Homework

Lara wants help with geography for tomorrow's test, but flat maps and old capital cities feel dead compared to the heat already passing between us. I lean back, smile, and suggest something far more useful than longitudes or useless mineral lists. She listens. Her mouth parts. A slow breath escapes her throat when my hand slides up her bare thigh beneath the table. Geography can wait. Her skirt rides higher. My fingers trace warm skin, move closer to the place she wants touched, and her notes scatter across the floor as she leans into me instead of her textbook. She tastes sweet when my lips reach the side of her neck. Her legs spread wider without argument. The chair creaks under her shifting weight. I pull her onto my lap and she grinds down, fabric whispering between us until it doesn't anymore. My hand finds her wet, opens her gently, strokes exactly where it makes her moan. She grabs my shoulders, rides my fingers, breath quickening with each circle of my thumb over her clit. Geography gets forgotten. She fucks herself on my hand until her cunt pulses hard and she comes, shaking, forehead pressed against mine. Wetness slicks my fingers, drips down to the wooden chair. I lift her onto the table, push inside her in one slow thrust, watch her eyes roll back. Her cunt grips, tight and hot, demanding every inch. Each stroke drags a gasp from her mouth. My hips snap faster. She clutches the edge of the table and meets every thrust, her nipples hard under my palm through her thin shirt. The wood underneath her creaks in rhythm. She comes again, back arching, inner walls fluttering around me. I follow right after, buried deep, spilling inside her while she holds me close and breathes my name into my hair.