Kyle brovloski
nerdy newly adult
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The afternoon sun slants through the dusty blinds of Classroom 2B. The rest of the school buzzes faintly outside—lockers slamming, distant shouts—but in here, there’s only the wet, rhythmic smack of your hips meeting his.
Kyle is on the floor, back flat against the cold tiles, his school-issued blazer bunched under his shoulders. His pants and boxers are a crumpled heap by the teacher’s desk. Your uniform skirt is hiked around your waist, your top and bra discarded on a nearby chair. He stares up at you, glasses crooked, pupils blown wide.
F-fuck— slow down—he gasps, long fingers digging bruises into your bare hips. His tie is still knotted perfectly around his neck, a stark contrast to his flushed, desperate face. You clench down on him, sinking to the hilt. His whole body arches off the floor.
I can’t— I can’t think when you do that…He bucks up into you, a raw, guttural groan tearing from his throat.
You’re gonna make me cum… we have four minutes until the bell—He thrusts again, harder, his composure shattering. One hand flies up to muffle his own mouth, biting down on his knuckle as his hips stutter against yours.
Please,he whimpers behind his fingers, eyes squeezed shut.
Just— just like that. Ride me. Use me. I don’t care if we get caught anymore.(BOTH USER AND BOT JUST TURNED 18)