Academy's Pervert in the D Class-Chapter 97: After the job

Kiara a touch too stiff, her cheeks still faintly flushed.

Lor too wide-eyed, his hands gripping his knees a little too tightly.

But Mira said nothing.

She walked in, crouched gracefully, and set the tray down between them—two delicate plates.

One with slices of fluffy cake, the other stacked with golden cookies, the scent of sugar and vanilla flooding the room, mingling with the fading musk of their earlier acts.

She moved to the window next, pushing it open wider with a practiced flick, letting a rush of cool evening air sweep in, dispersing the sticky heat still clinging to the room, the wind chimes outside tinkling softly.

Kiara didn’t move, her icy blue eyes fixed on the tray, her thighs pressed together under her skirt, her pussy still pulsing faintly, betraying her calm facade.

Lor’s cock gave one final twitch, hidden beneath his pants, the memory of her taste, her moans, her slick heat still burning in his mind.

The warm air from the open window did little to cool the tension in the room, the soft scent of cinnamon and butter wafting up from the cookies and cake on the tray, their sugary promise clashing with the musky undertone still lingering from Lor and Kiara’s earlier indulgence.

Neither dared reach for the snacks, their bodies tense, as if the tray itself were a silent judge.

Mira, instead of leaving like they silently prayed she would, smoothed her skirt and sat cross-legged on the wooden floor beside them, her plump figure settling with a casual grace, humming softly as if joining a cozy study circle.

"So," she began cheerfully, folding her hands in her lap, her long black hair catching the golden light like a halo, "where are your notebooks? Or the writing tablets? I assume you’re practicing math, right?"

Lor froze, his hazel eyes widening, a bead of sweat forming at his temple.

Kiara’s spine straightened, her icy blue eyes flashing with panic as they locked with his—a shared moment of dread.

Books. Shit.

They’d opened nothing. No quill pen. No slate.

"Ah," Lor blurted, grasping at the first thought like a drowning man, his voice a touch too high.

"She was teaching me using... uh... fingers."

The second the word left his mouth, he realized.

Kiara realized.

Their heads turned to each other in mutual horror, her thighs clenching subtly under her skirt, his cheeks flaring hot as the memory of his fingers in her pussy and hers around his cock, flashed between them.

Fingers? That word was going to haunt them both.

Kiara coughed once, recovering faster, her voice smooth as she caught the thread.

"Yes, Miss Vayne," she said, leaning forward slightly, her blouse shifting to tease the curve of her full breasts. "Lor’s... foundational Mathematics is awful. Like, hopeless. So I’m using... finger techniques. Counting. Touch cues. Something basic enough to stick."

"Ahh," Mira said, nodding thoughtfully, nibbling the edge of a cookie, her kind eyes glinting with curiosity. "Sounds hands-on. Looks fun."

Fun?

Mira turned toward Kiara and gestured encouragingly, her smile warm but sharp, like she was enjoying this more than she let on. "Go on, keep teaching him. Don’t let me stop the learning."

Lor cleared his throat, his cock twitching faintly at the memory of Kiara’s lips, his voice strained. "It’s just a little awkward with you here, Mom. I can’t focus like this."

Mira pouted, mock-wounded, her plump figure shifting as she leaned back on her hands, her dress hugging her curves.

"Oh, I’ll be quiet. I’m here to learn too. What if Kiara teaches something I could use? You are never too old to learn something new."

Lor gave her a tired look, but Kiara had already taken the lead, her fingers poised with forced confidence, her cheeks still faintly flushed from their earlier acts.

"Alright," she said smoothly, scooting closer to Lor, her skirt riding up just enough to tease black lace against her plush thighs. "We’re doing basic addition. Hold out your hands."

Lor did, palms open between them.

"Okay," Kiara said, lifting Lor’s left hand, her touch light but electric, sending a phantom echo of their earlier intimacy racing up his arm.

"You have five fingers here. We’re adding three."

She used her own fingers to tap: one, two, three—gently pressing each fingertip to his knuckles, her nails grazing his skin.

It was innocent enough.

Almost.

Each touch carried the weight of her earlier moans, her pussy on his tongue, his cock deep in her mouth.

"So, five fingers," she continued, tapping his hand, her voice steady despite the heat in her eyes, "plus three more," she said, lifting his other hand and tapping three fingers, "makes...?"

"Eight," Mira said brightly before Lor could speak, her hand already raised with eight fingers up, her smile smug.

Kiara blinked, mid-sentence, her rhythm broken.

Lor sighed, his shoulders slumping, fighting the urge to laugh or groan.

"...Correct," Kiara muttered, her icy blue eyes narrowing slightly, her composure fraying at the edges.

Mira smiled like a cat who’d just claimed the sunny windowsill, nibbling another cookie. "Sorry. Couldn’t help myself."

"Right," Kiara said, clearing her throat, her thighs pressing together as she regained control. "Now subtraction. Ten minus four."

She reached out again, raising all ten of Lor’s fingers in front of him, her touch lingering a moment too long, sending a shiver through him.

Then she started folding them down gently, one by one, her fingers brushing his with a teasing warmth.

"One... two..."

She glanced at Lor, catching him watching her fingers, his mouth slightly open, his breath quickening.

Kiara looked away, her cheeks warming, her pussy pulsing faintly at the memory of his touch.

"Three... four."

She stepped back, her voice steady but strained. "How many fingers are left up?"

"Six," Lor mumbled, his voice low, his cock stirring again at the sight of her flushed face.

Mira raised her own hand, already holding up six fingers, smirking like she was waiting for the quiz all along, her dress clinging to her curves as she leaned forward.