The late afternoon sun dipped low over the college campus, casting a warm golden glow as Professor Meera strode purposefully toward her office, her pink saree swaying with each step, the translucent fabric hinting at the violet bra beneath. Abir followed close behind, his pulse quickening with anticipation, the memory of their garden encounter with Kavya still fueling his desire. Meera pushed open the door to her office—a compact yet orderly space dominated by a large wooden desk cluttered with papers, bookshelves lining the walls, and a single window letting in the fading light. The air carried the subtle scent of her vanilla-spice perfume, intensifying the charged atmosphere. Abir stepped in after her and swiftly closed the door, the soft click sealing them in a cocoon of privacy. Before Meera could turn fully, Abir moved with predatory intent, grabbing her from behind, his muscular chest pressing firmly against her back.
His left hand wrapped around her throat with a firm grip, his fingers exerting just enough pressure to make her breath catch, while his right hand splayed possessively across her belly, feeling the warmth of her skin through the delicate fabric. Meera's body tensed, but she didn't resist, her breath hitching as Abir leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a low, menacing whisper. "You really like your little game, don't you?"
Meera's response came in a sultry murmur, her voice trembling with arousal. "What can I do? Seeing how you were fucking Kavya like a beast made me wet."
Abir's grip tightened slightly on her throat, a dark chuckle escaping him as his right hand slid lower, slipping beneath the folds of her saree. His fingers pushed past the flimsy barrier of her panties, finding her drenched folds with ease. "Let's see how wet you are," he growled, plunging his index and middle fingers into her, confirming her confession with a rough thrust. "This bitch is really wet," he rasped, his voice thick with lust as he began fingering her with deliberate, forceful strokes, curling his fingers to rub against her inner walls with teasing pressure.
Meera moaned softly, her head falling back against his shoulder, her body arching into his touch. "Ahh… Abir," she gasped, her voice a blend of plea and pleasure. Abir's fingers picked up speed, thrusting in and out with rapid, punishing motions, his palm grinding against her clit with each plunge, the wet sounds of her arousal echoing in the quiet office. Her moans grew louder, her hips bucking against his hand, her eyes fluttering as the intensity built, her inner muscles clenching around his fingers. He held her still with his grip on her throat, increasing the pace even further, his fingers slamming in with brutal speed, hitting her sensitive spot repeatedly. "Ohh, Abir… yes!" she cried, her voice breaking as her climax crashed over her like a tidal wave, her juices flooding his hand, her thighs quaking uncontrollably, her eyes rolling back in her head as she gasped for air.
But Abir offered no respite. His rage, stoked by her taunting game, surged within him, his hands rough as he spun her around, slamming her against the desk. Papers flew to the floor in a chaotic flurry as he ripped her saree apart, the pink fabric tearing under his furious grip, exposing her full, heaving breasts and the smooth curve of her hips. He entered her with a brutal thrust, his manhood plunging deep into her core, her scream—"Ahh, Abir!"—shattering the silence as her body jolted forward, her breasts bouncing wildly with the impact. Abir lifted her onto the desk's edge, her legs spread wide, thrusting with deep, rage-filled slams, each one a violent invasion that made her breasts jiggle uncontrollably, her moans escalating—"Ohh, yes, harder!"—her eyes rolling back as her first breaking point hit, tears streaming down her face from the overwhelming pleasure and pain, her inner walls clenching around him in desperate ecstasy.
He dragged her off the desk, pinning her against the wall with a forceful shove, one hand gripping her throat tightly, the other yanking her hair to tilt her head back. He thrust with savage depth, each rapid stroke a punishing claim, her screams—"Ahhh, Abir, don't stop!"—reverberating off the walls, her breasts bouncing with each slam, her second breaking point a trembling wail, her body shaking violently, her juices dripping down her thighs as she clawed at his arms.
Abir forced her to the floor, rolling her onto her stomach, his hand pulling her hair to arch her back as he entered her from behind with grinding, brutal force. His thrusts were relentless, each deep plunge a violent collision that made her scream—"Ohh, Abir, it's too much!"—her eyes rolling back as her third breaking point hit, her breasts pressed into the carpet, marked with red from his earlier roughness, her body quaking beneath him.
He hauled her to the chair, bending her over the backrest, thrusting upward with ferocious speed, his hand tangled in her hair, pulling hard to expose her neck for biting. Her moans turned to screams—"Ahhh, yes!"—her fourth breaking point a shuddering cry, her breasts bouncing wildly, her eyes lost in ecstasy as he raged on, his thrusts a punishing rhythm that stretched her limits.
Lifting her against the bookshelf, he held her suspended with one arm, thrusting with grinding, rotational force, his hand pulling her hair to keep her head back, her screams piercing the air—"Ohh, Abir, deeper!"—her fifth breaking point a hoarse wail. Her body went limp, her breasts heaving as she gasped, "Abir… please… stop…" Her voice was raw, her eyes pleading, but Abir's rage deafened him, his thrusts continuing with unrelenting fury.
He threw her onto the table, binding her wrists with her torn saree, thrusting downward with savage depth, his hand yanking her hair to arch her back, her screams escalating—"Ahhh, no more!"—her sixth breaking point a desperate sob, her breasts bouncing with each brutal slam, her eyes rolling back as tears mixed with sweat.
Pulling her up, he bent her forward, thrusting from behind with punishing force, his hand gripping her hair tightly, pulling her head back as her screams filled the room—"Ohh, Abir, stop!"—her seventh breaking point a piercing cry, her body trembling, her breasts jiggling with each rage-filled thrust.
On the floor, he pinned her down, choking her lightly with one hand, thrusting with hardcore intensity, his other hand pulling her hair, her eighth breaking point a guttural scream—"Abir, I can't!"—her eyes rolling back, her body limp as she begged hoarsely, "Please… stop…" Her pleas went unheeded until Abir finally released, his own climax a roaring groan as he pulled out, his body spent, her form collapsed beneath him.
The next day was Sunday, and a heavy rain poured relentlessly outside, the sound of droplets drumming against Abir's window a steady rhythm as he sat in his room. The dim light of a desk lamp illuminated his textbooks, but his mind was far from studying, drifting to the wild encounters of the past days—Kavya in the garden, Meera in her office. It would be awesome if this day could be more enjoyable, he thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. But every day can't always be full of fun things. The rain seemed to mirror his restless mood, a mix of exhaustion and unquenched desire lingering within him.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with Joita's name. Abir's heart skipped a beat as he answered the call, her voice cutting through the sound of the rain. "Abir, can you quickly come to the pond behind our school? I need your help."