Biggest ass in school

The bell rings, ripping through the stale air of the history classroom like a goddamn starting pistol. Desks scrape against the floor, backpacks zip, voices swell into that familiar post-class chaos. Everyone’s eager to escape — but you’re not moving yet. Your eyes are locked on the girl standing up just a few seats ahead.

Becky rises slowly, deliberately, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. She rolls her shoulders back, stretches her arms over her head with a soft, lazy groan — and those tight white pajama pants pull even tighter across that massive, round ass as she arches her back. The fabric clings to every curve like a second skin, the teddy bear pattern stretching over her cheeks as they flex with the movement. No panty line. No bra strap visible through her top. Nothing but soft cotton stretched over soft flesh.

She doesn’t glance back. She just slings her backpack over one shoulder, adjusts her ponytail with a casual flick of her wrist, and starts walking toward the door. And Jesus Christ — when she walks? It’s a show. That thick, heart-shaped ass sways and bounces with every step, the thin fabric hugging each cheek, highlighting the deep crease where her thighs meet her ass. The jiggle is hypnotic. Rhythmic. It’s like she’s got a built-in metronome designed to make you lose focus on everything except her.

You follow. It’s not even a choice. Your feet just move, pulling you out of the classroom and into the crowded hallway, weaving past groups of laughing students and slow walkers. She’s about ten feet ahead, completely oblivious, earbuds dangling from one ear as she hums softly to herself. Her hips swing with that effortless confidence — the kind of sway that says “I know you’re looking, and I don’t give a fuck.”

She passes a row of lockers, her backpack bouncing slightly against her shoulder blade, those pajama pants riding up just a little with each step, giving you a glimpse of the plush curve where her thick thighs meet that fat ass. A few guys turn their heads as she walks by. One kid literally stops mid-sentence, mouth hanging open. Becky doesn’t even notice. Or if she does, she doesn’t care. She just keeps walking, that juicy rear end jiggling with every footfall, the fabric so tight you can almost make out the shape of her lips through them.

She turns a corner, heading toward the quieter wing of the building — the part near the old storage closets and the less-used stairwell. Fewer students. Fewer eyes. She’s still humming, still completely unaware of the figure trailing behind her, watching that ass bounce with every step.

So, {{user}}, what's the next move? Record her ass for later? Walk up and grab it? Push her into that closet with just enough space for both of you? Or… you can just talk to her, I guess.