The afternoon sun streamed through the dusty windows of the empty classroom at Rovery College, casting a warm, golden hue across the rows of desks and chairs. Abir sat alone, his mind adrift in the turbulent memories of yesterday's encounter with Monika in the storehouse. The image of her curvy, sweat-slicked body pinning him down, her evil smile as she whispered her blackmail, and the commanding way she took him replayed incessantly, a mix of thrill and dread tightening his chest. The fear that she might break their deal and report him to the principal gnawed at him, leaving him restless, his fingers tapping nervously on the desk.
The soft creak of the door interrupted his thoughts, and Joita stepped inside, her black kurta swaying with her confident, predatory stride. Her voluptuous figure moved with an alluring grace, her dark eyes locking onto his as a smirk curled her lips. She sauntered over, hips swaying, and leaned close, her voice dripping with teasing amusement. "So, you even fucked that strict one, huh?" she said, her tone a blend of pride and challenge.
Abir sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm still in tension, Joita. What if Monika breaks the deal and reports me to the principal? She's got all the power here."
Joita chuckled, her smirk softening into a knowing smile as she slid onto his lap, facing him, her thighs straddling his hips with a possessive intimacy. "Relax, Abir," she purred, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Once someone gets a taste of your weapon, they always come back for more. Monika's no different—she's hooked now, trust me." Her fingers trailed down his chest, deftly unzipping his pants, pulling out his manhood with a gentle yet firm grip that sent a shiver through him. She leaned in close, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered in a seductive, velvet voice, "But always remember this, Abir: no matter who you fuck, this dick of yours totally belongs to me. I can share it, but I'll never give it away." Her words, combined with the warmth of her touch, ignited a surge of arousal, his manhood hardening under her skilled fingers.
Joita's smile widened, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "Good boy," she murmured, her voice a sensual caress. With a slow, deliberate motion, she lifted her kurta and slid her pants down, revealing the smooth, flushed skin of her hips and the damp heat between her thighs. She guided his throbbing length inside her, the tight, warm embrace enveloping him as she sank down, a soft, throaty moan escaping her lips. She began to ride him hard, her hips rolling with a passionate rhythm, each deep thrust drawing a louder, more sensual moan from her core. Her big breasts pressed against his chest, the fabric of her kurta brushing his skin as she moved, her hands gripping his shoulders for leverage, nails digging in with a gentle sting. The classroom filled with the intoxicating sounds of their intimacy—her moans, rich and melodic, rising with each plunge, her body arching as she took him deeper, the passion between them igniting the air. She leaned forward, her lips finding his in a slow, sensual kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth with tender ferocity, tasting the salt of his tension and the sweetness of their connection. Her hips rocked with a graceful intensity, each movement a dance of desire, her inner walls clenching around him, drawing him into a rhythm that felt both possessive and liberating. Her moans grew louder—"Oh, Abir… yes!"—as she rode him with abandon, her curvy body trembling with each deep thrust, her breath hot against his neck, her sweat mingling with his.
Suddenly, Joita's eyes flicked toward the door, a mischievous glint sparking within them. Without breaking her rhythm, she increased the speed, her hips slamming down with renewed vigor, her moans escalating into a symphony of pleasure. Abir followed her gaze, his heart skipping a beat as shock coursed through him. Standing on the doorstep was Rishita, a first-year student with wide, stunned eyes, her petite frame frozen in place. Abir had seen her hanging with Joita a few times—her long, dark hair and shy demeanor a stark contrast to Joita's boldness—making her presence all the more jarring.
"Joita, stop!" Abir hissed, his voice laced with panic, his hands hovering as if to push her off.
Joita didn't falter; instead, she held his left cheek with a firm, possessive grip, her lustful voice cutting through his protest. "Keep fucking me, Abir," she commanded, her eyes burning with desire as she maintained her relentless pace.
"But…" Abir stammered, his mind reeling from Rishita's gaze.
Joita's tone turned commanding, brooking no argument. "When I told you to fuck me, you fuck me hard. Got it?" The authority in her voice, combined with the heat of her body and the thrill of being watched, sent a fresh wave of arousal through Abir. His resistance melted, his hands gripping her hips as he began to thrust upward, fucking her soul out with a passion that matched her own. Rishita stood transfixed, holding her breath, her wide eyes taking in every detail of their intense, forbidden dance.