The final bell had rung, leaving the classroom in a heavy, expectant silence. Evgeniya Viktorovna, her voluptuous curves straining against a tight wool sweater, leaned over her desk to gather papers. Her round face flushed as she felt it—a familiar, brazen hand sliding over her generous ass, squeezing the soft flesh through her skirt.

“Sanchir,” she breathed, not turning, a shiver running through her plump body. The boy, all lean muscle and arrogant smirk, didn’t retreat. His fingers dug in, claiming the handful of her juicy booty.

Across the room, Kermen, slender and elegant in a crisp blouse and pencil skirt, pretended to fix the blinds. She knew she was next. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She saw Sanchir’s reflection in the window—his hungry eyes leaving Evgeniya’s thick hips to track her own narrow waist.

He moved like a predator. Evgeniya bit her lip, arching her back slightly, pushing her round tits forward as if by accident. Sanchir’s other hand came around, palming her heavy breast through the wool. He thumbed her stiff nipple, making her gasp. “Such a good teacher,” he murmured, his breath hot on her neck.

Then he was gone, stalking toward Kermen. The slender teacher froze, the air crackling. His hands landed on her hips, spinning her gently to face him. His gaze dropped to the visible outline of her small, pert tits. “You’re so tense, Miss,” he said, his voice low.

One hand slid up her