His mind was racing with one singular thought: They touched me.
Liora had gripped his hair—hard.
Sienna had slapped his ass twice.
Mira had smothered him with her perky tits like they were pillows made just for humiliating losers.
He was obsessed with them—the Sweethearts of Sadism.
He craved their attention like an addict who’d just gotten their first hit of something powerful, dangerous, and absolutely intoxicating.
And now, he wanted it again.
He walked back toward the main campus buildings, hands clenched at his sides, cock still soft but pulsing inside him with anticipation—a primal hunger to be manhandled by those girls again.
Maybe they’d kick him in class later.
Maybe Liora would shove past him in the hallway without warning—her massive tits hitting him squarely in the face as she brushed by.
Or maybe Sienna would suddenly appear behind him during lunch and slap both cheeks of his bare ass right there at everyone’s table.
The possibilities made Jake’s skin prickle.
A few feet ahead, Yui was walking with a rhythmic, mesmerizing grace.
She moved through the crowded hallway completely unadorned, her body a masterclass in soft, feminine perfection.
Her short, blonde hair caught the afternoon sun, framing a face that was as striking as it was innocent.
The light highlighted the golden-tan tone of her skin and the curve of her hips, underscoring the taut, smooth flesh of her glutes as she navigated the chaos with a poise that made the surrounding, chaotic display of naked students seem entirely beneath her.
Her breasts, small and perfectly perky, bounced with a gentle, hypnotic rhythm against her chest, and her belly was soft and pale, leading down to the neat, groomed patch that was completely exposed to the world.
He was still reeling from the encounter in the hallway—the way he had just frantically masturbated while Mayuko, Rino, and Yui watched with predatory amusement—when a flash of movement caught his eye.
She turned her head slightly, her lips curling into a smile—soft, secret, and terrifyingly sweet—before she caught him staring.
Seeing her so vulnerable yet so utterly in control, moving with the confidence of a goddess in her own private garden, made his pulse skyrocket all over again.
He had spent enough chemistry lectures staring at the back of her head to map it cartographically, but today, there was simply no competing with the physics on display.
Watching her move, he couldn’t help but notice how her body possessed a natural allure that felt like a direct assault on his fragile mental state.
She was a masterclass in elegant, unassuming beauty, moving through the sea of naked students as if she were walking through a private garden rather than a public display of academic insanity. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Seeing Yui, his new girlfriend’s closest confidante, sauntering into the room made him feel like he was wearing a neon sign that blared: I’M A DISASTER, AND I LOVE EVERY SECOND OF IT.
He felt exposed, sure, but in a thrill-seeking way—like the secret of his public humiliation and the impending “date” were written in glowing, lewd letters across his forehead, a badge of honor marking him as a man who had finally stopped pretending he wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be.
He pushed the door open, his eyes desperately scanning the floor, trying to find a seat in the back row that would allow him to blend into the shadows.
“Ah, nice of you to join us, Mr.
Jake.”
The voice boomed from the front of the room, cutting through the ambient hum of hushed whispers.
Jake froze.
He was forced to look up.
Professor Halloway stood at the podium, completely, jarringly nude.
But it wasn’t the nudity that stopped Jake’s heart; it was the anatomy.
Halloway’s dick was hanging there, unadorned and unapologetic, its sheer, wrinkled length and the heavy, sagging weight of his balls swinging with every slight movement of his hips.
It was a shocking, grotesque display that defied any attempt at clinical detachment.
“Take a seat, Mr.
Jake,” Halloway said, his tone casual, as if they were discussing a homework assignment.
The professor began a lecture on molecular bonding, but his teaching style was maddeningly tactile.
Every few minutes, he would lean over to adjust a microscope or drop a piece of chalk, bending deeply at the waist with rigid, professional posture.
Every time he leaned down, his hairy, sagging buttocks parted, exposing the deep, dark trench of his crack and a glimpse of his unwashed, wiry interior.
Jake watched in stunned horror as students in the front row diligently scribbled notes, their pens flying across the paper as if the view of the professor’s hairy asshole were vital academic information.
Jake blinked, scratching his head, wondering exactly what kind of breakthrough they were documenting.
“Mr.
Jake,” Halloway suddenly barked, standing straight and letting his pendulous anatomy settle with a soft thud.
“Have you been listening to a single word I’ve said?” Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Jake snapped to attention, his face burning.
“Yes, Professor.”
Halloway sneered, a slow, predatory movement of his thin lips.
“Prove it.
If you’ve been paying attention, you should be able to solve this on the board.”
He turned, his bare, hairy back to the class, and scribbled an equation so convoluted and filled with nonsensical variables that it looked more like a map of a nervous breakdown than chemistry.
He gestured with a chalk-dusted hand, his balls swaying in the draft of the room.
“Well?
Choose your answer, Mr.
Jake.
And be precise.”
A.
The total energy flux equals the gradient of the surface tension multiplied by the atomic mass.
B.
The reaction is endothermic due to the spatial flux of the unwashed variables.
C.
The equilibrium constant is undefined because the professor is distracting me with his swinging testicles.
D.
The molecular density is directly proportional to the visible surface area of the instructor.
Jake stared at the board, his brain frantic.
He knew if he chose the wrong answer, he’d face a severe, headmistress-mandated punishment.
With the grotesque, rhythmic sight of Halloway’s swinging anatomy serving as a constant, nausea-inducing distraction, a public reprimand from the man was the absolute last thing he wanted.