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The itch was unbearable. Sweat trickled down her back as Kuweni Devi clutched the edge of the desk, eyes screwed shut. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, a harsh contrast to the hot, stuffy classroom. Her hair, tied back in a severe bun, framed her flushed face. She moaned, breathing ragged, as tremors of pleasure coursed through her body.
It had been three weeks since she first saw him. Her student, her student! The very thought made her core throb with desire. He was tall and lean, with skin the color of rich chocolate and eyes that smoldered with barely contained lust. And just like that, her years of dutiful monogamy had careened off a cliff.
Her husband had grown complacent in their loveless marriage. Seventeen years of unimaginative coupling had left her craving something more. Anything more. And then, into her classroom walked the perfect distraction – the very image of Brahmachari, the unattainable monk.
Otille was his name. A sixth grader with a devilish smirk and bedroom eyes that followed her everywhere, even into her fevered dreams. At first, she tried to ignore it, to deny the carnal urges that made her breasts heave and panties damp. But each passing day only intensified her longing, until finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Are you all right, Teacher? You seem… different lately.”
She had been grading papers at her desk when the young boy approached, his voice husky. She fireplace banned his words and gaze, heart pounding, as he leaned against her desk and smiled. His collared shirt pulled taut across his broad chest, sleeve riding up to reveal muscular forearms. The button between his legs strained against his shorts, and she wondered if he was as hard as the bulge suggested.
Kuweni swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “I’m fine, Otille. Just… feeling a little under the weather.”
He reached out, trailing a finger up her bare arm. Goosebumps erupted in its wake. “You should let me take care of you today. I can make you feel so much better.”
Her logical mind screamed in protest at his audacious offer. But her wanton body cried out for the pleasure she knew this virile youth could provide. Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her gaze to meet his, and then, with a small, shaky nod, she gave permission.
The room seemed to tilt as he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss. She groaned, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he lifted her effortlessly onto the desk. The coolness of it bit through her thin skirt where she straddled his hips. Already she could feel the sizeable heat of his arousal pressing urgently against her.
Deft hands deftly divested her of her blouse, pausing to admire her heaving breasts encased in a lacy bra that barely contained them. “Goddess, you’re gorgeous,” he purred, thumbing her nipples hard through the fabric until they pebbled. “I knew you would be.”
Kuweni shuddered at his touch, pleased and frightened by his boldness. The taboo nature of their encounter only heightened her lust, each stolen caress driving her deeper into a frenzy of need.
When he reached for her skirt, she didn’t stop him. Couldn’t stop him. Not when releasing her skirt and panties would expose her nakedness, the proof of her illicit desire soaking the delicate lace. She lifted her hips eagerly as he stripped her bare, biting down on her knuckle to keep from crying out.
“There’s my beautiful teacher,” Otille growled, massaging her slit. “Getting nice and wet for me.” She whimpered, gripping his shoulders, torn between shame and ecstasy. This brave boy, her child, making her groan and writhe with the touch of a man centuries her senior.
“Please…” she begged, hating herself even as she angled her hips into his knowing fingers. “Please, I need…”
“Shhh.” He silenced her with another devastating kiss, stretching her out on the desk. And then he was pushing inside, bigger than anything she’d felt before. Stretching her, filling her, claiming her.
Ecstasy, white hot and all-consuming, crashed over her in waves as he moved. The desk creaked under their weight, each inward thrust striking her depths in a frenzy of passion. She clutched at him, drawing him deeper, relishing each frantic pump of his hips. The boy was insatiable, her student ravaging his teacher with an enthusiasm that marked him a rutting stallion.
“Oh god, Oh GOD!” Her vision blurred, thighs shaking as he pounded into her, chasing his own release. Pressure built inside her, a dam about to burst.
“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” Otille grunted, sweat dripping down his face. “Milking my cock. I’m going to fill you up, fill this cunt until you’re screaming.”
She came with a wail, back arching sharply as pleasure exploded through her. Then his hips were driving into her, grinding, dragging out her orgasm in pulsing spurts of seed. Her walls rippled around him, drunk on his essence and the utter wrongness of it.
They collapsed together, panting, sticky with sweat and sex. And Kuweni closed her eyes, desperate to forget the consequences of her forbidden love, even as shame and fear clawed at her heart.
Kuweni awoke the next morning and found a note on her desk. It was from Otille and it said she had fulfilled her duty and that this was their last time and the next time is not okay. Kuweni felt a sharp sting in her heart, realizing the depth of his pain. That night, she called her husband and asked for a divorce, the passion she felt with Otille awakening her to the affair she had become trapped in.
