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Her uniform skirt rides up as she sits on my couch, her feet tucked beneath her, nervously awaiting my move. I trace the hem of her skirt, feeling her shiver at my touch. 'You're not like the other guys,' she says, her voice barely a whisper. I smirk, 'And you're not like the other girls.' I lean in, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss, my hands roaming her body, exploring every curve. She gasps when I slip my hand under her shirt, her breath hitching as I palm her breast, ready to show her just how different I am.