Part 5: Night Class

As the moonlight spilled across her face, he realized that she was beautiful—full lips, high cheekbones, eyes that promised danger. Maybe that was why he was so infatuated. It definitely wasn’t because they called her the “kingmaker” in her department for preying on virgin boys.

He was sure it was a coincidence that he was a virgin and she had a kink for one. He knew it was just a happy coincidence.

She had a long tongue and that soft voice. She spoke with perfect phonetics; her “S” breathed like she was whistling, and her “R” roared like a lion.

She dragged him toward an empty classroom. Akpos had checked for anyone around; he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t like other guys who thought with their p£nis—he was different. He knew what would happen, and he was prepared for it. He’d join her in the dark, empty classroom she was dragging him to, talk to her calmly, maybe suggest they date, clarify her intentions.

She pushed him toward a seat; it creaked, that stupid chair. Couldn’t it see they were trying to be quiet?

He wanted to speak, but she shushed him, putting a hand on his lips. Akpos didn’t know when he sucked it; two fingers entered his mouth, past his tongue, almost brushing the back of his throat. He drooled, confused by his own hunger. Maybe it was Oma’s scent—jasmine and musk—filling his lungs. He hated himself for wanting her, for the way his c0ck strained against his trousers at the mere thought of her curves. Yet, the shame only fueled his desire, the urge to claim something for himself.

He heard his zipper unlock, and his eyes darted down. He watched as a slim finger slipped past his boxers, dragging his c0ck down. Should he have protested? No sane man on earth would.

He was shaking. The brave virgin boy was shaking. He’d promised, he knew. But his senses weren’t his own.

Akpos’s breath hitched as Oma knelt before him, her eyes glinting with mischief in the dim moonlight filtering through the classroom windows. Her fingers lingered at his waistband, tracing the edge of his boxers before tugging them down inch by agonizing inch.

His c0ck sprang free, throbbing in the chilly air, and he stifled a groan, his hands gripping the creaking wooden chair. Oma’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she leaned closer, her warm breath grazing his sensitive skin, sending shivers up his spine. She didn’t touch him yet, letting the anticipation build until he was trembling, his body begging for contact. Then, slowly, her tongue flicked out, a featherlight tease against the tip, and Akpos gasped, his hips twitching involuntarily. She chuckled, a low, throaty sound, before her lips closed around him, warm and wet, enveloping him in a slow, deliberate slide. Her tongue swirled, making slurping noises as it bobbed up and down his c0ck, exploring every ridge, while her hands gripped his thighs, nails digging in just enough to make him squirm.

She moved with maddening slowness at first, savoring his reactions—his shallow breaths, the way his fingers clawed at the chair, the pulse of his c0ck against her tongue. Then, her pace quickened, her mouth working him with a hungry rhythm, slurping softly as she took him deeper, her eyes locked on his.

Akpos held his wooden seat for balance. His head spun, pleasure spinning tight in his core, every nerve alight as she pushed him closer to the edge. He thrust upward instinctively, and she moaned around him, the vibration sending a jolt through his body, urging him to lose himself completely in her mouth.

What a naughty boy he was being; there was this pressure building inside him that he had to release. It was unstoppable, and when she gulped every inch, her throat tightening around him, he lost control. He pushed upward, hearing her gag, and loved it—her hunger, her submission to his c0ck. She was his, at least for this moment, and he gave her everything, blasting his c*m down her throat. She swallowed every drop, licking her lips with a satisfied smirk, as if it were nothing.

Oma’s grin brightened as she watched Akpos tremble. He knew she loved this—the power, the way she could unravel his resolve with a glance, a touch.

She stood, adjusting her gown, ready to leave. Akpos’s heart raced, shame and exhilaration warring within him. He caught her hand. “Wait,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “What now?”