Michelle glanced away, sweeping her tongue across her arid lips under his watchful gaze. "I was a math tutor in college. Just an on-campus job to avoid going completely broke. Anyway, my senior year, I got assigned to a few freshmen who were struggling with calc—a case as old as time. Except this one freshman would NOT stop staring at my chest. He was fixated, gawking at my boobs every time I looked up. No exaggeration.

"Alright, okay! I see your face. You're thinking, Well, they are pretty effin' big, so I kinda get why the guy might've... NO! You need to understand. Outside of parties or meeting my boyfriend, you would've never caught me dead in anything but a blouse, cardigan, or sweater. Something modest. I know the power of my gifts and how to hide them. At tutoring gigs especially, it was drab professional—bland button-ups, dark grays, and regular-fit pants. Nothing inspired the male gaze. Imagine the opposite of this... Yeah.

"Anyway, despite my safeguards, this kid ogled my chest every time I glanced down at a worksheet. And his infatuation grew worse over time. It was an endless nightmare!                

"Now, to clarify, his behavior was never creepy, per se. I never felt in danger. Clearly, he was just a gaga-eyed teenager with zero self-awareness of how obvious he was being. But holy shit, was it aggravating! No other client in my four years had that problem. But him? I could've worn a ski parka without noticing a difference.

"The problem was that there was no way out. No good way. I didn't wanna release him and have to tell the department why. I mean, aside from the staring, he was a sweet, respectful, and very polite kid. And he needed the help. It just had to end! So, I finally revealed my plight to my boyfriend. He could be overprotective, but if anyone had advice for straightening out a mindless boy, it was an older brother of four. So–

"Wait! You don't know who my college boyfriend was, do you? No, I never told you. Well, ya know where I went to school. Ya know about the football program. Well, my boyfriend was the slot receiver. The starter. As in on national TV most weeks, kids wearing his jersey at the grocery store, everybody on campus knowing who he was... all that. And most students, even most professors, knew we were dating. But this freshman didn't!

"Anyway, when I finally came clean to my strong, protective, caring boyfriend, he literally laughed it off! Apparently, an eighteen-year-old being mesmerized by my boobs was peak comedy. Each time I tried to explain the real problem, he broke into tears again. In the end, his advice was to 'leave an extra button undone and hug the kid' at the next study session to finally 'kill the mystery' for him.

"Now, admittedly, looking back? Yeah, there were worse ideas. But ya get the point. My boyfriend was unhelpful. So, ultimately, I did nothing. And nothing changed. I wore my unflattering grays, my pupil remained glued to my barely visible bust, and that was that. Until midterm break arrived.

"I don't know what first sparked the vision. Maybe it was my boredom at my parents' house. But once it popped into my head, I couldn't stop picturing it and laughing. What if I wore a fun outfit to our next tutoring session? My God, the idea was just... mwah! Chef's kiss! The ultimate revenge! He'd be blatantly called out in public, realizing instantly that I had been aware of his staring the whole time. And he'd just have to sit there, humiliated and embarrassed, without me ever speaking a word. It was savage but so fair. After all, it was what he always wanted.  

"No argument swayed me against the idea. So, that first Wednesday back on campus, I went to the library to meet my pupil. I walked in, 7:30 sharp, in my favorite skinny jeans, nude pumps, and a bombshell red tank—soft cotton, tight fit, ribbed, with a deep scoop neck, with these cute little snap buttons down the front... two undone. Bombshell. He stood up to greet me, and BOOM! His head burst! I'm talking eyes bulging, ear tips on fire, throat wobbling. And his lap inflated right there in front of me, his boner just shooting up at me through his shorts. Instantly. Like a clown's balloon! I had never seen anything like it. No guy had ever come undone like that in my presence before. He just sat down, speechless. Mortified.

"But my reaction surprised me more. While he stood there, mind exploding, desperate to take me in, unable to grasp what he saw... I was invincible. I was the sexiest woman he had ever seen. The high was indescribable. He stared like a lost puppy the whole session, and it was perfectly okay. He really had no choice. He was mesmerized. So was I.

"That night was the end of my gray blouse and cardigan era. For one client, at least. I began wearing tanks, camis, dresses, jeans, skirts—anything cute that could pass as casual wear. It all got a rise out of him. Of course, I still had to tutor him the same. We'd meet, review his tests, do homework, and practice math during our hour together, never acknowledging anything unusual. We behaved and talked the same as always. I taught him well, and he had to improve, no matter how low-cut my cami was.

"The only difference was the dripping-hot tension that lasted the entire session. It was addicting. When he asked for a second session during the week of a big test, I agreed. Soon, it was three, then four a week. Eventually, our sessions were just him and me hunched over the little wooden desk in his freshman dorm, learning math and playing our unspoken game. He'd be showered, neatly groomed, and polite—never standing unless necessary. I'd be underdressed, perfectly professional, and mostly unpaid—not that he knew. But it was worth it to feel his leg shake beside mine under the desk.

"Alright, I see your baffled face right now! You're thinking, What the fuck's wrong with that kid? Why didn't he make a move or just say, 'Hey, you look pretty today!'? Again, you don't know my situation back then. I was in a sorority. I had 'status.' Leaving my hunky, star boyfriend for a freshman I tutored? Social suicide. And my pupil knew it. Once he uttered a word that made our silent game real, I'd have to end it. So, we tutored.

"Later in December, we studied for our finals together in his room. His calc course was over, and winter break was a few days away. We were prolonging our time. One afternoon, we were lounging on his bed—me reading a Spanish book while he wrote a paper. He wore these gray cotton gym shorts that showed his thighs. His boner rested casually under the gray. I had on my friend's sunflower sundress. I don't know why; it was freezing. But my tits barely fit in it.

"We sat there, sweating, our knees still touching from when we first sat down. He noticed my staring and looked up at me. I shrugged and said, 'We should probably fuck now.' To this day, I can still feel him cumming in my pussy while he thrashed beneath me."        

Michelle closed her eyes. "Every time I rode him, sat on his face, or put him in my mouth until I graduated, it was the best sex I had ever had. It still is."

She exhaled longingly into the night. "Anyway... I hope that answers your question. You can probably see why I gave the 'husband' answer before, not the 'full, honest' one. And as for your other question, no, I haven't secretly wanted a younger man all these years. I didn't know I preferred them. But I should've then."

The car was quiet, save for the heavy breathing in the driver's seat. Michelle crossed her ankles in the footwell, twisting her diamond ring while her plastic heels trembled under the probing gaze. "Well?" she turned.

The driver sat open and blank as red and yellow lights flashed across his face. "Sorry," he rubbed his eyes, "I just... Wow... That, uh... That was more than I expected."

"I know. That's why some things are best left said in person."

He snickered.

Michelle blushed, continuing, "That's what I want. To feel that inescapable pull with someone again. That mysterious, inevitable draw that just feels... right. That gravity. What shape and form that'll take, I don't know. Frankly, right now, I'm just thrilled I remembered how to date. I mean, I did awesome in there, right?!"

The driver profusely nodded, still laughing.

Warmly sinking into her seat, Michelle mused at the parked cars ahead. "Tonight felt... right." Humming engines and nearby voices echoed over the soft crunching of gravel in the dark. Sensing a braver gaze beside her, she dragged her finger around her ear, pulling her walnut waves from her cropped, lace-up camisole. She sat up straight, loudly unsticking her thighs from the leather seat. She laughed, concealing her embarrassment.

"Are you... ahem!" he cleared his throat. "And you're totally sure your husband's cool with you being out here with me and whatnot?"

"Mm-hmm. Totally certain. He wants me to be happy."

"Oh... Gotcha. So, he's not gung-ho about it, but he kinda deals with it?"

"Eh..." Michelle swayed. "That's how I had envisioned it going. But, uh, it turns out I married the kind of man who responds to my college story and heavy ultimatum by begging me to crash frat parties in my red, buttoned tank."

The driver gaped, his arm falling across his lap. "Seriously?!"

"As a holy nun."

"That's insane! If you were my wife, I'd want you just for me. I'd let you live in my dorm!"

"Wow... tempting backup offer."

The young man burned red and shrunk into his seat. "If it's worth anything... the black tank and leather skirt are a killer vibe. You totally rocked it!"

Michelle shrugged. "What can I say? I'm all about the vibes."

He laughed into the steering wheel before picking at the rubber. "So... Did you have to go home right after the concert or...?

She sat, eyebrow raised.

"Gotcha," he swallowed. "Well, I thought, there's this super nice Thai place near here that everyone raves about. There's also Vinnie's downtown. Apparently, it has god-tier steak. Uh, there's–"

"Honey..." Michelle said, "Do I look prepared for fine dining?"

"Oh... Right. Duh, heh! Well, uh, if you're in the mood for more dancing, I know a party on campus we can check out."

She swayed. "Tempting. But not tonight."

"Right. I figured, heh! Ooh! The lake! If you wanna stay outside, there's this path by campus, where you can see the stars over this lake, and it–"

Michelle grabbed his knee, stroking it with her thumb. He shook but remained tall, moving his hand to her bare thigh. A tingle shot through her butt cheeks, making them clench as a forgotten high returned. Squeezing his adorable chin, she pushed her lips into his and tasted him, his chest pounding against hers while his hand ventured up her leg.

Noting the fresh cola on his tongue, Michelle broke the embrace, throwing his eager hands from her hip and the far depths of her skirt. Turning forward, she neatened her skimpy outfit in the seat and recovered her breath.

The young man stared, starry-eyed and confused.

Shrugging, Michelle said, "I know times have changed since I was in school. But this would typically be when the guy drove me to his dorm to fuck my brains out."

His fingers trembled near the ignition.

"But I'm open to other suggestions."