Pleasure After Detention II

HE began to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending a shockwave through her. Her internal muscles clenched around him, urging him deeper. The desk creaked beneath their combined weight.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, her hands digging into his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. The pleasure was overwhelming, a tidal wave crashing over her.

He sped up, his hips slamming against hers, the wet, slapping sound echoing in the silent classroom. Her ...