Today, 10:38 AM
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a stark contrast to the silence pressing down on the deserted hallway. Heena rubbed her temples, the scratch of pen on paper still echoing in her skull. "God, these answers," she muttered to the empty corridor. "Did half these kids even attend lectures?"
Back in her cramped office, she slumped into her chair. Stacks of biology exams covered her desk like a paper avalanche. She unscrewed her metal water bottle—the sharp, clean scent of vodka cutting through the stale office air. A long sip burned its way down her throat. The tension in her shoulders eased, just a fraction. Scoring papers was torture. Teaching? That was her joy. Watching minds click, questions sparking in eager eyes. But this? This was burial duty.
Outside, the campus felt hollow. Sunset bled orange through the grimy windows, painting long shadows where students usually clustered. Finals week had bled everyone dry. Even the janitors had vanished. Heena stretched, spine cracking in protest. Her gaze drifted to the last ten answer booklets. One had a doodle of a dissected frog wearing sunglasses. She snorted. "Priorities, kid."
The vodka hummed softly in her veins as she pushed back from the desk. Her legs felt stiff, restless. "Need air," she announced to the empty room. The hallway swallowed her footsteps as she wandered, bottle still in hand. Past locked lecture halls, past the empty bio lab with its preserved specimens floating like ghosts in jars. The quiet felt thick, unnerving. She paused by a window overlooking the quad. Dead leaves skittered across concrete. For a moment, she just stood there, the cold metal of the bottle pressing into her palm.
A faint sound broke the silence. Not a click, not a shuffle. A whisper. It came from the closed door of a classroom, Heena frowned. Everyone was supposed to be gone. She took another deliberate sip, the vodka sharpening her focus. Curiosity prickled, cutting through the tipsy haze. She moved silently toward the doorway, her flats scuffing lightly on the concrete floor.
Inside, the room was dim, lit only by the fading twilight through the tall windows. Dust motes danced in the slanted light. And there, on the very last bench, tucked into the deepest shadow, were two figures. A boy and a girl, eighteen, maybe nineteen, frozen mid-motion. The boy had his arm around the girl’s shoulders; she was leaning into him. Their textbook lay forgotten, splayed open on the bench. They stared at Heena, wide-eyed, like startled deer caught in headlights. The girl’s hand flew to her mouth. The boy instinctively removing his hand, his expression shifting from shock to a defensive wariness.
Heena leaned against the doorframe, the cool metal of her bottle grounding her. She recognized them vaguely – faces from her Intro to biology lectures, Rohan and Priya. "College is closed," she stated, her voice calm but carrying easily in the hushed room. The vodka’s warmth made her words softer than she intended, less like a reprimand. She saw the girl flinch, saw the boy’s jaw tighten. They hadn’t been whispering sweet nothings. There was a tension here, a raw edge beneath the surface panic. "What," Heena asked, her gaze sweeping over their rigid posture and the scattered books, "were you two doing?" She kept her tone deliberately neutral, almost conversational. The girl swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the textbook beside her before meeting Heena’s. "Studying, Professor," she blurted out, her voice thin and too high. "Just... studying." Her knuckles were white where she gripped the bench edge.
Heena’s eyes narrowed slightly. She pushed off the doorframe and took two deliberate steps into the room. The air felt thick, charged. She bent down, her fingers brushing the worn cover of the open textbook the girl had been leaning on. The pages fell open to a familiar, detailed diagram. A slow, knowing smile touched Heena’s lips, devoid of amusement. "Ah," she murmured. She lifted the book, her gaze fixed on the page. The silence stretched, taut, as she scanned the text. Then, her voice clear and crisp, cutting through the twilight gloom, she began to read aloud. "Chapter Seven: Human Reproduction"
The boy flushed crimson, looking down at his shoes. The girl stared at Heena, her expression a mix of terror and embarrassment. Heena paused, lowering the book slightly. Her eyes, sharp despite the vodka, locked onto theirs. The diagram seemed to pulse between them. "Interesting choice for a clandestine study session," she remarked, her voice deceptively light. She let the implication hang, heavy in the dusty air. The fluorescent lights in the hallway outside flyickered, casting long, shifting shadows across the frozen scene.
Heena’s gaze softened unexpectedly as she studied them. The boy had sharp, intelligent eyes beneath his flustered expression, and the girl possessed a delicate beauty, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her face. They looked achingly young, earnest, and painfully vulnerable in their panic. A sudden, sharp memory pierced Heena’s tipsy haze – herself at nineteen, tangled in a library carrel with her first serious boyfriend, whispering frantic excuses to a passing professor. The rush of that shared secret, the clumsy fumbling, the overwhelming intensity of young love. She saw the ghost of her own past reflected in their wide, startled eyes. The stern professor mask slipped for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of wistful recognition.
She leaned back against the teacher’s desk nearby, the metal of her bottle cool against her palm. Her voice, when she spoke again, had lost its edge, replaced by a quiet curiosity tinged with the vodka’s warmth. She nodded towards the open book still in her hand, then looked directly at the boy. "So," she asked, her tone almost conversational, "what were you learning? Specifically?" Her eyes flicked pointedly to the detailed anatomical illustration of the female reproductive system splayed across the page. A slow, knowing smile touched her lips, not unkind, but undeniably perceptive. "Oh," she murmured, the word drawn out slightly, "the female reproductive organs. How... fundamental."
The boy opened his mouth, closed it, then stammered, "We... we were revising for the retake, Professor. Next week. Chapter Seven." His voice cracked. The girl remained silent, shrinking into herself, her cheeks burning. Heena took a small, deliberate sip from her bottle, the quiet clink of metal echoing loudly. She watched them over the rim, her expression unreadable now. The twilight deepened outside, turning the classroom into a dim, intimate cave. The diagram seemed to glow under her scrutiny. "Revision," Heena repeated softly. "Practical application is often the best teacher, wouldn’t you agree?" She let the question linger, watching the implications dawn on their faces.
Heena’s gaze sharpened, locking onto the boy. The vodka hummed, loosening her usual restraint, making her bold. "Tell me," she asked, her voice low and direct, cutting through the tension like a scalpel. "Have you ever actually seen one? A vagina? In real life, I mean. Not just diagrams"
The boy’s eyes widened impossibly. He looked utterly stricken, caught between horror and the desperate urge to answer his professor. His mouth worked soundlessly for a second before a strangled, "Uh... just... just in porno, Professor," escaped him, barely audible. He immediately flushed a deeper crimson, unable to meet her eyes, his gaze darting to the floor as if seeking escape.
The girl beside him didn't just flinch; she whipped her head around to stare at him. Her dark eyes, wide with mortification just moments before, now blazed with pure, incandescent fury. It was a death stare sharp enough to flay skin, radiating utter betrayal and disbelief. Her lips pressed into a thin, white line, her entire body rigid with outrage. The silent accusation screamed louder than any words: You absolute idiot!
A sudden, sharp bark of laughter escaped Heena. It wasn't mocking, but genuinely startled, rich and warm, filling the shadowed classroom. The vodka’s warmth surged through her, dissolving the last shreds of professional distance. "Oh, dear," she chuckled, shaking her head slightly, her eyes dancing with unexpected amusement. "Well, that’s honest, I suppose." She leaned back against the desk, the metal cool against her hip. The absurdity of the situation, the raw teenage embarrassment, the girl’s volcanic glare – it all collided with the alcohol in her veins, making her feel strangely, openly alive in the deserted college gloom. Heena pushed herself off the desk, her movements fluid, almost languid. She walked slowly towards the bench where they sat frozen. "Such... enthusiasm for learning," she murmured, her tone shifting, becoming lower, more deliberate. She stopped right before them, her shadow falling across their laps. A slow, deliberate smile curved her lips – not cruel, but intensely focused, almost pedagogical. "It’s rare. Commendable, really." She held out her metal water bottle towards the boy. "Here," she said, her voice crisp. "Take a sip. Calm your nerves. You look like you’ve seen a ghost." He hesitated, stunned, then took the bottle with trembling hands. Heena didn’t watch him drink. Her gaze was already fixed on the terrified girl, then back to him, assessing. "Since you’re both so... dedicated to understanding Chapter Seven," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial near-whisper, "perhaps a practical demonstration would solidify the theory?" She didn't wait for an answer.
Turning, Heena walked to the bench directly opposite theirs, just a few feet away. The wood groaned softly as she sat down, smoothing her sari beneath her. The fading twilight painted her face in soft greys and blues. Without preamble, without hesitation fueled by the vodka’s boldness, she removed the pallu ( end of a sari, used to cover the blouse) from her blouse, gathered the folds of her sari on her waist, Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her simple white cotton panties. In one smooth motion, she slid them down her thighs, past her knees, and off her ankles, letting them pool on the dusty floor beside the bench. She shifted slightly, almost nude, just in her cotton blouse, settling back, and deliberately parted her legs, knees bent, feet planted firmly on the floor. The dim light fell directly onto her exposed vulva.
"See this here?" Heena stated, her voice utterly calm, clinical, yet charged with an undeniable intensity. Her index finger rested lightly, precisely, on the small, hooded peak just above her vaginal opening. Her eyes locked onto theirs, demanding their attention. "This is the clitoris. Primary source of female sexual pleasure." Her finger moved downwards, tracing the inner folds. "Labia minora... labia majora..." She named each structure with detached precision, her finger a pointer against her own flesh. Then, using her thumb and forefinger, she gently parted her inner lips wider, exposing the darker pink interior. "The vaginal opening." Her gaze remained fixed on their stunned faces, especially the girl’s, whose fury had been replaced by sheer, disbelieving shock. Heena’s fingers moved deeper, stretching herself slightly. "And deep inside," she murmured, her voice dropping lower, "if conditions were optimal... you might glimpse the cervix. The gateway." She held the position for a long, silent moment, letting the anatomy lesson sink in, her own body the textbook. The air crackled.
The girl finally tore her gaze away from Heena’s exposed anatomy, her eyes wide as saucers. Her voice, when it came, was a breathless, trembling whisper, cutting through the thick silence. "It’s... it’s slightly different," she stammered, her face flushed crimson. "From... from mine."
Heena tilted her head, her expression shifting from clinical detachment to genuine curiosity. "How so?" she asked softly, her finger still resting near her own opening. Without a word, driven by a sudden, impulsive surge of courage – or perhaps sheer, overwhelming panic – the girl scrambled to her feet. Her hands fumbled at the hem of her knee-length blue skirt. She lifted it, bunching the fabric high around her waist, exposing herself fully to the dim light. Her legs were bare, trembling slightly. There were no panties. Only a glimpse of dark cotton crumpled on the floor beneath the bench where she’d been sitting.
Heena leaned forward intently, her professor’s instincts overriding everything else. Her eyes scanned the girl’s exposed vulva with focused precision. "Ah, yes," she murmured, her voice low and thoughtful. "Variation. Perfectly normal." She pointed gently towards the girl’s inner folds. "See how your labia minora extend slightly more? Very common." Her gaze sharpened slightly, noting a subtle detail. "And your hymen," she added, her tone matter-of-fact, "intact, crescent-shaped. Also perfectly normal." She leaned back slightly, offering a small, reassuring nod. "Anatomy isn't uniform. It’s beautifully diverse."
Her attention snapped to the boy, who was staring, transfixed, his face flushed. "Clear?" Heena asked crisply. "Any doubts?" The boy blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if waking from a dream. "All clear, Professor," he stammered, his voice thick with disbelief and awe. Heena didn't hesitate. She rose smoothly from her bench and moved to theirs, settling herself directly between them on the worn wood. The girl instinctively scooted aside, her skirt still bunched awkwardly around her waist. Heena spread her legs wide once more, her bare thighs pressing against the cool bench surface. "Good," she stated, her gaze locking onto the boy. "Now. Name them. Point to each structure you see."
The boy swallowed hard, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out. His index finger brushed hesitantly against Heena’s outer folds. "L-labia majora," he managed. His finger moved inward, tracing the softer skin. "Labia minora." He paused, hovering near the apex. "And... that’s the... urethra?" His uncertainty was palpable.
"No Rohan!" The girl’s voice cut through sharply, her earlier fury replaced by intense focus. Before Heena could react, the girl’s hand darted forward. Her fingers, surprisingly steady, parted Heena’s folds wider, her touch firm and purposeful. Her fingertip landed precisely on the small, hooded nub. "This is the clitoris," she corrected, her voice surprisingly authoritative. Her finger slid downwards, stopping just below. "That," she emphasized, tapping lightly near the tiny opening nestled within the folds, "is the urethra. The vaginal opening is deeper." Her dark eyes flicked up to meet Heena’s, searching for confirmation, her own embarrassment momentarily forgotten in the intensity of the correction. Heena simply watched her, a slow, approving smile spreading across her lips.
Heena leaned back slightly, breaking the intense focus. Her gaze swept over both students, sharp despite the lingering vodka haze. "Well," she remarked, her voice crisp and carrying the unmistakable tone of a professor concluding a point, "human reproduction is incomplete without the male reproductive organs." Her eyes locked onto the boy, who was still flushed and wide-eyed. "Remove your trousers," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for hesitation. It wasn't a request; it was the next step in the lesson.
The boy froze for a heartbeat, his eyes darting between Heena’s expectant gaze and the girl beside him, who watched with a strange mixture of apprehension and intense curiosity. Slowly, shakily, he stood. His fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, then the button and zip of his blue trousers. The trousers slid down his hips, pooling around his ankles. He hesitated only a second before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pushing them down too. He stood naked before them, his skin pale in the twilight, his flaccid penis resting against his thigh. He looked utterly vulnerable, exposed under the dual scrutiny of his professor and his companion.
"Sit on the desk," Heena directed. Her voice was calm, clinical. The boy obeyed, scrambling awkwardly onto the polished surface, his bare skin making a soft sound against the wood. He sat perched, legs dangling, his hands instinctively trying to cover himself before he forced them to rest on his knees. Heena approached him, her steps measured. She stopped directly in front of him, her gaze dropping pointedly. "Now," she stated, her finger lifting to indicate his exposed genitalia. Her voice was clear, precise. "Name the different parts. Starting here." Her fingertip hovered near the base of his flaccid penis. "The root." She moved upwards slightly. "The shaft." Her finger traced upwards again, stopping near the tip. "The glans." Her eyes lifted to meet his, demanding his full attention. "And these?" She gestured towards the loose sac beneath. The boy swallowed. "Scrotum," he whispered. "And... testes inside." His voice trembled. Heena nodded curtly. "Correct." Her gaze shifted to the girl, who was staring intently at the boy's exposed penis. "Notice," Heena began, her tone clinical yet charged, "how flaccid now." Her finger tapped the shaft lightly. "But this changes dramatically with arousal. Blood fills the erectile tissues." She leaned closer, her breath warm. Her thumb and forefinger grasped the loose foreskin near the tip. With practiced ease, she retracted it fully, exposing the smooth, pink glans beneath. The boy gasped, his body tensing. "See the corona?" Heena pointed to the ridge. "Highly sensitive."
She straightened, her eyes locking onto the girl's fascinated stare. "The most effective way to induce erection," Heena stated matter-of-factly, "is oral stimulation." Without preamble, she bent forward. Her lips parted, enveloping the flaccid head. She sucked firmly, creating a tight seal, her tongue swirling deliberately over the exposed glans. A low groan escaped the boy. His hips jerked involuntarily as warmth flooded the tissue, the shaft visibly thickening under her ministrations. Heena pulled back briefly, saliva glistening. "Deep, rhythmic suction," she instructed the air, her gaze fixed on the girl. "Gentle licks here..." Her tongue flicked the frenulum beneath the head. "...are crucial."
The girl’s lips were parted, her breathing shallow. She unconsciously licked her own lips, her eyes glued to Heena’s mouth working the now-half-erect penis. Heena released him with a soft pop. The penis stood partially engorged, glistening. "Your turn," Heena commanded the girl, her voice low. "Do exactly as I did. Focus on the head." She stepped aside. The girl hesitated only a second. Driven by a potent mix of curiosity and instruction, she slid off the bench and knelt before the boy. Her hands trembled as she grasped his shaft, still slick from Heena’s saliva. She leaned in, mimicking Heena’s motion, taking the swollen glans into her mouth. She sucked hard, experimentally, her tongue pressing against the sensitive ridge.
"Careful," Heena warned sharply, leaning over her shoulder. "No teeth. It's fragile tissue." She guided the girl’s head gently. "Softer suction... now use your tongue flatly." The girl adjusted, her movements becoming more confident. She sucked rhythmically, her tongue massaging the underside of the head as Heena had demonstrated. The boy’s breath hitched; his penis surged to full, rigid erection in her mouth, pulsing against her tongue. The girl’s eyes widened in surprise at the sudden hardness filling her mouth, but she didn’t pull away. She kept sucking, her gaze flicking up to meet Heena’s watchful, approving eyes.
The Rohan's hips bucked involuntarily. "Outch!" he yelped. Priya froze instantly, pulling back with a wet gasp, her lips slick. "Professor, Priya’s... not doing it properly." He gestured toward his throbbing erection, a twinkle in his eyes, "Please..." His voice cracked with need. "...show her again?"
Heena’s gaze sharpened. She knelt beside Priya, her sari pooling around her. "Watch closely," she instructed, her voice low and deliberate. She grasped the base of his shaft firmly. Leaning in, she took the entire glans into her mouth, her lips forming a tight seal. Her tongue flattened against the frenulum, applying steady, rhythmic pressure. "Slow suction," she murmured around him, her voice vibrating against his sensitive skin. "Gentle... constant..." She pulled back slightly, swirling her tongue over the corona. "No sudden movements." She demonstrated again, her head bobbing slowly, deeply, her hand stroking the base in tandem. The boy groaned, his thighs trembling. "See?" Heena released him, saliva stringing between her lips and his glistening tip. "Rhythm and pressure. Not force."
Priya nodded, her eyes dark with intense focus. She leaned forward again, mimicking Heena’s exact motions – the slow, deep take, the flat-tongued massage, the rhythmic suction. Her movements were smoother now, more assured. The boy’s strained expression melted into pure relief. "Yes... like that..." he breathed, his head falling back. "Perfect." Priya’s confidence visibly grew. She increased her pace slightly, her hand mirroring Heena’s earlier stroke, working the shaft while her mouth focused relentlessly on the swollen head. A low, guttural moan escaped the boy, his fingers tangling in Priya’s hair as his hips pushed gently against her mouth. Heena watched, a satisfied, almost predatory gleam in her eyes. The classroom air thickened with the slick sounds of Priya’s efforts and the boy’s ragged breathing. Outside, twilight deepened into full night, the deserted college swallowed by shadows.
Heena’s gaze snapped to the boy’s face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth slack, his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. A deep, shuddering groan ripped from his throat. "He’s close," Heena murmured, her voice low and urgent, she nudged Priya aside. Priya pulled back, startled, her lips wet and glistening. Heena leaned in, taking the entire throbbing length deep into her mouth just as the boy’s hips jerked violently upwards. A choked cry tore from him. Heena’s head bobbed firmly, her throat working as she swallowed the first thick pulses. The boy shuddered, gasping, his body convulsing under the relentless suction. Priya watched, transfixed, as Heena held him deep, her cheeks hollowing, until the final tremors subsided.
Heena pulled back slowly, her lips releasing him with a soft, wet sound. She held her mouth closed for a moment, her expression utterly composed. Then, deliberately, she spat a thick, viscous stream of milky-white semen onto her open palm. She held it out towards Priya, her gaze sharp and instructive. "This," Heena stated, her voice crisp and clinical, cutting through the boy’s panting breaths, "is semen. The essential fluid. Contains millions of spermatozoa." The substance pooled in her palm, glistening faintly in the dim light filtering from the hallway. Priya stared, wide-eyed, fascination twisting her features. She leaned closer, her nose wrinkling slightly at the faint, musky scent.
Without hesitation, driven by a sudden, overwhelming curiosity, Priya dipped her head. Her tongue darted out, quick and tentative, licking the semen from Heena’s palm. She pulled back, her expression thoughtful, almost analytical. She swallowed. "Salty," Priya murmured, her voice hushed but clear. Her dark eyes met Heena’s, filled with a strange blend of scientific detachment and dawning understanding. "And... warm." She licked her lips thoughtfully, tasting the residue. The boy stared at them both, utterly spent and bewildered, his erection softening rapidly against his thigh. Heena watched Priya, a slow, approving smile spreading across her face. The lesson was far from over.
"Let's take a small break," Heena announced.
Back in her cramped office, she slumped into her chair. Stacks of biology exams covered her desk like a paper avalanche. She unscrewed her metal water bottle—the sharp, clean scent of vodka cutting through the stale office air. A long sip burned its way down her throat. The tension in her shoulders eased, just a fraction. Scoring papers was torture. Teaching? That was her joy. Watching minds click, questions sparking in eager eyes. But this? This was burial duty.
Outside, the campus felt hollow. Sunset bled orange through the grimy windows, painting long shadows where students usually clustered. Finals week had bled everyone dry. Even the janitors had vanished. Heena stretched, spine cracking in protest. Her gaze drifted to the last ten answer booklets. One had a doodle of a dissected frog wearing sunglasses. She snorted. "Priorities, kid."
The vodka hummed softly in her veins as she pushed back from the desk. Her legs felt stiff, restless. "Need air," she announced to the empty room. The hallway swallowed her footsteps as she wandered, bottle still in hand. Past locked lecture halls, past the empty bio lab with its preserved specimens floating like ghosts in jars. The quiet felt thick, unnerving. She paused by a window overlooking the quad. Dead leaves skittered across concrete. For a moment, she just stood there, the cold metal of the bottle pressing into her palm.
A faint sound broke the silence. Not a click, not a shuffle. A whisper. It came from the closed door of a classroom, Heena frowned. Everyone was supposed to be gone. She took another deliberate sip, the vodka sharpening her focus. Curiosity prickled, cutting through the tipsy haze. She moved silently toward the doorway, her flats scuffing lightly on the concrete floor.
Inside, the room was dim, lit only by the fading twilight through the tall windows. Dust motes danced in the slanted light. And there, on the very last bench, tucked into the deepest shadow, were two figures. A boy and a girl, eighteen, maybe nineteen, frozen mid-motion. The boy had his arm around the girl’s shoulders; she was leaning into him. Their textbook lay forgotten, splayed open on the bench. They stared at Heena, wide-eyed, like startled deer caught in headlights. The girl’s hand flew to her mouth. The boy instinctively removing his hand, his expression shifting from shock to a defensive wariness.
Heena leaned against the doorframe, the cool metal of her bottle grounding her. She recognized them vaguely – faces from her Intro to biology lectures, Rohan and Priya. "College is closed," she stated, her voice calm but carrying easily in the hushed room. The vodka’s warmth made her words softer than she intended, less like a reprimand. She saw the girl flinch, saw the boy’s jaw tighten. They hadn’t been whispering sweet nothings. There was a tension here, a raw edge beneath the surface panic. "What," Heena asked, her gaze sweeping over their rigid posture and the scattered books, "were you two doing?" She kept her tone deliberately neutral, almost conversational. The girl swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the textbook beside her before meeting Heena’s. "Studying, Professor," she blurted out, her voice thin and too high. "Just... studying." Her knuckles were white where she gripped the bench edge.
Heena’s eyes narrowed slightly. She pushed off the doorframe and took two deliberate steps into the room. The air felt thick, charged. She bent down, her fingers brushing the worn cover of the open textbook the girl had been leaning on. The pages fell open to a familiar, detailed diagram. A slow, knowing smile touched Heena’s lips, devoid of amusement. "Ah," she murmured. She lifted the book, her gaze fixed on the page. The silence stretched, taut, as she scanned the text. Then, her voice clear and crisp, cutting through the twilight gloom, she began to read aloud. "Chapter Seven: Human Reproduction"
The boy flushed crimson, looking down at his shoes. The girl stared at Heena, her expression a mix of terror and embarrassment. Heena paused, lowering the book slightly. Her eyes, sharp despite the vodka, locked onto theirs. The diagram seemed to pulse between them. "Interesting choice for a clandestine study session," she remarked, her voice deceptively light. She let the implication hang, heavy in the dusty air. The fluorescent lights in the hallway outside flyickered, casting long, shifting shadows across the frozen scene.
Heena’s gaze softened unexpectedly as she studied them. The boy had sharp, intelligent eyes beneath his flustered expression, and the girl possessed a delicate beauty, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her face. They looked achingly young, earnest, and painfully vulnerable in their panic. A sudden, sharp memory pierced Heena’s tipsy haze – herself at nineteen, tangled in a library carrel with her first serious boyfriend, whispering frantic excuses to a passing professor. The rush of that shared secret, the clumsy fumbling, the overwhelming intensity of young love. She saw the ghost of her own past reflected in their wide, startled eyes. The stern professor mask slipped for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of wistful recognition.
She leaned back against the teacher’s desk nearby, the metal of her bottle cool against her palm. Her voice, when she spoke again, had lost its edge, replaced by a quiet curiosity tinged with the vodka’s warmth. She nodded towards the open book still in her hand, then looked directly at the boy. "So," she asked, her tone almost conversational, "what were you learning? Specifically?" Her eyes flicked pointedly to the detailed anatomical illustration of the female reproductive system splayed across the page. A slow, knowing smile touched her lips, not unkind, but undeniably perceptive. "Oh," she murmured, the word drawn out slightly, "the female reproductive organs. How... fundamental."
The boy opened his mouth, closed it, then stammered, "We... we were revising for the retake, Professor. Next week. Chapter Seven." His voice cracked. The girl remained silent, shrinking into herself, her cheeks burning. Heena took a small, deliberate sip from her bottle, the quiet clink of metal echoing loudly. She watched them over the rim, her expression unreadable now. The twilight deepened outside, turning the classroom into a dim, intimate cave. The diagram seemed to glow under her scrutiny. "Revision," Heena repeated softly. "Practical application is often the best teacher, wouldn’t you agree?" She let the question linger, watching the implications dawn on their faces.
Heena’s gaze sharpened, locking onto the boy. The vodka hummed, loosening her usual restraint, making her bold. "Tell me," she asked, her voice low and direct, cutting through the tension like a scalpel. "Have you ever actually seen one? A vagina? In real life, I mean. Not just diagrams"
The boy’s eyes widened impossibly. He looked utterly stricken, caught between horror and the desperate urge to answer his professor. His mouth worked soundlessly for a second before a strangled, "Uh... just... just in porno, Professor," escaped him, barely audible. He immediately flushed a deeper crimson, unable to meet her eyes, his gaze darting to the floor as if seeking escape.
The girl beside him didn't just flinch; she whipped her head around to stare at him. Her dark eyes, wide with mortification just moments before, now blazed with pure, incandescent fury. It was a death stare sharp enough to flay skin, radiating utter betrayal and disbelief. Her lips pressed into a thin, white line, her entire body rigid with outrage. The silent accusation screamed louder than any words: You absolute idiot!
A sudden, sharp bark of laughter escaped Heena. It wasn't mocking, but genuinely startled, rich and warm, filling the shadowed classroom. The vodka’s warmth surged through her, dissolving the last shreds of professional distance. "Oh, dear," she chuckled, shaking her head slightly, her eyes dancing with unexpected amusement. "Well, that’s honest, I suppose." She leaned back against the desk, the metal cool against her hip. The absurdity of the situation, the raw teenage embarrassment, the girl’s volcanic glare – it all collided with the alcohol in her veins, making her feel strangely, openly alive in the deserted college gloom. Heena pushed herself off the desk, her movements fluid, almost languid. She walked slowly towards the bench where they sat frozen. "Such... enthusiasm for learning," she murmured, her tone shifting, becoming lower, more deliberate. She stopped right before them, her shadow falling across their laps. A slow, deliberate smile curved her lips – not cruel, but intensely focused, almost pedagogical. "It’s rare. Commendable, really." She held out her metal water bottle towards the boy. "Here," she said, her voice crisp. "Take a sip. Calm your nerves. You look like you’ve seen a ghost." He hesitated, stunned, then took the bottle with trembling hands. Heena didn’t watch him drink. Her gaze was already fixed on the terrified girl, then back to him, assessing. "Since you’re both so... dedicated to understanding Chapter Seven," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial near-whisper, "perhaps a practical demonstration would solidify the theory?" She didn't wait for an answer.
Turning, Heena walked to the bench directly opposite theirs, just a few feet away. The wood groaned softly as she sat down, smoothing her sari beneath her. The fading twilight painted her face in soft greys and blues. Without preamble, without hesitation fueled by the vodka’s boldness, she removed the pallu ( end of a sari, used to cover the blouse) from her blouse, gathered the folds of her sari on her waist, Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her simple white cotton panties. In one smooth motion, she slid them down her thighs, past her knees, and off her ankles, letting them pool on the dusty floor beside the bench. She shifted slightly, almost nude, just in her cotton blouse, settling back, and deliberately parted her legs, knees bent, feet planted firmly on the floor. The dim light fell directly onto her exposed vulva.
"See this here?" Heena stated, her voice utterly calm, clinical, yet charged with an undeniable intensity. Her index finger rested lightly, precisely, on the small, hooded peak just above her vaginal opening. Her eyes locked onto theirs, demanding their attention. "This is the clitoris. Primary source of female sexual pleasure." Her finger moved downwards, tracing the inner folds. "Labia minora... labia majora..." She named each structure with detached precision, her finger a pointer against her own flesh. Then, using her thumb and forefinger, she gently parted her inner lips wider, exposing the darker pink interior. "The vaginal opening." Her gaze remained fixed on their stunned faces, especially the girl’s, whose fury had been replaced by sheer, disbelieving shock. Heena’s fingers moved deeper, stretching herself slightly. "And deep inside," she murmured, her voice dropping lower, "if conditions were optimal... you might glimpse the cervix. The gateway." She held the position for a long, silent moment, letting the anatomy lesson sink in, her own body the textbook. The air crackled.
The girl finally tore her gaze away from Heena’s exposed anatomy, her eyes wide as saucers. Her voice, when it came, was a breathless, trembling whisper, cutting through the thick silence. "It’s... it’s slightly different," she stammered, her face flushed crimson. "From... from mine."
Heena tilted her head, her expression shifting from clinical detachment to genuine curiosity. "How so?" she asked softly, her finger still resting near her own opening. Without a word, driven by a sudden, impulsive surge of courage – or perhaps sheer, overwhelming panic – the girl scrambled to her feet. Her hands fumbled at the hem of her knee-length blue skirt. She lifted it, bunching the fabric high around her waist, exposing herself fully to the dim light. Her legs were bare, trembling slightly. There were no panties. Only a glimpse of dark cotton crumpled on the floor beneath the bench where she’d been sitting.
Heena leaned forward intently, her professor’s instincts overriding everything else. Her eyes scanned the girl’s exposed vulva with focused precision. "Ah, yes," she murmured, her voice low and thoughtful. "Variation. Perfectly normal." She pointed gently towards the girl’s inner folds. "See how your labia minora extend slightly more? Very common." Her gaze sharpened slightly, noting a subtle detail. "And your hymen," she added, her tone matter-of-fact, "intact, crescent-shaped. Also perfectly normal." She leaned back slightly, offering a small, reassuring nod. "Anatomy isn't uniform. It’s beautifully diverse."
Her attention snapped to the boy, who was staring, transfixed, his face flushed. "Clear?" Heena asked crisply. "Any doubts?" The boy blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if waking from a dream. "All clear, Professor," he stammered, his voice thick with disbelief and awe. Heena didn't hesitate. She rose smoothly from her bench and moved to theirs, settling herself directly between them on the worn wood. The girl instinctively scooted aside, her skirt still bunched awkwardly around her waist. Heena spread her legs wide once more, her bare thighs pressing against the cool bench surface. "Good," she stated, her gaze locking onto the boy. "Now. Name them. Point to each structure you see."
The boy swallowed hard, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out. His index finger brushed hesitantly against Heena’s outer folds. "L-labia majora," he managed. His finger moved inward, tracing the softer skin. "Labia minora." He paused, hovering near the apex. "And... that’s the... urethra?" His uncertainty was palpable.
"No Rohan!" The girl’s voice cut through sharply, her earlier fury replaced by intense focus. Before Heena could react, the girl’s hand darted forward. Her fingers, surprisingly steady, parted Heena’s folds wider, her touch firm and purposeful. Her fingertip landed precisely on the small, hooded nub. "This is the clitoris," she corrected, her voice surprisingly authoritative. Her finger slid downwards, stopping just below. "That," she emphasized, tapping lightly near the tiny opening nestled within the folds, "is the urethra. The vaginal opening is deeper." Her dark eyes flicked up to meet Heena’s, searching for confirmation, her own embarrassment momentarily forgotten in the intensity of the correction. Heena simply watched her, a slow, approving smile spreading across her lips.
Heena leaned back slightly, breaking the intense focus. Her gaze swept over both students, sharp despite the lingering vodka haze. "Well," she remarked, her voice crisp and carrying the unmistakable tone of a professor concluding a point, "human reproduction is incomplete without the male reproductive organs." Her eyes locked onto the boy, who was still flushed and wide-eyed. "Remove your trousers," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for hesitation. It wasn't a request; it was the next step in the lesson.
The boy froze for a heartbeat, his eyes darting between Heena’s expectant gaze and the girl beside him, who watched with a strange mixture of apprehension and intense curiosity. Slowly, shakily, he stood. His fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, then the button and zip of his blue trousers. The trousers slid down his hips, pooling around his ankles. He hesitated only a second before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pushing them down too. He stood naked before them, his skin pale in the twilight, his flaccid penis resting against his thigh. He looked utterly vulnerable, exposed under the dual scrutiny of his professor and his companion.
"Sit on the desk," Heena directed. Her voice was calm, clinical. The boy obeyed, scrambling awkwardly onto the polished surface, his bare skin making a soft sound against the wood. He sat perched, legs dangling, his hands instinctively trying to cover himself before he forced them to rest on his knees. Heena approached him, her steps measured. She stopped directly in front of him, her gaze dropping pointedly. "Now," she stated, her finger lifting to indicate his exposed genitalia. Her voice was clear, precise. "Name the different parts. Starting here." Her fingertip hovered near the base of his flaccid penis. "The root." She moved upwards slightly. "The shaft." Her finger traced upwards again, stopping near the tip. "The glans." Her eyes lifted to meet his, demanding his full attention. "And these?" She gestured towards the loose sac beneath. The boy swallowed. "Scrotum," he whispered. "And... testes inside." His voice trembled. Heena nodded curtly. "Correct." Her gaze shifted to the girl, who was staring intently at the boy's exposed penis. "Notice," Heena began, her tone clinical yet charged, "how flaccid now." Her finger tapped the shaft lightly. "But this changes dramatically with arousal. Blood fills the erectile tissues." She leaned closer, her breath warm. Her thumb and forefinger grasped the loose foreskin near the tip. With practiced ease, she retracted it fully, exposing the smooth, pink glans beneath. The boy gasped, his body tensing. "See the corona?" Heena pointed to the ridge. "Highly sensitive."
She straightened, her eyes locking onto the girl's fascinated stare. "The most effective way to induce erection," Heena stated matter-of-factly, "is oral stimulation." Without preamble, she bent forward. Her lips parted, enveloping the flaccid head. She sucked firmly, creating a tight seal, her tongue swirling deliberately over the exposed glans. A low groan escaped the boy. His hips jerked involuntarily as warmth flooded the tissue, the shaft visibly thickening under her ministrations. Heena pulled back briefly, saliva glistening. "Deep, rhythmic suction," she instructed the air, her gaze fixed on the girl. "Gentle licks here..." Her tongue flicked the frenulum beneath the head. "...are crucial."
The girl’s lips were parted, her breathing shallow. She unconsciously licked her own lips, her eyes glued to Heena’s mouth working the now-half-erect penis. Heena released him with a soft pop. The penis stood partially engorged, glistening. "Your turn," Heena commanded the girl, her voice low. "Do exactly as I did. Focus on the head." She stepped aside. The girl hesitated only a second. Driven by a potent mix of curiosity and instruction, she slid off the bench and knelt before the boy. Her hands trembled as she grasped his shaft, still slick from Heena’s saliva. She leaned in, mimicking Heena’s motion, taking the swollen glans into her mouth. She sucked hard, experimentally, her tongue pressing against the sensitive ridge.
"Careful," Heena warned sharply, leaning over her shoulder. "No teeth. It's fragile tissue." She guided the girl’s head gently. "Softer suction... now use your tongue flatly." The girl adjusted, her movements becoming more confident. She sucked rhythmically, her tongue massaging the underside of the head as Heena had demonstrated. The boy’s breath hitched; his penis surged to full, rigid erection in her mouth, pulsing against her tongue. The girl’s eyes widened in surprise at the sudden hardness filling her mouth, but she didn’t pull away. She kept sucking, her gaze flicking up to meet Heena’s watchful, approving eyes.
The Rohan's hips bucked involuntarily. "Outch!" he yelped. Priya froze instantly, pulling back with a wet gasp, her lips slick. "Professor, Priya’s... not doing it properly." He gestured toward his throbbing erection, a twinkle in his eyes, "Please..." His voice cracked with need. "...show her again?"
Heena’s gaze sharpened. She knelt beside Priya, her sari pooling around her. "Watch closely," she instructed, her voice low and deliberate. She grasped the base of his shaft firmly. Leaning in, she took the entire glans into her mouth, her lips forming a tight seal. Her tongue flattened against the frenulum, applying steady, rhythmic pressure. "Slow suction," she murmured around him, her voice vibrating against his sensitive skin. "Gentle... constant..." She pulled back slightly, swirling her tongue over the corona. "No sudden movements." She demonstrated again, her head bobbing slowly, deeply, her hand stroking the base in tandem. The boy groaned, his thighs trembling. "See?" Heena released him, saliva stringing between her lips and his glistening tip. "Rhythm and pressure. Not force."
Priya nodded, her eyes dark with intense focus. She leaned forward again, mimicking Heena’s exact motions – the slow, deep take, the flat-tongued massage, the rhythmic suction. Her movements were smoother now, more assured. The boy’s strained expression melted into pure relief. "Yes... like that..." he breathed, his head falling back. "Perfect." Priya’s confidence visibly grew. She increased her pace slightly, her hand mirroring Heena’s earlier stroke, working the shaft while her mouth focused relentlessly on the swollen head. A low, guttural moan escaped the boy, his fingers tangling in Priya’s hair as his hips pushed gently against her mouth. Heena watched, a satisfied, almost predatory gleam in her eyes. The classroom air thickened with the slick sounds of Priya’s efforts and the boy’s ragged breathing. Outside, twilight deepened into full night, the deserted college swallowed by shadows.
Heena’s gaze snapped to the boy’s face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth slack, his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. A deep, shuddering groan ripped from his throat. "He’s close," Heena murmured, her voice low and urgent, she nudged Priya aside. Priya pulled back, startled, her lips wet and glistening. Heena leaned in, taking the entire throbbing length deep into her mouth just as the boy’s hips jerked violently upwards. A choked cry tore from him. Heena’s head bobbed firmly, her throat working as she swallowed the first thick pulses. The boy shuddered, gasping, his body convulsing under the relentless suction. Priya watched, transfixed, as Heena held him deep, her cheeks hollowing, until the final tremors subsided.
Heena pulled back slowly, her lips releasing him with a soft, wet sound. She held her mouth closed for a moment, her expression utterly composed. Then, deliberately, she spat a thick, viscous stream of milky-white semen onto her open palm. She held it out towards Priya, her gaze sharp and instructive. "This," Heena stated, her voice crisp and clinical, cutting through the boy’s panting breaths, "is semen. The essential fluid. Contains millions of spermatozoa." The substance pooled in her palm, glistening faintly in the dim light filtering from the hallway. Priya stared, wide-eyed, fascination twisting her features. She leaned closer, her nose wrinkling slightly at the faint, musky scent.
Without hesitation, driven by a sudden, overwhelming curiosity, Priya dipped her head. Her tongue darted out, quick and tentative, licking the semen from Heena’s palm. She pulled back, her expression thoughtful, almost analytical. She swallowed. "Salty," Priya murmured, her voice hushed but clear. Her dark eyes met Heena’s, filled with a strange blend of scientific detachment and dawning understanding. "And... warm." She licked her lips thoughtfully, tasting the residue. The boy stared at them both, utterly spent and bewildered, his erection softening rapidly against his thigh. Heena watched Priya, a slow, approving smile spreading across her face. The lesson was far from over.
"Let's take a small break," Heena announced.
Enjoy the seduction of Nalini by Two Health Inspectors in the story Nalini And the Unseen Virus
Sex Education
Sex Education
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