The piano scales droned from the practice room as I slipped into the hallway, my cock already stiff in my jeans. Anastasia Fyodorovna had been eyeing me all lesson—those stern blue eyes lingering on my lips, her fingers tapping the metronome with a rhythm that felt like a heartbeat between her thighs. She followed me out, the click of her heels a deliberate echo.
“You’re skipping, Aleks,” she murmured, cornering me by the restroom door. Her perfume—something dark and floral—wrapped around us. “I should report you.”
“You won’t,” I said, my voice rough.
She smirked, pushing the door open and dragging me inside. The stall was cramped, all cold tile and the sharp scent of cleaner. Anastasia didn’t waste time. Her hands went to my belt, yanking it open. “You’ve been staring at my tits all semester,” she breathed, pulling down my jeans and boxers. My dick sprang out, thick and leaking. “This what you wanted?”
I groaned as her fingers wrapped around my shaft, her thumb smearing pre-cum over the head. She dropped to her knees, her blonde bun coming loose. “Quiet,” she ordered, before taking me deep into her mouth. Her lips stretched around my girth, her tongue swirling under the crown. The wet, slurping sounds echoed in the stall, her moans vibrating through my cock. She deep-throated me, gagging softly, her mascara smudging.
“Fuck, your mouth,” I hissed, tangling my hands in her hair.
She pulled off with a pop, standing to hike up her tight pencil skirt. No panties. Her pussy was already glistening, pink and swollen. “Bend me over,” she demanded, bracing against the toilet paper dispenser. I pressed against her from behind, my cock nudging her slit. She was dripping wet, her folds parting easily as I pushed inside.
“Oh, *blyad*,” she gasped as I filled her, her tight cunt clenching around me. I set a brutal pace, slamming into her, the slap of our skin loud against the tiles. Her tits bounced in her blouse, nipples hard against the fabric. I reached around to rub her clit, feeling it throb under my fingers.
“You like getting fucked during your own lesson?” I grunted, pounding harder.
“Yes—*da*—right there!” she cried, her walls pulsing. I could feel her orgasm building, her cunt gripping me like a vise. She came with a shuddering scream, her juices soaking my dick. That pushed me over. I pulled out, spraying my cum across her ass and lower back, stripes of white on her skin.
We stood there panting, the sound of a Chopin étude faint through the wall. She straightened her skirt, wiping herself with toilet paper. “Back to class,” she said, her voice steady again, but her eyes were dark with promise. “We’ll work on your… rhythm.”