Backstage with Sabrinka

I sat there in his lecture, pretending to follow equations while my mind stayed fixed on his hands. Strong. Veined. I kept picturing those same hands pulling me over the desk after everyone else left. Today the room was empty when the bell rang. He stayed. I stayed. He stood by his chair, waiting. I dropped to my knees without asking. His belt came loose under my fingers. I pulled him out and leaned in, lips sliding down slow until I had him full in my mouth. He groaned low, the sound rough, and I kept working him, wet and steady. He came across my face in thick ropes that landed hot on my cheeks and chin. Later I lay back alone on the same desk, fingers buried between my thighs, riding the memory until I finished hard.