Jan. Week 3: Friday(Condom)-Mr. Bill Cums...with Leah on top (Suspicion:+5)

Mr. Bill's breathing changed first—shallow, then ragged, his massive chest heaving beneath her palms. His fingers dug into her hips hard enough to bruise as he thrust upward, lifting her slightly off the couch.

"Gonna fill this rubber up," he growled, his accent thickening with each word. His face contorted, eyes squeezing shut, mouth frozen in a grimace that looked almost like pain.

When it hit him, his whole body went rigid. Leah felt him pulse inside her, each throb distinct and forceful as he emptied himself. The latex barrier between them grew warm, then hot, as it collected his release. She watched his expression shift from tension to slack-jawed relief, sweat beading across his forehead like dew.

Leah slumped forward, exhausted and half-limp, unable to muster a comeback. She was slick with sweat, her thighs quivering with exhaustion, her cunt throbbing around his still-pulsing cock. She wanted to crawl off him, to collapse on the floor, to die for just a minute. When it was over, Mr. Bill bounced her a few more times for good measure, then yanked her up and off him with a wet, popping sound. She collapsed onto the couch beside him her body tired with shame and disgust. A dead silence hung between them, thick as glue until he broke the silence.

“Damn,” he said again, voice lower now, almost gentle. “You sho feel good.”

Bill’s cock, still half-erect and impossibly oversized, jutted obscenely from his lap, glistening with their mess. He moved with unhurried efficiency, peeling off the spent condom and tying it with a neat, practiced flick. The latex balloon, bloated and cloudy, landed in the dented trash can with a slap. He wiped himself with a handful of rough brown paper towels from the dispenser on the wall—like he’d just finished working on a carburetor, not fucking a colleague in a broom closet as he fished for clothes. Leah let herself slump for one, maybe two heartbeats, then **** herself to move to find her clothing. She was going to be aching tonight...and probably tomorrow...maybe longer.

She couldn’t look at Bill. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to look at him again, not without seeing this moment projected across his face in all its shameful glory. She could feel his eyes on her, heat and hunger and a kind of lazy satisfaction that made her skin crawl.

“You know, if this education thing don’t work out, I got a friend in Atlanta does movies. Real professional setup. He could use a natural like you. You got a gift, Miss Leah.” He chuckled.

“Pass. But thanks for the feedback.” She bared her teeth, which was as close to a smile as she could get.

The halls were blessedly empty. Only the faint echo of voices from nearby halls. She shuffled past the trophy cases and pep rally posters, every step a reminder of what she’d just let happen, what she’d done.

She made it to her classroom with a minute to spare. She locked the door, leaned against it, and let her forehead rest on the cool metal.