The bell had rung, but Anya wasn't heading to class. The petite blonde with the sharp pixie cut had heard whispers about a forgotten maintenance closet in the east wing. Her small frame, topped with a perky fourth-cup rack that strained against her tight top, slipped through the slightly ajar door.

Inside was not a closet. It was a dim, dusty room with a single bare bulb. And on the far wall, cut into the cheap drywall, were three perfect holes. A gloryhole. A thrill shot straight to her pussy, making her clit throb in her cotton panties. She adjusted her knee-high socks, the white cuffs tight against her calves, and her sneakers squeaked on the linoleum.

She didn't have to wait long. A thick, veiny cock, already slick with pre-cum, slid silently through the center hole. Anya dropped to her knees, the denim of her shorts pulling tight. She didn't hesitate. Wrapping her small hand around the base, she felt its heat and weight. She leaned in, her pink lips parting, and swirled her tongue around the swollen purple head, tasting salty musk.

"Fuck yeah, suck it," a gruff voice muttered from the other side.

Anya took him deep, letting his dick hit the back of her throat. She bobbed her head, making wet, slurping sounds echo in the small room. Her free hand crept under her shirt, pinching her own hard nipple through her bra. She could feel her own wetness soaking through her panties.

Suddenly, the door behind her creaked open. Another guy—tall, with hungry eyes—stepped in