**Disclaimer:**
All characters in this story are 18 years of age or older. This is a work of pure adult fiction intended for mature readers only.
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Rohit licked me clean with the same quiet devotion he had shown from the beginning.
His tongue moved slowly over the soaked, transparent thong, gathering every trace of my release that had seeped through the thin fabric. Soft, wet sounds filled the locked classroom as he dragged his tongue up and down, careful and thorough, until the worst of the wetness was gone. Only when he was satisfied did he ease back slightly, lips still shiny, breathing uneven.
I didn't let him go far.
My fingers slid into his hair, gripped lightly, and pulled his head forward again until his face rested once more between my open thighs. I held him there, not forcing, just keeping him close, while my other hand stroked slowly through his dark hair. The gesture was almost gentle—almost possessive.
"This stays between us," I said quietly. My voice was still a little unsteady from the orgasm, but the authority in it was clear. "No one can ever know. Not a single word. Do you understand me, Rohit?"
He nodded against my thigh, the movement small and immediate. "Yes, Ma'am… I swear."
I continued stroking his hair in slow, idle passes, feeling the warmth of his breath against the damp fabric of the thong. For a few seconds neither of us spoke. The only sounds were our breathing and the faint hum of the ceiling fan.
Then Rohit's voice came, low and hesitant, almost muffled against my skin.
"Ma'am… can I… ask for something?"
I looked down at him. "What?"
He swallowed. His ears were red. "Your… underarms. I've been smelling them a little every time you lift your arms. They're… warm. And after the morning, there's a little sweat. I… I want to smell them properly. Please."
A slow, mischievous smile curved my lips.
I didn't answer right away. I let the silence stretch, watching the way his shoulders tensed with hope and fear. Then I raised one arm, resting it loosely behind my head so that the sleeveless kurti gaped open at the side, exposing the soft, slightly damp hollow of my underarm. The faint, warm scent of my skin and light sweat drifted in the still air.
"You really have a thing for how women smell, don't you?" I teased softly. "Feet… and now this. How long have you been thinking about putting your face here?"
Rohit's breath hitched. He didn't deny it.
I watched him for another long second, then gave a small, almost lazy nod.
"Come."
He surged forward like a man who had been granted something sacred. His face pressed into the opening of my kurti, nose and mouth buried against the warm, soft skin of my underarm. A deep, shuddering inhale left him. Then another. He nuzzled gently, breathing me in with open hunger, the tip of his nose brushing the sensitive skin. A quiet, broken sound of pure pleasure escaped his throat.
While his face was still buried there, words began to spill out of him—raw, unfiltered, and shaking with emotion.
"I've been in love with you for so long, Ma'am… longer than I should have been. I watch you every day. The way you walk, the way you smell when you pass my bench after lunch, the little bit of sweat on your neck when the fan stops working… I dream about tasting all of it. Your feet, your underarms, everything. I know I'm just your student. I know I shouldn't. But I can't stop. I don't want to stop."
His confession vibrated against my skin. I felt the truth of it in every trembling breath he took.
I let him stay there a little longer, fingers still moving slowly through his hair, before I gently guided his head back down between my thighs.
"Show me how much you mean it," I whispered. "Lick."
Rohit obeyed at once.
His mouth returned to the transparent thong, tongue dragging over the thin, still-damp fabric in long, eager strokes. The earlier orgasm had left me extremely sensitive. Every lick sent sharp sparks of pleasure through my core. Soft moans started slipping from my lips again almost immediately.
"Aahh… yes… just like that… mmmhh…"
I kept one hand in his hair, guiding the pace without words—sometimes holding him firmly against my clit, sometimes letting him lick lower. My breathing grew heavier. My hips began to roll in small, helpless circles against his mouth. The wet sounds of his tongue working over the soaked thong filled the room once more.
Pleasure built faster this time. My thighs trembled. My free hand gripped the edge of the desk hard.
"Rohit… aahh… I'm getting close again… don't stop… fuck… don't—"
A sharp knock on the classroom door cut through the haze.
Both of us froze.
Ratna's voice came from the other side, urgent but careful.
"Shalini Madam… Principal Madam school aa rahi hain. Unki gaadi gate ke bahar hai. Jaldi."
Ice flooded my veins.
I shoved Rohit's head back, stood up on slightly unsteady legs, and began fixing myself with frantic speed—pulling the kurti straight, adjusting the tiny bra, smoothing the white leggings as best as I could over the torn crotch and soaked thong. My hands were trembling.
I went to the door but did not open it fully. Speaking through the narrow gap, I kept my voice low and controlled.
"Ratna, jaake main gate khol do Principal Madam ke liye. Main abhi aa rahi hoon."
"Theek hai, Madam."
I listened until I heard her footsteps hurrying away down the corridor, heading toward the main entrance.
Only then did I turn back to Rohit. He was still on his knees, lips wet, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and lingering hunger.
I spoke quickly, quietly, and firmly.
"Listen carefully. The back gate is still open—the same one I used this morning. Go out through there right now. Wait a few minutes. After Principal Madam has entered the school from the front, come back in normally through the main gate like any other student. Do you understand?"
Rohit nodded at once. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Go. Now."
He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and slipped out of the classroom without another word. I watched him disappear down the corridor toward the back of the school, heart still hammering.
Only when I was certain he was gone did I take a deep breath, smooth my clothes one last time, and step out into the corridor—just another teacher who had simply arrived early.
But between my legs, the transparent thong was still wet.
And the taste of power and danger lingered on my tongue far more strongly than any confession Rohit had whispered into my skin.