She latches on to another part of Gojou’s throat, licking at skin pulled taut over a straining tendon, and she wants to bite but doesn’t, only worrying a warm little mark into it. Gojou will see these in the mirror tomorrow. She’ll remember Yuuji.
She sucks on the soft underside of Gojou’s jaw, and nails claw down her back, startlingly loud against her top but raw and hot on her bare skin. They dig into the base of her spine, tucked a little into where her waistband has pulled away from her body thanks to this position, and several parts of Yuuji remind her that every moment she spends with her mouth on this woman is also heating her all over.
It’s heady, electric.
Yuuji mouths more marks into Gojou’s throat, tasting sweat and skin and spit, and she ends back up on the swell of her chest, helpless not to push her whole face into the easy give of it, again, but she comes back up for air and puts her mouth to the unmarked breast, drawing the nipple roughly into her mouth.
Gojou’s chest heaves under her. She’s making noises now—tight, aching whines that’d be complaints if they didn’t hitch so sweetly in the back of her throat. Sometimes, there’s Yuuji’s name too, half the syllables swallowed.
Gojou will never be so sweet, so weak, in class. This is just for Yuuji to keep.
And she wants so much more.
It’s a struggle to tear her mouth off Gojou’s tits. She keeps finding herself sucking on it or nuzzling back into it, like a few minutes of intimate contact have made her addicted, and if Yuuji had to pick something to lose herself to, these would definitely be at the top of the list—but she wants all of this woman.
Yuuji straightens up in a forceful motion and backs off just as violently, not stopping till she’s off the bed and on her knees on the floor, right there between Gojou’s dangling legs.
Her name drifts down from further up the bed, a confused murmur. Yuuji hums an acknowledgment, but she can’t tear her eyes away from the shadowed space between Gojou’s legs. The hem of her dress has ridden up high, stretched taut across the thickest part of her thighs. It’s just barely covering her crotch, but Yuuji still can’t see—
She hoists Gojou’s legs over her shoulders, dragging her hips to the edge of the bed. The dress rolls up, exposing stained white.
“Yuuji!” The name is one hot lash, serrated enough to tear Yuuji’s eyes off her prize. Gojou’s shoved herself up on her elbows, and more of her hair is falling messily down her face and neck as she peers down at Yuuji. Her eyes are still so dark, except that only makes them bluer and brighter. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Yuuji blinks, a little confused. Isn’t it obvious?
“Eating you out?” she offers. “I mean, I’m going to. Don’t you like that?”
Gojou—
Gojou shudders, a full-bodied thing that trembles along where her thighs are digging into Yuuji’s shoulders. She opens her mouth and closes it without a word, but it looks like she’s biting the inside of her lip.
When she speaks, her voice is a hoarse tremor: “We shouldn’t do this.”
Yuuji frowns, breaking eye contact to look at Gojou’s crotch again and check she wasn’t just seeing things, and that really doesn’t help Yuuji think or speak or do anything except stew in a savage swell of hunger, but she swallows and bites the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to focus.
Gojou’s underwear is a pearly white thing with the same satiny sheen as her dress. It barely covers the outer lips of her pussy. If Yuuji had touched her under the dress, she’d have barely needed to nudge it to the side to find scorching flesh.
But it’s the telltale wet streak down the middle of the panties that’s killing Yuuji. It’s not the right kind of material to grow translucent when damp, but the shape of Gojou’s folds still shows with how the fabric is clinging to them.
So why is Gojou saying—
“But you want it, sensei,” Yuuji tells her, unable to look away from that barely clothed cunt, and it’s growing closer and closer—no, Yuuji’s leaning closer and closer, answering its siren call. “You’re all wet here too.”
Gojou makes a gutted noise. “Yuuji—”
Yuuji breathes in deep, her nose almost touching that wet spot, and her throat and her lungs grow heavy and hot with the sour–sweet scent of a woman who wants her very badly.
“It smells really good,” she breathes.
Gojou’s thighs strain toward each other on Yuuji’s shoulders, like she’s trying to close her legs, but she can’t, and she’s not trying all that hard anyway, yielding easily when Yuuji nudges at her thighs so they’re not trying to crush her skull. Gojou’s feet dig into her back instead, but that just feels like she’s keeping Yuuji in place.
Yuuji leans in those last few thrilling centimeters and licks greedily at the wet spot. The taste is mild like this, filtered through the fabric, but it still makes her mouth water.
She does it again, pressing the flat of her tongue to the middle of Gojou’s panties and dragging it up slowly, soaking up the taste.
There’s a low whine from above. “Yuuji—Yuuji, you can’t—”
Yuuji can. She wants to and Gojou does too.
But—
It’s a struggle to draw back enough to look up at Gojou and talk, but Yuuji makes herself do it, and every inhale fills her with the scent of Gojou’s sex, the base notes familiar but unique the way every woman is and maddening in a way no one will ever be again.
Sheer hunger turns Yuuji’s voice into smoke in her throat, but she still asks, “Do you really want me to stop, Gojou-sensei?”
Above her, Gojou freezes.
Yuuji looks, really looks. Gojou’s beautiful, she’s always beautiful, but right now, she’s so lewd too, with her heavy tits spilling down her chest and her flushed, bruised skin gleaming gold with sweat.
Her dress, yanked down her chest and rucked up to her hips, only covers her midriff now—like she’s Yuuji’s mirror.
It’s her face that Yuuji likes best. That hasn’t changed from the first time she set eyes on this woman, caught and trapped on pink lips parting around tearing teeth and blue slivers slipping past dark sunglasses, but her teacher hasn’t ever looked at her like this.
Wild eyes, red cheeks, trembling lips—this isn’t a woman who doesn’t want this. It can’t be.
“Yuuji,” Gojou rasps out.
Yuuji waits. Gojou says nothing else.
Slowly, Yuuji runs her hands up Gojou’s thighs, from the taut muscles draped over her shoulders to the soft inner sides leading to where she wants so badly to put her mouth. Soft, lush skin gives so sweetly under her fingers, and all of Gojou shivers when Yuuji squeezes her new handfuls. It’s not at all like squeezing Gojou’s tits, but the dirty satisfaction is just as hot, just as thrilling.
“Let me, sensei,” Yuuji says. It’s not a plea, but it could be. It’s not a demand, but it could be that too. “I’ll make you feel good.”
A hundred unreadable things flit across Gojou’s face.
Then she falls, collapsing back against the mattress. Her legs briefly become limp on Yuuji’s shoulders.
And Yuuji greedily shoves her face into that waiting cunt.