He smiled, then gazed down at my breasts and shook his head. "I don't want you wearing that bra with that shirt."

 

"Why not?" I looked down too. "I thought you'd like it. It's lace."

 

"I can see your nipples."

 

"Impossible, because the school crest covers this one so at very most you can only see one nipple."

 

"Fine, one nipple," he conceded. "It's all I could look at, all through class today. I kept staring at that plump pink circle through your fitted white shirt and thinking, 'God, I want to lick that thing. I want to strip that girl naked right now and suck it until she screams.'"

 

My pussy pounded when he talked like that. It was rare, for him. I asked, "Was my nipple hard? Is that why you were looking at it?"

 

"No, it wasn't hard. That's just it. You can see a hard nipple through most any shirt, but through that shirt and bra combination I can see the actual colour of your actual nipple. It's more than I can handle, Miss Desmond."