The old college building was a ghost town at night, its corridors silent except for the faint hum of a distant generator. The classroom on the third floor, with its chipped blackboard and rows of wooden desks, felt like a relic of our past. Meera and I had sneaked in after hours, a reckless idea born over too many drinks at her place. We’d been together for a year, our chemistry a wildfire that burned hotter with every risk we took. Tonight, she’d teased me with a fantasy—revisiting the classroom where we’d first met, back when we were just friends stealing glances. Now, it was ours to claim.
Meera stood by the teacher’s desk, her figure silhouetted against the moonlight streaming through the windows. Her tight blouse hugged her curves, the top buttons undone to reveal a hint of cleavage, her skirt short enough to make my pulse race. Her dark hair was loose, framing her face, and her eyes—fuck, those eyes—held a wicked glint as she leaned back, one hip cocked. “So,” she purred, voice dripping with mischief, “you gonna stand there all night, Aryan, or show me why you dragged me here?”
I grinned, closing the door behind me, the click loud in the quiet room. “Dragged you? You’re the one who dared me, jaan.” I crossed the room, my steps deliberate, feeling the heat build with every inch between us. She didn’t move, just watched me, her lips parting slightly, and that was enough to set me off. I reached her, my hands finding her waist, pulling her against me. Our kiss was instant fire—lips crashing, tongues tangling, a hungry chudai of mouths that left us both gasping. She tasted like wine and sin, and I groaned, my land already straining against my jeans.
Her fingers were quick, yanking at my shirt, nails scraping my chest as she tore it open. “Fuck, Aryan,” she breathed, her hands roaming, tracing the hard lines of my abs, dipping lower to palm my dick through the denim. I hissed, gripping her hips tighter, feeling the heat of her choot pressing against my thigh through her skirt. “You’re trouble,” I growled, my mouth finding her neck, teeth grazing that spot that made her moan—loud, unashamed, echoing in the empty room.
“Trouble you want,” she shot back, her voice sultry as she pushed me back, hopping onto the teacher’s desk. Her skirt rode up, revealing smooth thighs and a glimpse of black lace panties, her gaand perched perfectly on the edge. I stepped between her legs, hands sliding up her thighs, pushing the skirt higher. “What do you want, Meera?” I asked, voice rough, my fingers teasing the edge of her panties, feeling the damp heat of her choot.
“You,” she said, eyes locked on mine, bold and sure. “Jamkar. Right here.” Her words were a spark, and I didn’t waste time. I kissed her again, harder, deeper, while my hands worked her blouse open, buttons scattering. Her breasts spilled free, full and perfect, nipples hard under my thumbs as I teased them, making her arch, her moans filling the room. “Fuck, yes,” she panted, her hands fumbling with my belt, freeing my land, hot and throbbing in her grip. She stroked me, slow, deliberate, her thumb circling the tip until I was cursing, my control slipping.
I yanked her panties down, tossing them aside, her choot glistening in the moonlight, begging for attention. I dropped to my knees, kissing her there, my tongue flicking slow, then faster, savoring her taste as she gasped, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Aryan, fuck,” she moaned, hips bucking, and I kept going, licking, sucking, until she was trembling, her cries sharp and desperate. But tonight wasn’t just about that—she’d whispered about wanting more, about pushing limits, and I saw it in her eyes now, a hunger that matched mine.
I stood, kissing my way up her body, lingering on her gaand as I turned her, bending her over the desk. “This what you want?” I murmured, my hand stroking her there, firm but gentle, testing. She nodded, biting her lip. “Do it,” she whispered, voice thick with need. I grabbed the lube from my pocket—we’d planned this, talked it through—and slicked my fingers, easing her into it, slow, careful, watching her every reaction. Her moans grew louder, her body opening to me, and fuck, it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
When I finally pressed my land against her gaand, I went slow, every inch a question she answered with a gasp, a moan, her hands gripping the desk. “Chod na,” she urged, voice raw, and I did, thrusting steady, deep, the heat of her driving me wild. She pushed back, meeting every move, her choot dripping as she touched herself, her cries bouncing off the classroom walls. “Harder,” she begged, and I gave it to her, the desk creaking, our bodies slick with sweat, the rhythm frantic, primal.
She came first, her whole body shaking, her gaand clenching around me as she screamed my name. It pushed me over, my land pulsing, spilling into her as I groaned, collapsing against her, both of us wrecked. We slid to the floor, tangled, catching our breath, her head on my chest as I kissed her hair.
“Worth sneaking in for,” she murmured, a smile in her voice, and I laughed, knowing we’d never look at this classroom the same way again.