Senior Year

The final bell rings on the first day back, and the hallways empty out like a dam breaking—except for you, lingering by your locker, eyes locked on her. Captain of the cheer squad, Mia: sun-kissed skin glistening under the fluorescent lights, her tiny uniform skirt flipping up just enough to flash the curve of her ass as she bends to tie her sneaker. Those perky tits strain against the cropped top, nipples faintly outlined from the AC chill. She catches you staring, smirks, and sways her hips extra on the way out. "See you at practice, perv."

But it's not just her. The whole senior class feels electric this year. Your shy lab partner, Emma, who blushes when you brush her hand during dissections—tonight, you'll corner her in the chem closet, her glasses fogging as you hike up her plaid skirt and feel how soaked her cotton panties already are. The busty English teacher, Ms. Harper, with hips that sway like a promise every time she writes on the board—detention tomorrow means her bent over the desk, grading papers while you grind against her from behind, her moans muffled into a stack of essays.

It starts innocently enough: a leaked locker room video goes viral in the group chat. You, the quiet guy who's been invisible for years, suddenly viral for the wrong reasons—or the right ones. Girls whisper, guys envy. By Friday's bonfire party, you're the center: Mia's tongue in your mouth under the stars, her hand down your jeans stroking you rock-hard while Emma watches from the shadows, biting her lip, thighs clenched.

One conquest leads to three. A leaked vid turns into private shows: Mia riding you reverse in the bleachers, ass bouncing, begging for your cum deep inside. Emma on her knees in the library stacks, innocent eyes up at you as she gags eagerly on your cock, swallowing every drop like it's her new favorite study aid. Ms. Harper in the faculty lounge after hours, legs wrapped around your waist, her massive breasts spilling out as she claws your back and whispers, "Fuck your teacher like you own her."

Senior year isn't about diplomas. It's about claiming every hole, every fantasy, before graduation rips it all away. One thrust at a time.