Extra Credit at the Sports University

Stable. Laid-back. Unflappable. These were words that described Archana's personality quite accurately. But a sharp elbow to the head could put absolutely anyone off their game.

One moment she had been fiercely defending the 18-yard box from a corner kick during the practice match, the next she was flat on her back in a complete stupor. A keen attacker from the opposing side had leapt in to meet the ball and carelessly struck Archana right in the face, knocking her hard to the turf. She had gone down heavily and had absolutely no opportunity to brace for the fall; the brutal impact took the wind right out of her lungs.

Shock and embarrassment swirled in her brain as she lay on the grass, looking up at the other college women standing over her. Worst of all, she discovered as her teammates pulled her to her feet, the assistant coaches officiating the intra-college match had somehow completely missed the blatant foul. One curse-laden, furious outburst later, Archana was sent off the football field, fuming and deeply indignant.

The cavernous university stadium felt much lonelier than it had just a few minutes ago. Archana retrieved a plastic icepack from a cooler on the sidelines and retreated down the concrete tunnel towards the women's locker room. Pressing the freezing ice gingerly to her throbbing cheek, she deliberately ignored the pairs of eyes watching her from the benches as she passed. The junior batch would certainly have something juicy to gossip about in the hostel tonight, if nothing else.

She caught the sight of her scowling face in a mirrored section of the hallway. Archana was a local Hyderabad girl, naturally athletic and slim, but she had inherited absolutely none of the height that normally came with her family's genes. She was the shortest woman in her extended family, and the shortest member of the senior football squad by a wide margin, making it all the more strange that the coaches had been positioning her as a fullback of late.

Archana had spent most of her teenage years being told she was a natural winger—small, shifty, and quick, with a distinct talent for running the ball forward and setting up an attack from the wide edges of the field.

Defending at close quarters against women of much greater size and strength seemed like a terribly poor fit for her natural abilities. What do I know anyway, she thought with a sigh, sitting down heavily on the wooden bench in front of her locker and resting her elbows on her bare knees. I'm fortunate to even be here.

Being selected on a full scholarship to attend Hyderabad Sports University was a golden opportunity she had worked incredibly hard for. If she just kept her head down, she could earn a valuable degree and still have a very realistic chance of turning pro. And yet, it proved incredibly difficult to feel grateful amidst the throbbing physical pain and rising anger.

As privileged a position as it was, the daily reality in the sports college could really grate on the nerves. Archana had endured the first two years of her adulthood in a tightly regimented, strict environment. Now nearing her twentieth birthday, there were precious few opportunities to escape from all the exhausting discipline and daily routine. She yearned deeply for the relative freedom that high school had offered, which now felt like a distant memory.

Lost in thought, and still stewing on the plain wooden bench, Archana barely registered the college team's eventual return to the changing rooms. It seemed that the coaching staff and the players alike were more than happy to give her a wide berth. Even her hostel roommate Lavanya, probably her closest friend at the university, had tactfully kept her distance. For someone of Archana's near-faultless disciplinary record, there were unlikely to be any severe further consequences for her outburst on the field—the coaches could easily overlook a rare individual infraction. Knowing this, however, did very little to lessen the sharp sting of the humiliating incident.

A half-hour later, the locker room had all but cleared out for the sultry afternoon, and Archana was left completely alone with her sour mood, a melted icepack, and half-remembered pieces of conversation. She had waved off one assistant coach's suggestion about getting her face looked at by the medical staff, and grumbled a vague response to a question about going pub-hopping in Jubilee Hills that night from several of her teammates. Finally, after tiring of the echoing sound of a dripping faucet in the background, Archana peeled off her sweaty jersey and tossed it aggressively against the metal door of her locker. It was time for a much-needed shower.

Removing her football studs, Archana stripped out of the rest of her muddy kit and added her damp sports bra and underwear to the growing pile on the floor. The soggy tiles underfoot were pleasantly cool and soothing as she strode completely naked around a tiled corner into the rows of open shower stalls. The heavy water pressure soon brought her tired muscles back to life as she took a deep, relaxing breath of the steamy air. After standing in place under the hot spray for a good while, an intense urge to get moving took over her senses.

Ignoring the tender, bruised spot on her cheek where she had absorbed the elbow, Archana rubbed her face and wet body vigorously with her hands, intentionally slowing down as her slippery palms passed over her breasts; her dark nipples hardened almost immediately under the stimulation. The sudden sensation snapped her eyes open, and she leaned out past the partition to spy up and down the completely empty stalls. Resting her wet hands on her toned, athletic stomach, she quickly resolved to act. I want to cum. I dare anyone to try and stop me.

Desperate to feel absolutely anything other than the frustration she currently felt, Archana let one hand slide down her wet stomach to her now slippery folds to begin massaging her sensitive clit. The physical relief was near instantaneous, and she cracked a wicked, satisfied smile. But after a long, delicious minute of rising pleasure, it became abundantly clear that this superficial touch wouldn't be enough. She needed to cum hard. Lacking any toys or apparatus within reach, she dove her other hand between her trembling legs and forced a middle finger deep inside her dripping pussy.

Between her internal swooning and the intense heat of the shower water, Archana started to feel her balance naturally waning and pressed her wet forehead against the tiled shower wall to steady her shaking legs. The targeted pressure on her swollen clit and the rhythmic finger fucking were getting her closer to a climax with each passing second, but she realized she needed one final ingredient: a mental target to focus on.

From the deep recesses of her horny mind, a man suddenly appeared—Professor Shekhar, the handsome sports medicine instructor. She had been sitting in his classroom just that very morning.

The mental image was so incredibly unexpected that Archana almost pulled out of her lustful trance in sheer surprise. Soon enough, however, there was no stopping her rushing momentum, and she mentally latched onto the attractive professor, vividly picturing him taking her roughly atop a desk in some wild delirium of lust. Without a spare hand to cover her mouth, she cried out loudly in pure ecstasy, her voice echoing sharply around the hard, wet surfaces of the empty showers.

Shutting the water flow off, Archana collapsed to her knees atop the metal drain and tried to catch her breath. That's so strange, she thought, wondering exactly where that specific impulse had drawn from. She had occasionally crushed on male teachers before, but rarely masturbated while actively thinking about them. Hmmm. Any port in a storm, I guess?

When was the last time she had actually orgasmed that hard, she wondered, drawing a complete blank. Perhaps during the long summer break, briefly relapsing with an old ex-boyfriend from home—a minor mistake she had later deeply regretted. There had been a few infrequent hook-ups throughout her residency at the sports university, though absolutely none had led anywhere meaningful, and very few resulted in repeat business.

Cumming had evidently been exactly what her stressed body needed, and Archana returned to her open locker feeling highly satisfied, though still a bit confused about exactly where her mind had just ventured. I'm overthinking it, she decided, donning some loose-fitting track pants and an oversized t-shirt after vigorously towelling off. She looked like a damp, bedraggled mess, but only a very short walk back to her hostel block awaited her. At this late afternoon hour, there was very little chance of an awkward encounter with someone of real importance.

Piling her dirty football kit into a canvas gym bag, Archana stuffed her bare feet into a pair of slip-on sneakers and headed out into the quiet hallway towards the stadium's rear exit.

With her head still swimming pleasantly from the heavy release of endorphins, Archana smiled as she walked, letting the heavy bag sway with each step. Then, from a dim side-passage, a deep male voice called out, "Miss Archana?"

Startled, Archana spun around in fright to meet the highly familiar voice. Her jaw instantly dropped open.

"Professor Shekhar?" Here stood the sports medicine instructor himself, looking exactly as if he had been conjured directly from her dirty thoughts.

Archana felt her face turning a deep, burning red; to see him standing there so soon after having just vividly imagined him fucking her madly set the ground beneath her shaking. Per his usual style, he wore a smartly fitted shirt—light blue, with the embroidered crest of the university sitting over his heart—and a pair of tailored formal trousers, neatly belted at the waist. Notably, in a sports workplace where running shoes or athletic sneakers were the absolute norm, he wore polished brown dress shoes with tidy laces. He was tall, with lean, defined muscle and a naturally tapered body that hinted at his own background as a competitive swimmer; dark, intelligent eyes sat below darker, neatly trimmed curls, a curious and kindly expression resting on his handsome face.

"Sorry to frighten you," he said warmly, scanning the empty hall. "Is Coach Divya around here somewhere? I really have to return her spare facility keys before I leave."

"N-no, she's already gone," stammered Archana, her blood racing through her veins. She felt completely, transparently exposed. Can he somehow tell I was just thinking about him?

It was an undeniably insane thought, but still, it rapidly gained traction in her mind. Suddenly, the extremely shabby track outfit she was wearing came to mind. Her whole body sagged with embarrassment. Of all the people on campus to see me looking like this. I look like a drowned rat.

"Damn," Professor Shekhar whispered, seemingly resigned to his fate. "Well, I'll just have to track her down tomorrow morning." He paused slightly, raising a hand and gesturing gently towards the dark, purpling bruise forming on her cheek. "You took a nasty knock out there?"

"Yes—but I'm fine," she said, trying to sound almost convincingly tough.

"Good." To her immense relief, the professor turned on his polished heels to head back the way he had come. Yet, right before she could take a calming breath, he stopped and swivelled towards her once again. "Your full name is 'Archana', isn't it?"

God, what now? "Yes?"

He smiled warmly. "I believe you completely forgot your sports medicine textbook in class earlier today, judging from the name scribbled on the inside cover."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, finally grasping what he meant. Come to think of it, her heavy backpack had definitely felt lighter than it should have all afternoon. "I'm so sorry..."

"No problem at all. I would hate for you to miss out on the assigned reading for the weekend. If you want to collect it, I have my regular office hours this evening from 5:30 to 7:30. Room 385, just down the hall from the biomechanics labs in the east wing."

"Thank you, Sir," said Archana, as he finally made his exit with a polite nod.

She put a trembling finger to her neck, confirming her pulse was racing in a highly elevated state. Relieved to have escaped the interaction without any further embarrassment, Archana was oddly unable to get the handsome professor out of her head the entire walk back to her hostel. His first name was 'Tarak', she knew. Campus gossip among the senior batch suggested he was newly divorced, with no children, and somewhere in his late thirties. It was widely agreed among the girls that there were perhaps younger teachers on the staff, but none quite as uniquely approachable and charming. She had never felt nervous in his presence before today.

The late autumn twilight in Hyderabad was unusually crisp, and though the evening sun had barely set, Archana clouded the cool air with each heavy breath. Lingering thoughts of Professor Shekhar eagerly followed her straight through the girls' hostel foyer, and when she closed her eyes in the creaky elevator, the teacher stared right back from behind her eyelids. A familiar, throbbing warmth was growing inside her core even as she fumbled for her keys at the apartment door. Setting her heavy gym bag down loudly by the entrance, she turned the latch, kicked off her shoes, and then suddenly pricked up her ears at a faint, rhythmic sound.

Halfway down the short hall, as a closed bedroom door neared, the source of the sound quickly revealed itself—her roommate Lavanya's young boyfriend was currently fucking her as if both their lives depended on it. Such a loud occurrence wasn't exactly unusual at any hour in their room; the girl had a famously voracious appetite for sex. Archana normally did her absolute best to stay completely out of sight and earshot when they were at it, but today, for some strange reason, she lingered in the hallway to listen.

Tiptoeing closer in her bare feet, Archana cupped a hand and gently pressed her unbruised cheek against the wooden door, biting her tongue all the while. There was absolutely nothing sensual about the wild noises they made; it was a near constant, aggressive stream of grunting, panting, and overtly pornographic commentary.

And then, in a piercingly high voice that startled Archana with its sheer suddenness, Lavanya shouted, "Oh Daddy! Fuck me, Daddy!"

Between the absolute fact that the girl's local boyfriend wasn't a day over twenty-two, and the incredibly harsh tone of her fake western accent, it made for a highly, unintentionally comedic scene. Archana forcefully pursed her lips tightly shut to stifle a sudden bout of loud laughter. Daddy? Absolutely ridiculous. There were green teaching assistants at the university who were far more of a 'daddy' than that young, skinny fool inside. With any further voyeuristic enjoyment now completely spoiled by Lavanya's comical attempt at dirty talk, Archana padded quietly around the corner and retreated, chuckling softly into her own quiet bedroom.

Diving face-first onto the soft mattress, she rolled comfortably to her side after an ungraceful bounce.

Retrieving her smartphone from her track pants pocket, she saw a WhatsApp group text, already twelve messages deep, waiting on the glowing lockscreen. Archana's friend group was barrelling ahead with their proposed plans for pub-hopping in Jubilee Hills. Underneath a lingering sense of physical fatigue, some unknown, restless energy stirred deep within her. Half of her body was intensely listening to the cozy call of the bedcovers, while the other half was tempted by the loud promise of fun and frolic at the clubs with alcohol. And yet, she realized neither option was precisely what she truly wanted tonight.

What do I actually want? There was a deep craving inside her chest, something primal without a distinct name. She certainly didn't want some skinny man-child like Lavanya's brainless beau. It had to be a real man, someone who actually knew what he was doing. To be sure, she definitely didn't want absolutely anything to do with following the college rules anymore. Doing exactly what she was told all the time was no more pleasant than that brutal elbow to the face had been.

Occasionally, a college girl's life needed to be about intense short-term pleasure rather than strict long-term athletic reward. Tonight, she decided firmly, could be exactly that kind of night.

So, what do I want? She turned the glowing smartphone face down on the mattress and closed her eyes. And there he was once again to greet her mind—Tarak Shekhar, the dreamy, mature professor, with a kindly expression and... newly available. There were incredibly strict university regulations banning exactly this sort of thing between staff and students. That didn't stop it from happening entirely, of course—strict school guidelines could only be so much of a bulwark against the raging desires of dozens of hormonal young women living on campus.

Half-truths and breathless hostel stories of secret affairs or dramatic scandals were passed down every year from graduates to seniors to juniors, some of which should have certainly been enough to give Archana pause. But with each passing moment lying on her bed, she became more and more set on her risky course of action.

She wanted to see him.

She would completely prepare for a wild night of clubbing, but instead, she would stop by his room right at the close of his office hours, dressed absolutely to kill. She would make her carnal intentions crystal plain. If he prudishly turned her down, the Jubilee Hills clubs would still await her, and some other passable option would eventually present itself—a meagre alternative, sure, but enough to satisfy her raging appetites for one night at least.

There would be no real consequences regardless. Professor Shekhar was a highly smart, deeply private man, so there would absolutely be no official complaints or disciplinary reports filed. If need be, he would simply pretend her bold advance had never even happened and go right back to being an innocent, albeit incredibly hot, sports medicine instructor.

Leaping up aggressively from the messy bed, Archana tore apart her small closet to search for the perfect outfit, finally settling on a very short, lace-trimmed black dress featuring a deeply plunging neckline. A pair of dangling gold earrings would perfectly highlight the natural golden, straw-color of her highlighted hair, and—she desperately hoped—the mischievous, sexy sparkle in her eyes.

Dark black nail polish was expertly and quickly applied, and four decorative rings that contrasted nicely against her skin were slipped onto her fingers to thoroughly elevate the mature look. She intentionally kept her neck completely bare and unadorned, specifically designed to invite the physical attentions of her preferred suitor. Her absolute hottest pair of strappy black heels would perfectly complete the outfit, adding two vital inches of height, and putting her toned, athletic calves prominently on display.

Lastly, a thick, neutralizing makeup concealer skillfully covered her facial bruising before Archana quickly set about doing her eye makeup and hair, casually responding here and there to the group texts with vague, non-committal maybes. A quick glance at the wall clock brought her to her feet to quickly transfer key items—phone, keys, lip gloss—into a small black clutch purse. With one last, confident kiss directed at the mirror, Archana sashayed smoothly down the hostel hall and out the main door into the warm Hyderabad night.

The east wing of the university's sports sciences building looked essentially deserted when she confidently arrived.

Archana ducked unseen into the very first concrete stairwell she encountered. For all her projected exterior confidence, her stomach fluttered wildly with each step up as she gripped the metal handrail tightly. A lone campus janitor jockeyed a loud floor-buffing machine in the main hallway when she finally emerged on the third floor, never once lifting his tired eyes to look as she made her way confidently past the darkened biomechanics labs. His loss, she thought smugly, absolutely certain that the next man to see her dressed like this would be far more appreciative.

The heavy wooden door to room 385 was slightly ajar as she purposely slowed her pace on approach, a simple guest chair visibly empty from her present angle in the hallway. Professor Shekhar sat completely alone at his desk, concentrating intently on his glowing laptop screen, his crisp shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and a pair of sophisticated reading glasses perched low on his nose. The faculty office was highly spartan, apart from some colorful children's drawings and school photos decorating the plain white walls.

Archana exhaled a deep, steadying breath and strolled inside the office as nonchalantly as she possibly could, her high heels clicking loudly and rhythmically on the tiled floor.

"Just one moment," he mumbled distractedly, his eyes fixated on a text document onscreen, and with one last loud keystroke, he saved his work. The look he gave her as he finally turned in the squeaky office chair was a wild mixture of utter confusion and delayed half-recognition, swiftly followed by a slight gaping of his mouth. Professor Shekhar then slowly removed his spectacles and set them down on the desk without uttering a single word.

Archana smiled a broadening, highly suggestive smile and gave a playful toss of her hair. "I'm not too late, am I?"

"Miss Archana!" he finally managed to say, his dark eyes wide and blinking rapidly in shock. The office chair squeaked loudly as his weight shifted awkwardly in the seat. "Your textbook... it's right here on the desk." Professor Shekhar reached out a hand to awkwardly pat the front cover with his palm.

He smiled back at her as best as he could manage, nervously clearing his throat.

"Thank you so much, Sir," said Archana, deliberately sweetening her words with a sultry tone. She could physically feel his stunned gaze struggling to keep focused on her eyes, while his tanned skin reddened deeply, just as hers had done in the hallway earlier. I've absolutely got him, she thought triumphantly. Archana could easily recognize the distinct look when a man was thoroughly sizing her up. Older men were typically far more subtle about it, but then perhaps poor Tarak was simply out of practice. Perhaps he hadn't yet been with anyone else since splitting with his wife? The mere possibility of taking his post-divorce virginity filled her with a powerful, lustful intent.

Clearly trying hard to smooth over his visible awkwardness, Professor Shekhar pointed a shaking finger at Archana's face and beamed artificially. "It's an absolute marvel what you ladies can do with makeup nowadays!" He paused briefly and nervously cleared his throat yet again. "To completely cover the bruise, I mean."

I think it's finally time to put this poor man out of his misery. Archana grabbed the heavy office door without once breaking intense eye contact and slowly pushed it entirely shut, turning the metal lock with a loud, definitive click.

Professor Shekhar looked completely at a loss; she gave him absolutely no chance to formulate a reaction, stepping forward boldly and tossing her clutch purse carelessly atop the thick textbook. Staring down deeply at him sitting in his chair, she deliberately placed a manicured hand on her bare neck and languidly slid her fingertips down her collarbone, straight to the exposed cleft between her breasts.

"Miss Archana," he said, failing entirely to deepen his shaky tone of voice. "We really shou—"

"Archana," she corrected him firmly, her voice thick with lust. "My name is just Archana."

"Archana... this isn't..."

"Isn't what?" she asked him, utterly fearless. "Isn't right? Against the strict university rules? I need this. You need this too, I can see that already. The only real question is, how bad do you want this?"

One finger toyed sensually at a lacey top edge of her black dress, tugging at it gently, heavily hinting at the promise of what lay bare beneath the fabric.

Professor Shekhar's eyes were now locked completely on hers, heavily dilated, dark, and intense, his broad chest rising and falling in rapid, steady breaths. He was thoroughly rattled, but clearly unafraid. An initial expression of professional wariness was very soon replaced by something far more akin to feral hunger; Archana almost drew back in surprise when he forcefully pushed out his chair and lifted himself to his feet to tower intimidatingly over her petite frame. Even wearing the tall heels, she barely reached the height of his strong chin.

They stood a mere arm's length apart for a highly tense, breathless moment, until he suddenly reached out for her right triceps and closed a large hand firmly around it. His touch felt hot and slightly clammy, but extremely firm, much stronger than she had previously imagined. "I really should..." he started softly, trailing off completely without finishing the thought.

"Should what?" she taunted softly, making absolutely no attempt to resist his dominant grip on her arm. Professor Shekhar leaned down very slowly until his handsome face loomed mere inches away from hers, his eyes now steely and unflinching.

And then, finally, his lips were forcefully on hers—hot, wet, and demanding, but surprisingly tender at the exact same time. Archana swayed weakly into his hard body while the deep kiss intensified, and the large hand that had held her arm let go to drift possessively to the small of her back. She met his hungry embrace eagerly, pressing her breasts tight to his chest and wrapping her hands tightly around his broad shoulders.

The small office was completely silent apart from their heavy, shared breathing and the occasional wet murmur that escaped the tight seal of their locked lips. Archana suddenly sensed herself being shuffled forcefully backwards across the room, until her thighs came up hard against the cold metal handle of a low, wide filing cabinet. Professor Shekhar's hands glided eagerly over her shapely behind, squeezing her flesh hard once, then disappearing entirely under the short skirt.

She giggled softly into his warm mouth as his fingers found the thin band of her underwear and pulled downward in one swift, aggressive motion, sending the tiny black panties straight past her knees.

No sooner had she kicked one foot entirely out of the discarded g-string than the muscled teacher broke the intense kiss and lifted her effortlessly by the waist directly onto the cold top of the filing cabinet. He smiled a wicked smile as he rapidly tore at his leather belt and untucked his neat shirt from his trousers, then leaned heavily into her spread thighs and resumed the deep, wet kiss. Archana moaned loudly and instinctively wrapped her bare legs tight around his hips to draw him even closer, her heart rate spiking dangerously high. He felt incredibly hot to the touch, positively burning with suppressed passion, and she was already so dripping wet between her legs there was absolutely no need for any extended foreplay.

It seemed that he completely shared her desperate desire to get on with things without delay, reaching down quickly to lower his boxers.

Dragging her forward firmly by the hips to the very edge of the metal cabinet, he guided his hard erection with his other hand, sliding the thick head of his cock over her wet, swollen pussy lips to rest momentarily against her flat stomach. Then, with a slight shifting of his wide stance, his cockhead found the exact right angle, and he thrust deeply inside her—once, twice, and a third brutal time, fully claiming her warm, slick recesses. Archana let out a sharp gasp, her legs flinging out wide to each side in pure physical reaction.

Professor Shekhar put a gentle palm on her wounded cheek and began pumping his hips rhythmically, resting his sweaty forehead intimately against hers. Despite a feral part of her desperately wanting him to just fuck her harder, the highly unexpected tenderness and intimacy he showed in that moment was deeply welcome.

The bottom-heavy cabinet thumped loudly and rhythmically against the office wall, but neither of them showed any care at all, nor any wish to slow down their frantic pace. Archana's tight pussy clamped down hard on his shaft as she neared her first intense climax.

She held back a loud scream, riding down from a dizzying, blinding high, only to immediately begin building up the intense tension all over again straight away. As she shuddered violently in anticipation of yet another orgasm, Professor Shekhar grinned contentedly down at her flushed face. "You're a good girl, aren't you?"

"Ahhh, yesssss," she hissed passionately through her gritted teeth, then let out a guttural, dirty groan as she came forcefully once more.

"You want me to slow down for you, baby?" he asked, his voice thick between heavy breaths. He clearly had absolutely no intention of actually slowing down; the dirty question was designed purely to drive her on further into madness.

"Noooooo. God, please don't stop!"

"Good girl." The relentless, wet hammering continued apace until Archana's vision literally began tunneling in at the edges, and a massive third climax powerfully arrived. Mercifully, Professor Shekhar finally ceased the brutal movement in his hips and simply drank in the gorgeous sight of her, panting, sweating, and smiling up at him.

The slow kiss he then gave her was as deeply soulful as any she had ever experienced in her young life, and filled with a profound gratitude. Many more soft, wet kisses swiftly followed as they caught their breath together.

After a few quiet minutes of intimate canoodling, something highly obvious occurred to her. "Did you even cum yet?" Archana asked, her eyes batting innocently.

Professor Shekhar slowly shook his head, a dark look returning to his eyes. "Not yet. I need to... I want to take you from behind."

They exchanged knowing smiles until both of them moved in smooth unison to find their feet on the floor. Archana pressed one hand flat against the top of the filing cabinet and confidently presented her partially bared, round ass with the other hand. The horny professor required absolutely no further encouragement; he quickly positioned himself behind her, caressing her toned thighs and nudging her shaking legs further apart. After a few agonizingly teasing passes of his tip along her dripping wet folds, he pushed his thick cock deep inside her and moaned loudly.

Archana's voice caught sharply in her throat, a massive wave of fresh pleasure washing completely over her.

Their initial frantic round atop the cabinet had almost felt like passionate lovemaking—that was absolutely not the case now. Professor Shekhar pounded into Archana from behind with a wild, reckless abandon, and the locked wooden office door would have accomplished absolutely nothing if anyone had been listening in the hallway outside. She planted her bare feet firmly on the cold floor tiles and took the hard, punishing fucking with all her available athletic strength, thoroughly entranced by the savage, animalistic noises he made. In a passionate, sweating fever, she craned her head back to look up at him. "Your wife didn't let you have sex with her like this... did she?"

He gave a dark sound that was somewhere between a bitter laugh and a feral growl. "No," he answered bluntly, putting a large hand firmly around her throat.

From then on, the brutal fucking grew totally relentless, the loud slapping sound of his hips slamming into her ass becoming increasingly obscene.

Archana's ears were actively ringing when he hoarsely announced that he was incredibly close, and she was already cumming intensely by the time he finally unloaded thick, warm spurts of semen deep inside her walls. Shivering weakly on her elbows against the cabinet top, she let out a long, contented groan when he leaned heavily over her back and held her tight from behind, softly kissing the sweaty nape of her neck.

A pair of staff washrooms were thankfully a very short dash down the hallway, and some while later the two of them stood fully dressed in the office, sharing a warm, lingering hug. Archana was never particularly comfortable making awkward post-coital conversation, but Professor Shekhar graciously spared her the need to start talking first.

"At the risk of being highly presumptuous, I really don't want this to be a one-off occurrence, Archana."

"Me neither," she agreed happily, with a massive grin.

"I want to see you again—and properly next time. Definitely not during my office hours."

Archana nodded eagerly and had him carefully read his personal number aloud so she could program it directly into her phone under the discreet initials 'TS'. After one final, lingering kiss by the door, and having politely refused his gentlemanly offer of a warm sweater, she made her stealthy way out of the dark sports building. She scarcely felt the cool evening chill of the Hyderabad air, radiating intensely from the glowing heat deep inside her belly.

The loud, crowded Jubilee Hills pubs could wait for another night entirely. Today had definitively been about exploring unforeseen, thrilling possibilities. Somehow, she instinctively knew, long after the ugly bruise on her cheek finally healed, the incredible physical impact this man had on her would still be profoundly there.

There was definitely something deeply special to what Archana saw in this older man, though it was still quite hard to put an exact label on it just yet. Walking back to the hostel, she was incredibly keen to discover a lot more.