She was desperate for it. That teacher knew what she wanted when she pulled that strap-on from her drawer, fingers trembling as she lubed up in front of the mirror. Classroom lights off, curtains drawn—just enough light to see the way her thighs shake when that plastic cock slides home. Riding hard, nails digging into the desk edge like she’s trying to fuck through wood. Mouth open, gasping between thrusts, tongue out like a starved animal. The strap-on makes wet slapping sounds every time it bottoms out—pussy dripping, legs wrapped so tight around the student’s waist you can see where her juices smear down their stomachs. No finesse. Just raw hunger.
