Schoolroom secrets

She came over for equations. Books scattered across the desk while we whispered solutions. Her hair caught the light when she leaned close. I asked her again about a formula, and she looked at me with that slow smile. Her hand slid under my skirt instead of turning the page. The classroom stayed quiet around us, desks empty except for ours. She pressed two fingers into me at first, testing. Then three. When I gasped, she added a fourth. I opened wider for her, legs braced against the chair legs. She eased in, knuckle by knuckle, until her whole hand filled me. The stretch made my breath catch. I gripped the edge of the desk and pushed back against her wrist. She moved carefully, watching my face, then deeper, curling inside until the pressure made me shake. The room smelled like pencil shavings and the slick heat between my thighs. She kept working her fist, slow and steady, until I came hard around her hand, biting my lip to stay quiet.