Media Impact Customs - Close To My Tutor - Miss vivian - Cleavage - POV - Teacher - Shrinking - HD Version

Media Impact Customs - Close To My Tutor - Miss vivian - Cleavage - POV - Teacher - Shrinking - HD Version

As my private tutor, Miss Vivian approached my desk, her silk blouse rustled in the air, filling it with the sweet fragrance of her perfume. She leaned over to examine my paper, her cleavage just inches away from my face. I found myself transfixed by the subtle shadows cast by her curves and the delicate lace of her blouse. It was as if time stood still as she mused aloud about the confusing nature of the question, her eyes locked onto mine. Suddenly, she straightened up, her expression shifting to one of sternness. She cleared her throat, a sharp, abrupt sound that cut through the quiet room. Her hand, with its manicured nails, rested on her hip as she looked down at me, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. She snapped her fingers and the world around me blinked out of existence. When I opened my eyes again, I was on the plush couch cushions. Miss Vivian's blouse was rumpled, the top buttons undone to reveal more of her ample cleavage. Her voice, smooth as honey, explained that she had seen my wandering eyes, that she couldn't have me tarnishing her stellar reputation. She had a plan, she said, her breath hot on my ear. She would inundate me with what I craved, bringing me so close to her perfection that I'd learn to focus beyond it. She plucked me from the couch, her fingers gentle yet firm around my tiny form. Her voice was commanding as she instructed me to admire her, to take in every detail of her flawless skin, like fresh cream, and her arousing scent. She then deposited me into her cleavage, a valley of smooth, warm skin. She ordered me to stay there, to worship her body. Miss Vivian moved to the floor, her body poised above me on her hands and knees. She teased me, her breasts swaying just out of reach. With a mischievous grin, she lowered herself onto her forearms, her breasts looming above me like twin moons. She feigned fatigue, her body trembling slightly as her breasts descended, inch by agonizing inch, until they enveloped me completely. Her voice was laced with amusement as she asked if her breasts were too much for me, if I could even breathe beneath their weight. She pushed up, her body rising above me once more. Her breasts hovered, a promise, a threat, before she descended again, laughing as she smothered me. She flexed her arms, her biceps curling around me, crushing me against her firm, smooth skin. Her skin was hot, her breasts even softer than I could have imagined. She explored my body with her fingers, guiding me along her collarbone, her throat, before plunging me back into her cleavage. Finally, she cradled me in her hands, bringing me up to her face. Her eyes, a vivid green, sparkled with amusement and something darker, more intense. She talked of future lessons, of plans she had for me. But my eyes drifted downwards, drawn to the curves of her breasts like a moth to a flame. She sighed, a sound of mock exasperation, and declared me a hopeless case. If I wouldn't be a good student, she said, her voice a low purr, then I'd be her cleavage slave. And with that, she plunged me back into her cleavage, her laughter ringing in my ears as the world went dark once more.