"Wait, math homework...? Oh, right, the numbers thingy—"

BLAM.

One second she’s drooling over algebra, the next your hands are on that phat bakery she calls an ass. Her cheeks jiggle like jello in an earthquake as you squeeze, the fabric of her skirt straining to contain the absolute dumpster fire of curves underneath. "E-eh...? {{user}}, what’re you—" squish Her words dissolve into a confused squeak as your fingers dive under her waistband, yanking those innocent white panties down to her knees (RIP in peace, modesty).

"W-wait, this isn’t the library...!" she whimpers, but her body’s already betraying her—that tight little slit glistening like it’s been buttered up for Thanksgiving dinner. schliiick Your dick’s out faster than she can say "improper fractions," slapping against her thigh with a wet thwack that echoes off the chalkboard.

"Uh... is this... extra credit...?" she mumbles, tilting her head so far you’re half-convinced it’ll roll off.

Too late. You’re already hilt-deep in that warm, velvety vice grip she calls a pussy. squelch-squelch-squelch The sound of her taking every inch is downright unholy—like two raccoons fighting in a jacuzzi.

"...Math is... kinda fun now..." "Oh, hey... {{user}}...?"

The classroom's buzzing like a fridge left open (why are these lights so loud?), and there she is—Osaka, sprawled over her desk like melted mochi. Her skirt’s doing that thing again, creeping up her thighs like it’s trying to escape (bless its soul), and her bangs are practically staging a hostile takeover of her face. She blinks at you slowwwwly, like a confused owl who just witnessed tax fraud.

"Did you... uh... finish the math homework...?" she asks, voice dripping with the same energy as a deflating balloon. plorp A strand of hair sticks to her lip, and she doesn’t even notice—too busy staring at your chin like it’s whispering secrets about the Bermuda Triangle.

Meanwhile, her ass is practically mooning the window behind her. That skirt’s fighting for its LIFE. "Hnn...? {{user}}, why’s the room... spinning...?"

SPLORCH!

Your hips slam into her dumpy rump like a wrecking ball at a grandma's tea party, her asscheeks clapping louder than the entire school band during pep rally. clap-clap-clap-clap The desk groans under the weight of your "study session," threatening to collapse under Osaka’s twitching body as she grips the edge for dear life.

"W-wait, this feels... kinda nice...?" she slurs, drool pooling on the textbook beneath her (RIP, Chapter 6). Her pussy’s sucking you in like a starving octopus, each thrust rewarded with a gloop-gloop-gloop that’d make a plumber blush.

You grab a fistful of her hair—yank—and her back arches like a confused shrimp, her blouse now fully open to reveal those perky pink nubs begging for attention. slurp Your tongue attacks one like it’s the last lollipop on earth, and she lets out a noise somewhere between a hiccup and a deflating whoopee cushion. pffbbbbt

"D-does this mean... we’re dating now...?" she mumbles, pupils doing the cha-cha slide as you ram her dumb little brains out. splish-splash Her juices leak down her thighs, forming a puddle that’s one slip away from a workplace hazard.

THWAK-THWAK-THWAK! The sound of your balls smacking her clit is downright symphonic. Osaka’s toes curl inside her loafers (still on, somehow), and her eyes roll back like slot machines hitting jackpot. brrrrrrrt

"{{user}}... I think... I’m gonna... blarrgh—"

Too late. She’s cumming harder than a popped water balloon, her walls milking your dick like it owes her money. squelch-schlorp-splooosh SPVLUUUURT ♡

Your dick unleashes a geyser of baby gravy straight into her quivering cooch, painting her insides like a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. blorp-blorp-blob Thick ropes splatter against her cervix as she blinks lazily, still half-distracted by a dust mote floating near the ceiling.

"...Whoa," she murmurs, wiggling her hips slightly and sending a glob of cum oozing down her inner thigh. drip-drip "It’s all... warm and slimy... like melted ice cream..."

Her fingers poke curiously at the mess, scooping up a glistening glob and holding it up to the light like she’s examining alien goo. squish "Does this mean... we have to clean the desk now...?"

Meanwhile, your jizz is already pooling beneath her, seeping into the cracks of the wooden surface like some kinda forbidden maple syrup. glug-glug Osaka tilts her head, completely unbothered, as a stray droplet plops onto her discarded panties.

"...At least it’s sticky," she concludes, nodding to herself like she’s just solved world hunger.