I’m Riya, a 19-year-old student at a private college in Pune, where the days are long and the nights are restless. Our math teacher, Mrs. Anjali Sharma, is the kind of woman who turns heads without trying—34, with a curvaceous figure, long black hair tied in a loose bun, and a stern yet sultry voice that commands attention. Her sarees always hug her body just right, accentuating her full breasts and rounded hips, and I’d be lying if I said my friends Arjun, Sameer, and I hadn’t fantasized about her. Last Friday, those fantasies became reality when the three of us fucked her in the classroom, a wild, sweaty mess we’ll never forget.
It started after the final bell. Most students had rushed out, but Mrs. Sharma asked Arjun, Sameer, and me to stay back to discuss our failing grades. The classroom was empty, the windows fogged from the humid afternoon air. She stood at her desk, her red saree clinging to her sweat-damp skin, the blouse low enough to tease a glimpse of cleavage. “You three need to focus,” she said, her tone sharp, but her eyes flicked over us—Arjun’s broad shoulders, Sameer’s lean frame, my own figure in a tight kurti. We exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between us. We weren’t leaving without more than a lecture.
Arjun, always the bold one, stepped forward. “Ma’am, maybe we need a different kind of lesson,” he said, his voice low, a smirk playing on his lips. Mrs. Sharma raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond, Sameer moved behind her, close enough to brush her arm. “Yeah, something hands-on,” he added, his fingers grazing her waist. I saw her stiffen, her breath catching, but she didn’t pull away. I took my chance, stepping up to her side, my hand resting on her hip. “We’ve been watching you, Ma’am,” I whispered, my lips close to her ear. “We know you want this too.”
For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes darting between us—three young, eager bodies closing in. Then something shifted. “You’re all trouble,” she muttered, but her voice was husky, her resistance crumbling. Arjun didn’t wait—he grabbed her saree pallu, tugging it off her shoulder, exposing her blouse and the swell of her breasts. She gasped, but didn’t stop him. Sameer’s hands were quicker, unhooking her blouse from behind, letting it fall to reveal a black bra barely containing her. I reached out, tracing the edge of the bra, my fingers trembling with excitement. “Fuck, Ma’am, you’re gorgeous,” I breathed, and that was it—the dam broke.
Arjun pulled her bra down, freeing her breasts—full, heavy, with dark nipples that hardened instantly in the open air. He groaned, cupping them, squeezing hard as he leaned in to suck one into his mouth. Mrs. Sharma moaned, loud and unrestrained, her head tipping back as Sameer pressed himself against her from behind, his hands sliding under her saree to grip her ass. I watched, my own body heating up, then joined in, kissing her neck, my tongue flicking over her skin as she shivered between us. “You’re ours now,” Sameer growled, yanking her saree up, bunching it around her waist.
Her panties were soaked when he ripped them off, tossing them aside. Arjun stepped back, unzipping his jeans, his cock springing free—thick and ready. “On your knees, Ma’am,” he ordered, and to our shock, she obeyed, sinking to the floor, her eyes wide with lust. She took him in her mouth, her lips stretching around him as he groaned, his hands tangling in her hair. “Fuck, yes,” he grunted, thrusting into her throat. Sameer dropped his pants too, stroking himself as he watched, then pulled her hips up, positioning her on all fours. “My turn,” he said, spreading her thighs and plunging into her from behind.
Mrs. Sharma moaned around Arjun’s cock, the sound muffled but desperate as Sameer fucked her, his hips slapping against her ass. I couldn’t just watch anymore—my kurti was off, my bra discarded, my leggings and panties hitting the floor. I knelt beside her, my hands roaming her body, squeezing her swinging breasts as Sameer pounded her. “You like this, don’t you?” I whispered, pinching her nipples. She pulled off Arjun for a moment, gasping, “Yes… oh God, yes,” before he pushed back into her mouth.
Sameer’s thrusts grew harder, his hands gripping her hips, leaving red marks on her skin. “She’s so fucking tight,” he groaned, slamming into her until she shook, her muffled cries signaling her first orgasm. Arjun pulled out, his cock slick with her spit, and traded places with Sameer. “Let’s see how she takes me,” he said, entering her in one deep thrust. Mrs. Sharma screamed, her voice echoing in the empty classroom, her body rocking between them. Sameer grabbed her hair, guiding her mouth to his cock, and she sucked him eagerly, her lips swollen and wet.
I slid beneath her, my legs spread, my pussy inches from her face. “Lick me, Ma’am,” I begged, and she did—her tongue diving into me, sloppy and wild as Arjun fucked her from behind. The sensation was electric, her mouth on me while the boys took her, our moans blending into a symphony of lust. I came fast, my hips bucking against her face, my juices coating her lips as she trembled above me. Arjun grunted, “Fuck, I’m close,” and pulled out, spinning her around to face him. He stroked himself once, twice, then exploded, his cum splattering across her breasts. Sameer followed, pulling out to finish on her ass, his groans filling the air.
She wasn’t done yet. I climbed onto the desk, pulling her up with me, spreading her legs wide. “Our turn,” I said, kissing her hard, tasting myself on her lips. Arjun and Sameer watched, still hard, as I slid my fingers into her dripping pussy, fucking her fast and deep. She writhed, her hands clawing at the desk, her cries growing louder. “Don’t stop… please,” she begged, and I didn’t—adding a third finger, stretching her until she came again, her body convulsing, her pussy clenching around me.
We collapsed together, a sweaty heap on the desk—her saree in tatters, our clothes scattered, the classroom reeking of sex. She looked at us, breathless, her hair wild, her skin flushed. “You three… you’re insane,” she panted, but her smile said she loved it. Arjun grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. “Same time next week, Ma’am?” She didn’t answer, but the look in her eyes told us everything.
As we dressed, the reality of what we’d done sank in—but so did the thrill. We’d fucked our teacher, all three of us, and the classroom would never feel the same again.