"Can you stand?"
"Y-Yes…"
"Let me take off your jacket."
Cradling Sensei to steady her, I eased the jacket from her frame. Beneath it, a thin dress shirt clung to her body, damp with a whisper of sweat that traced every sleek contour.
"Your shirt—do you want your hands to take it off, or mine?"
"…C-Could you?"
Her eyes sparkled with a silent plea, craving the thrill of a student's touch.
"Gladly. Hold steady for me."
I stood before her, fingers gliding to the buttons. One undone—a soft kiss on her neck. Another—a tender brush of lips against her ear. Not just for show, she'd already melted under kisses and breaths before.
"Eep… ah…!"
Her body quivered with each touch, trembling at the slightest tease—utterly captivating.
Unhurried, I worked the buttons free, unveiling her chest. White silk lingerie gleamed beneath—laced, delicately embroidered, clearly a luxury. Not a structured bra, but softer, like a sports bra or a night piece, loose yet refined. Perhaps this world's norm for slimmer women? Regardless, it was exquisite—beauty knows no hierarchy in lingerie.
"W-What? Staring like that… it's embarrassing."
She shielded her chest with her arms. Like Natsuki-san, baring herself wasn't the issue—being seen by a man was what flustered her. Understandable; even guys, unless they're sculpted titans, shy away from prying eyes half-naked.
Yet, like Natsuki-san—who couldn't hide her curves—Sensei failed too, for the opposite reason: there was little to conceal. Beneath the silk, only delicate peaks stood proud.
What I mean is…
"Sensei, you're breathtaking. Lower your hands—let me see."
"R-Really? But… no, I…"
She hugged herself tighter, shaking her head. I leaned close, kissing her neck as I murmured.
"Hands behind your back, Sensei."
"Eep! O-Okay!"
She complied, clasping her hands at her waist, arching her chest forward.
"…God, you're stunning."
This was something else.
Sure, I'm shallow enough to judge by size, but a slight chest—or none at all—isn't a flaw. Every form has its allure; it's no empty sentiment. Small breasts carry a charm the fuller ones can't claim.
Take this sight: Sensei might see her body as a boast in this world, but to me, it's a mature woman's elegance—hips and curves fully womanly, yet paired with a youthful delicacy above. That duality, her boldness in revealing what my past life might've hidden—it's mesmerizing. This world's lens on beauty deserves applause.
In my old life, women who owned their smaller frames were rare but unforgettable. A tall, flat-chested beauty from a school job—always in sleeveless tops come summer.
She'd shrug it off as comfort, but she knew her power. Her tube top days? I couldn't look away—nothing overflowed, yet the urge to peek was hypnotic, a devilish pull. Back then, I was die-hard curves fanatic, but she rewrote my rules.
Focus.
I pinched a silk-clad peak. Sensei gasped, a sweet whimper spilling out.
"Eep!"
"…Sensei."
I'd stayed quiet, but it was time to intervene.
"What?"
"'Eep' and 'ooh' aren't sexy—drop them."
"I didn't say 'ooh,' did I?"
You might soon.
"Just… make it sultrier."
"You're so picky. I'll try."
Please do.
"Again."
"Bring it."
Hands on hips, she stood tall, chest thrust out. I had critiques—a lot—but time was ticking, and my restraint was fading fast.
"Skirt next, if I may?"
"W-What, like some brothel line?"
Fresh off a scolding, and she's back to flat quips.
…Hold on.
"Sensei."
"What?"
"Are you… dying of embarrassment right now?"
"…"
Nailed it. She'd been deflecting with banter to cope.
"What do you expect! A gorgeous high school boy in his underwear saying 'skirt, if I may'? I want to ravish you myself!"
"Brutally honest, huh?"
"Ugh…"
"Wait—I've got something."
A spark of inspiration flared.
"W-What? This feels ominous."
"Seeing makes it worse for you."
Scanning the room, I found it.
"Can I borrow this?"
"A hairband?"
I grabbed the black band draped by the bed.
"What's that for?"
"This."
I slid it over her head.
"What? You like my hair up?"
"Not quite," I said, easing it down over her eyes.
"H-Hey! I can't see!"
"No shame if you can't see, right?"
"N-No, it's more—"
"Leave it."
As she reached to remove it, I pressed my hand over hers.
"You love it, don't you? A man commanding you… our masochistic Sensei?"
"Ugh… haa…"
She trembled, surrendering to the shiver.
"Keep it on. Understood?"
"Y-Yes…"
"Skirt, then—if I may?"
"Hiaaah!"
Her sight stolen, every sound sharpened—my voice a thread pulling her deeper. I leaned in, lips grazing her ear, letting my breath linger as I traced a finger along her waist, teasing the fabric lower.