The empty classroom at Rovery College was bathed in the soft glow of afternoon sunlight, filtering through half-closed blinds, casting striped shadows across the desks. Priya stood before Abir, her slender frame trembling with a mix of nervousness and bold desire, her blue salwar kameez clinging to her delicate curves, her eyes wide with a hunger that echoed Joita's fire. Her plea hung in the air—"Please, Abir, let me feel it"—and Abir's response, a low, "If you want it that badly, then yes," ignited a spark that promised to consume them both. The door creaked shut behind them, sealing them in a world of reckless temptation.
Abir stepped closer, his gaze locked on Priya's, his hands finding her waist with a possessive grip. Her breath hitched as he pulled her against him, his lips capturing hers in a fierce, hungry kiss, his tongue plunging deep, tasting her shy surrender. She moaned softly, her hands fumbling with his kurta, fingers trembling as they grazed his chest. But Abir's desire burned hotter, a need to give her the intensity she craved, to make her scream as Joita had. He lifted her effortlessly, setting her on the edge of a desk, her legs parting instinctively as he stepped between them.
With a swift motion, he tugged her kameez up and over her head, the fabric catching briefly on her curves before falling to the floor, revealing her smooth skin and modest breasts, her nipples hardening under his gaze. He didn't wait, his hands rough as he yanked her salwar down, exposing her completely. Priya's gasp was sharp, but her eyes begged for more. Abir pushed her back, her spine arching over the desk's edge, and entered her in a standing missionary variant, one of her legs hooked over his arm, the other dangling precariously. His thrusts were brutal, deep, and relentless, each one slamming into her with a force that rocked the desk, her screams erupting immediately, raw and unfiltered, echoing off the classroom walls. "Abir!" she cried, her nails digging into his forearms, her body jolting with every powerful surge, her breasts bouncing under his mauling hands.
He varied the assault, driven to push her limits. Shifting her position, he spun her around, pressing her chest flat against the desk, her cheek smearing against the cool wood. In a prone bone style, he entered her from behind, his hands gripping her hips with bruising force, thrusting with a slow, punishing depth that made her scream louder, her voice cracking as pleasure and strain intertwined. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, one hand fisting her hair to pull her head back, forcing her to arch as he slammed deeper, each thrust a deliberate claim. Priya's cries turned to whimpers, her body trembling under the intensity, her hands clawing at the desk's edge, leaving scratches in the wood.
But Abir wasn't satisfied. He pulled her up, guiding her to the classroom's blackboard, her back pressed against the chalk-dusted surface. Lifting one of her legs high, he hooked it over his shoulder in a standing split variant, entering her with a fierce, upward thrust that made her scream again, the chalkboard rattling behind her. His hands roamed, one squeezing her breast with punishing force, the other spanking her thigh with sharp, stinging slaps that left red marks. His thrusts were rapid, almost violent, each one driving her up the board, chalk dust clinging to her sweat-slicked skin, her screams a crescendo of ecstasy and exhaustion. Priya's body shook, her climax hitting in waves, her voice hoarse as she gasped, "Abir… I can't…" her legs buckling under the relentless assault.
Yet Abir's hunger burned brighter, unsatisfied by her surrender. He lifted her again, pinning her back to the blackboard, both legs now wrapped around his waist, her body fully suspended as he thrust upward with savage intensity, determined to make her scream again and again. His hands gripped her ass, fingers digging in as he pounded into her, her cries rising to a fever pitch, each one louder, more desperate, her body convulsing with another climax, tears of overwhelmed pleasure streaking her face. Abir's own release followed, a guttural roar as he buried himself deep, their bodies trembling together, chalk dust falling like confetti around them.
Priya collapsed against him, exhausted, her body limp and marked—red handprints on her hips, thigh, and breast, her hair disheveled, her skin glistening with sweat. She looked up at him, a faint, satisfied smile breaking through her fatigue. "I felt it," she whispered, her voice raw but content. Abir grinned, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his own breath ragged. "Good."
They dressed in silence, the classroom heavy with the scent of chalk and desire, Priya's steps unsteady as she left, casting one last glance back, a promise of more lingering in her eyes.
---
The next day, Abir sat in his classroom at Rovery College, a book open before him, but his mind was a storm of memories—Joita's rain-soaked surrender, Ananya's bold touch, Meera's brutal submission, and now Priya's desperate screams. The weight of it all left him restless, his focus slipping. The door swung open, and Professor Meera entered, her presence commanding, her bra-type black blouse clinging to her full breasts, the fabric so tight it seemed ready to tear, her pink see-through saree draping over her curves, hinting at the silhouette beneath. Her dark hair was pinned loosely, a strand falling free, adding a provocative edge to her stern demeanor.
"Abir," she said, her voice serious, cutting through the classroom's hum. "My office, now."
Abir's stomach dropped, his mind racing. *Someone reported us. The principal knows.* The thought of the washroom, the office, the rooftop—it all crashed over him as he grabbed his bag and followed her, his heart pounding. They reached her office, the familiar book-lined space with its heavy wooden desk, the air thick with tension. Meera closed the door, locking it with a soft click, and sat in her chair, her movements deliberate. With a slow, almost theatrical gesture, she let her saree slip from her shoulder, the pink fabric pooling at her waist, revealing the black blouse that strained against her breasts, the seams threatening to give way under their weight.
She leaned back, her eyes locking onto his, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Abir, I'm tired from all the lectures," she said, her voice softer now, laced with a teasing undertone. "Massage my body. I want to relax."
Abir's fear melted into a rush of understanding, his pulse quickening as he recognized the game. He knew where this was going, the familiar spark of temptation igniting once more.