Desk Dances, Classroom Romance

**Front of the Class** The scratch of chalk on the board was the only sound in the lecture hall, but Jamie wasn’t paying attention to the equations. Her short skirt had ridden up when she leaned over the professor’s desk to ask a question, and now she could feel every pair of eyes locked onto her ass. She didn’t adjust it. Instead, she let her weight shift slightly, her thighs pressing together as she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear—slow, deliberate. The thin fabric clung to her skin, the outline of her thong barely hidden as she bent forward again, just enough to tease. Behind her, someone cleared their throat. A chair creaked under restless shifting. The professor kept explaining derivatives, oblivious, but the room had gotten warmer. Jamie bit her lip, dragging her palm along the curve of her hip as she straightened. She could practically taste the hunger in the air—knew exactly how hard the guy in the back row was gripping his pen. "Any questions?" she murmured, turning just enough to meet his stare. Not waiting for an answer.

The skirt clung to the tight swell of Jamie’s ass—smooth and round, the pale pink skin flushed where her thong’s lace waistband pressed into plush flesh. Every shift of her hips teased the faintest shadow of a stain at the very top of her crease, smudged just enough to be noticeable under the sheer fabric. The heat of the room had left her bare skin slightly damp, the slick sheen catching the light as she arched, letting the hem ride higher. A sharp inhale from the front row told her they’d seen it—the shadowed dip between her cheeks, the hint of puckered pink where her hole peeked beneath the fabric. She rocked back slightly, grinding her weight into the professor’s desk just to watch their eyes darken. The thong cut deep, framing the full, flawless curve of her ass—shaved smooth, untouched by even the faintest stubble, the kind of skin that begged to be marked. Behind her, someone’s pen hit the floor. The professor kept talking. Jamie smirked.

Jamie felt the hot press of a body behind her before she registered the hands gripping her hips—the boy from the back row, his cock already nudging between her cheeks. His breath hitched as he pushed forward, the head of his shaft catching on her tight rim. She gasped, arching into him, her fingers splaying across the desk for balance. The professor kept talking, oblivious, but the wet slide of skin on skin filled Jamie’s ears. The boy groaned, hips jerking as he worked himself deeper, her body stretching around him inch by inch. A shudder ran through her as he bottomed out, his grip tightening. The skirt still clung to her waist, tangled between them, but the heat of his cock buried in her was undeniable. His thrusts started slow, testing, then grew rougher—each one dragging a choked sound from her throat. The desk rocked under her palms with every snap of his hips. Someone in the front row swore under their breath. Jamie’s nails dug into the wood.

His cock was smooth and flushed pink, the skin taut over every thick inch as it slid in and out of her. No hair at the base, just bare, fever-hot flesh where he pressed against her—his shaft glistening with the slick he drew from her with each thrust. The head swelled wider than the rest, blunt and heavy, forcing her open with a relentless drag that left her trembling. Every ridge of him caught at her tight rim before pushing through, stretching her further. Veins stood stark along its length, pulsing as he bottomed out inside her, and she could feel them throb against her walls. His grip on her hips kept her pinned, the rhythm of his thrusts sharpening—shallow first, then deep, his balls slapping against her with every snap forward. No tease, no hesitation. Just the raw, slick sound of flesh meeting flesh, his cock driving into her hard enough to make the desk shudder. Jamie bit her lip to stifle a moan as he angled deeper, the thick crown brushing a spot that sent heat licking up her spine. His breath came ragged against her neck, his entire body tensing behind her as he fucked her with rough, hungry strokes—no pause, no mercy. Just that smooth, relentless cock filling her over and over.

Describe the cum, unbelievable amounts of it, flowing out of her asshole. So much it could fill a jug

His cock twitched violently as he buried himself deep, a ragged groan tearing from his throat. The first thick pulse sent a hot rush flooding into her, filling her in heavy, relentless waves. She could feel it—every spurt, every shudder of his hips driving it deeper. It spilled past the seal of his cock, creamy white streaks dripping down her thighs, pooling on the desk beneath them. He didn’t pull out. Just kept grinding, milking himself inside her as rope after rope painted her walls, his breath coming in sharp bursts. The sheer volume was obscene—her asshole struggled to contain it, overflowing as his cum leaked out in thick rivulets, slicking the back of her thighs. Beneath him, his own ass was on full display—pink, bare, spread wide as the force of his orgasm clenched his muscles. The pressure proved too much. A low, wet sound escaped him as his hole fluttered, spasming open to release a thick, heavy load of his own—pushing out in hot waves that smeared between his cheeks, dripping down his exposed skin. The boy slumped against her, trembling, his cock still pulsing weakly. Jamie’s legs shook, the mess between them undeniable—warm, sticky, dripping onto the floor. Someone coughed. The professor droned on.