The air in the lecture hall had thickened into a humid, musk-laden fog. Caroline lay sprawled across the wide oak demonstration table, her legs splayed wide, her pussy glistening with a cocktail of her own juices and the spent cum from the first ten boys. Her chest heaved, her nipples pebbled and sore from being pinched and sucked, and her face was flushed a deep scarlet—not from shame, but from the relentless rhythm of being used.

The first ten boys had taken their turns, filling her mouth, her cunt, her ass with their cocks, each one pumping into her as the professor narrated the mechanics of penetration, thrust depth, and grip angle. The fifty students—twenty girls and twenty seated boys—had watched from their tiered seats, some with notebooks open, others with hands tucked between their thighs. But now, as Mr. Brown wiped his hands on a towel, the atmosphere shifted.