After Hours in Room 302

In my late hours after class ended, I would sometimes slip into Room 302 for a quick session with my partner. The chalkboard was still scrawled with today's lesson notes when we stripped down, me tossing aside the tie and blazer that kept me professional during school hours. She’d stroke my length while I pressed her against the desk, fingers exploring until she spread wide for me to enter. Our bodies moved rhythmically in that small space, breath mingling as each thrust pushed us closer to release. It’s strange how these afternoons blur into memories of chalk dust and heated skin.