The lecture droned on, some professor’s voice buzzing like a fly trapped in a jar, but I wasn’t listening. My focus was locked on Kritika, two rows ahead, her back arched just enough that the curve of her ass teased through that tight black skirt. She kept glancing back, lips parted, like she could feel my eyes burning into her. Fuck, she knew exactly what she was doing.
I leaned forward, my thigh brushing hers as I slid my hand under the desk, fingers tracing the inside of her knee. She didn’t flinch—just bit her lower lip, her breath hitching when I inched higher. The classroom was packed, but no one noticed the way her legs trembled when my fingertips grazed the damp heat between them. "You’re soaked already," I murmured against her ear, my voice rough. "And we haven’t even started."
Her answer was a sharp inhale, her hand dropping to my crotch under the pretense of adjusting her bag. The second her fingers wrapped around my cock through my pants, I nearly groaned. She stroked me slow, deliberate, her thumb pressing just right over the head where the fabric was already damp with pre-cum. "You’re leaking," she whispered, her breath hot against my neck. "Pathetic. Can’t even last five minutes without making a mess."
Fuck. That mouth.
I grabbed her wrist, not to stop her, but to guide her—harder, faster, my hips lifting just enough to fuck into her grip. The professor’s voice faded into white noise, replaced by the wet sounds of her palm working me, the way her tits heaved with every ragged breath. Then her phone buzzed. A text. From me, sent five minutes ago: "Washroom. Now. Or I bend you over this desk and fuck you in front of everyone."
Her eyes darkened. She didn’t reply. Just stood, smoothed her skirt, and walked out like her pussy wasn’t dripping for me.
I gave it thirty seconds before following.
The washroom was empty, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, reflecting off the black tile like some cheap porn set. Kritika was already there, back against the sink, legs spread just enough that I could see the black lace of her panties clinging to her. She locked the door behind me, her fingers trembling—not from nerves, but from need.
"Took you long enough," she purred, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. She didn’t pull them down. Just tugged them aside, letting me see how fucking wet she was, her pussy glistening, swollen, the lips so tight they barely parted. "You gonna stand there staring, or are you gonna use that thing?"
I didn’t answer. Just grabbed her by the throat and kissed her, my tongue shoving past her lips like my cock was about to shove past something else. She moaned into my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders as I ripped her bra open, her tits spilling free—heavy, perfect, the nipples hard enough to cut glass. I squeezed, pinched, twisted until she whimpered, her back arching off the sink.
"Fuck, yes—" she gasped when I dropped to my knees, yanking her panties the rest of the way off. I didn’t even get a proper look before she was shoving them against my face, rubbing the damp fabric over my mouth. "Smell that? That’s all for *you*." Then she tossed them—right onto my cock, wrapping the lace around the shaft like a fucking present. The heat of her pussy had left them damp, and the second the fabric touched my skin, I hissed. Pre-cum leaked, soaking through the lace, turning it transparent.
Kritika laughed, low and dirty. "Look at you. Already making a mess in my panties like a good boy."
I growled, surging up to kiss her again, my hands rough on her tits, my cock throbbing against her stomach. She broke the kiss first, shoving me back. "Uh-uh. You wanted my mouth? Earn it." Then she grabbed a dark chocolate bar from her bag, snapped off a piece, and—fucking *hell*—smeared it right over her pussy.
The scent of cocoa mixed with her arousal was enough to make my head spin. I didn’t hesitate. I dove in, my tongue dragging through the chocolate, lapping at her clit, her lips, fucking *inside* her. She tasted like sin and sugar, her tight little cunt clenching around my tongue like it was trying to milk me already. Her fingers tangled in my hair, her thighs trembling as I ate her like a starving man.
"Fuck—" she choked out, her hips jerking against my face. "Just like that, don’t you dare stop—"
I didn’t. Not until her legs were shaking, not until she came with a muffled scream, her juices coating my chin. Only then did I stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my cock leaking like a fucking faucet.
She didn’t give me time to recover. Dropped to her knees, her hands wrapping around the base of my shaft, her tongue swirling over the head. "Mmm. Salty," she murmured, before taking me deep—no warning, no buildup, just her throat opening around me, her lips sealed tight at the base.
I let her suck me for all of thirty seconds before I couldn’t take it anymore. I hauled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the sink. The mirror showed me everything—her tits pressed against the cold porcelain, her ass small and round, her pussy glistening, so tight I could see the muscles fluttering in anticipation. What a day.