Meera Kapoor barely slept that night, her body a battlefield of shame and treacherous aftershocks. The dusty storage room's musty scent clung to her skin no matter how vigorously she scrubbed in the shower, hot water cascading over her curvaceous form as she sobbed quietly—fingers tracing the faint bruises on her wide hips where Rohan's grip had dug in, her shaved pussy still tender and swollen, throbbing with the ghost of his thick cock stretching her married walls. Vikram slept beside her, oblivious, his cold demeanor unchanged even in slumber. But every time Meera closed her eyes, she felt it again: the brutal slam of Rohan's shaft bottoming out, his heavy balls slapping her engorged clit, the hot flood of his student cum filling her womb until it leaked in thick, pearly strands down her thighs as she stumbled home, saree hastily readjusted, panties ruined and abandoned in the trash.
By morning, the Mumbai humidity wrapped around her like a suffocating embrace as she dressed for school—a modest green saree that clung to her sweat-damp curves, the thin blouse doing little to hide her massive, heavy breasts, dark nipples stiffening against the fabric from the lingering arousal she hated. Her pussy lips, still puffy and sensitive, rubbed slickly together with each step, fresh nectar leaking into her fresh black panties as forbidden memories flashed: the obscene squelch of her gushing cunt around his veiny length, her own slutty moans echoing in that dim room.
School was torture. In the corridors, students buzzed as usual, the air thick with teenage chatter and the faint chalk dust from blackboards, but Meera's hazel eyes darted nervously, heart pounding every time she spotted Rohan's tall, broad-shouldered frame lounging against a locker. He caught her gaze once, smirking lazily, his piercing dark eyes raking over her body like ownership—lingering on the sway of her big ass under the saree pleats. She flushed hot, thighs clenching involuntarily, a fresh trickle of arousal soaking her panties as shame burned her cheeks.
The real torment came during her English class—Rohan's section. He sat in the back row, uniform shirt stretched tight over his toned chest, legs spread casually as he stared at her unblinkingly while she lectured on Shakespeare. Meera's voice faltered midway through explaining Romeo's passion, her mind flashing to Rohan's growled commands: "Suck it, teacher... fuck, your mouth is heaven." Heat pooled low in her belly, her clit throbbing against the seam of her panties as she shifted behind the podium, the wooden edge pressing subtly against her mound for relief she despised needing.
After the bell, as students filed out, Rohan lingered, approaching her desk with that predatory swagger. The classroom emptied slowly, the door clicking shut behind the last student, leaving them alone—the air heavy with the scent of old books, faint sweat from the un-air-conditioned room, and now the sharp, underlying musk of her growing arousal. "Mrs. Kapoor," he murmured low, leaning over the desk close enough for her to smell his clean, masculine cologne mixed with teenage vitality. "The photo's gone... but I can't stop thinking about yesterday. Your tight pussy clenching around my cock, milking me dry."
Meera's breath hitched, massive tits heaving as she whispered harshly, "This ends now. You got what you wanted—leave us alone."
Rohan's smirk deepened, his hand sliding under the desk to brush her thigh through the saree—fingers tracing up slowly, teasing the edge of her petticoat until she froze, a whimper escaping despite herself. "But you came so hard, teacher. Squirted like a slut all over me. And you're wet now—I can smell it." He was right; her pussy leaked profusely, the creamy nectar soaking through her panties, the humid heat making it impossible to hide.
Before she could protest, Rohan locked the classroom door with a deliberate click, pulling the blinds halfway to shadow them from the corridor windows. "One more time," he growled, yanking her up and bending her over the teacher's desk—papers scattering, chalk dust puffing into the air as her saree hiked up roughly, exposing her big, round ass in those soaked black panties. He ripped them down mercilessly, the fabric tearing slightly, cool air kissing her dripping pink folds—swollen lips parted and glistening, inner walls fluttering visibly as thick strands of arousal trailed down her thick thighs.
"Please... not here," Meera begged breathlessly, but her body betrayed her, ass arching back as Rohan freed his cock—thick, veiny, rock-hard and leaking precum—and rubbed the swollen head along her slick slit, coating himself in her creamy juices with lewd, squelching sounds that echoed in the empty room.
"Beg for it, married slut," he commanded, teasing her engorged clit in circles until her hips bucked involuntarily, fresh nectar squirting lightly onto his shaft.
"Fuck me... please," she whispered brokenly, tears of humiliation mixing with raw need.
Rohan slammed in with one savage thrust—burying balls-deep in her scalding, tight heat, stretching her wider than Vikram ever had, the ridge of his head battering her cervix as her walls clenched greedily around him. "Ahh! So fucking full... too big!" Meera cried out, massive tits squishing against the desk, blouse buttons straining as they bounced with his immediate hard rhythm—wet, fleshy slaps filling the classroom, his heavy balls smacking her throbbing clit relentlessly, frothy juices splattering the floor and his pants.
He gripped her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck, pounding mercilessly—each thrust churning yesterday's dried cum deeper, her pussy gushing obscenely around him in rhythmic squelches. The air thickened with the sharp tang of sex, sweat beading on her golden skin, dripping down her cleavage as her moans turned slutty and desperate: "Oh god... deeper... ahh ahh fuck my married pussy!"
Rohan reached around, pinching her stiff nipples through the blouse, twisting until she screamed muffled into her arm—tension building unbearably as her walls fluttered wildly. They shattered together: Meera's cunt spasming in violent, milking waves, squirting hot jets that soaked his balls and the desk; Rohan's cock pulsing thick, hot ropes deep into her womb again, breeding her married hole with fresh student seed until it overflowed in creamy globs, leaking down her thighs in pearly rivers.
He pulled out slowly, watching the waterfall of cum from her gaping pink lips, then tucked himself away with a satisfied groan. "This protects your husband... for another day," he whispered, unlocking the door and slipping out casually.
Meera collapsed over the desk, body trembling in aftershocks, pussy throbbing and leaking his load onto the floor as shame and ecstasy warred inside her. She cleaned up hastily, the classroom reeking of their sin, but deep in her core, a forbidden craving stirred—she knew she'd be wet tomorrow, waiting for his next demand. The blackmail wasn't ending; it was only deepening.