Harem Apocalypse: Every Moan Levels Us Up!

I stopped thinking and showed up.

May didn’t wait. She crossed the small detention room in two strides and closed every inch of distance between us. This was happening. No hesitation, no take-backs.

"Abram," she whispered, voice low and sure, her breath warm against my collarbone. "I’ve given so much for this moment. All I need is for you to fuck me properly."

I moved in until there was zero space left. Her head rested against my chest, not quite touching yet, just feeling the heat and weight of each other in a room we both knew no one would interrupt until we were finished.

I shut out the distant noise of students and focused on the rhythm of her heartbeat against me — quick, excited, alive.

This is going to be the best day of your life, I thought as my hands started moving.

I gripped her waist, that perfect bridge between her upper body and hips, and lifted her slightly as she rose onto her toes to reach my mouth. She wrapped her arms around the back of my neck and kissed me. Her tongue met mine in perfect sync, hungry and unapologetic.

I cupped her face, then slid my hands down to her waist as the kiss deepened. The pace was fast, almost desperate, like we both knew time was borrowed. I grabbed her ass, feeling its weight and softness, and pressed her back against the wall. I was aggressive. She smiled into the kiss, she liked it.

"This is turning to be the best day of my fuckin life," she confirmed, breath warm against my lips.

We kissed again, slower this time, savoring it while my hands explored her body. She started unbuttoning my shirt. I helped her peel it off, standing half-naked in broad daylight inside a school detention room like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She looked me over and smiled, dimples flashing. "Promise me you’ll take me outside the walls one day."

"I’ll take you," I answered without hesitation.

She stretched her arms above her head in a clear invitation. I leaned in, inhaling the faint floral perfume on her skin as I unbuttoned her shirt. One by one the buttons came undone.

"Promise me we’ll fuck in zombie land one day," she said as I slid the shirt off her shoulders.

"I promise."

I hung her shirt on the window hook right next to mine. She stood there in a black bra and her raised black mini skirt, a small red flower tattoo curving from her waist down toward her thigh like an invitation.

I reached behind her, unclasped the bra, and let it fall. Her tits spilled free — soft, heavy, perfect. Round and full, with tight pink nipples already begging for attention. I didn’t touch them yet.

Instead, I lifted her by the ass, her bare breasts pressing warm against my chest, and carried her the few steps to the table. I set her down on the edge, her legs parting naturally as I stepped between them.

Then I just looked. I drank her in slowly, deliberately, letting my eyes devour every inch while my hands stayed at her waist.

Her waist dipped into that perfect hourglass curve that made my palms itch to bruise. Her breasts sat high and proud, nipples stiff and flushed. The red flower tattoo on her hip curved like a trail leading lower, disappearing under the bunched-up fabric of her skirt.

I pushed the skirt higher, bunching it around her waist.

The panties underneath were sheer black lace — practically transparent. I could see everything: the smooth, puffy outer lips, the delicate inner folds already glistening with wetness, the faint shadow of her clit hood. A small wet spot had formed right at the center, darkening the lace.

How do you make it, wearing transparent panties with a high skirt and moving comfortably on campus? The thought hit me hard. Bold as hell. She walked these halls every day knowing anyone who looked close enough could see her pussy through the fabric. The idea made my cock throb painfully against my trousers.

I didn’t touch. I just looked, letting the hunger build, letting her feel the weight of my stare on her most intimate place while she sat there exposed on the table, topless, skirt hiked up, legs spread for me. She watched me watching her.

The way the sheer fabric had clung to her slick folds, outlining every soft curve and crease. The way her thighs trembled slightly when my gaze lingered. The way her pussy looked swollen and ready, already leaking for me.

"Abram," she breathed, voice husky with need.

I still didn’t touch. I wanted her to feel how badly I was studying her. How I was memorizing every fold, every glistening line, every twitch of her body under my gaze.

Then I hooked my fingers into the waistband and slowly dragged the sheer panties down her thighs, letting them catch on her skin for a moment before they dropped to the floor. I picked them up and slipped them into my pocket as a souvenir — warm, damp, still carrying the scent of her arousal.

May sat back on the edge of the table, completely exposed now. Topless, skirt bunched uselessly at her waist, legs slightly parted, her smooth, glistening pussy on full display for me.

I paused for one long second, just looking. I had seen two pussies inside these walls so far. This one was something else.

Her breathing had grown heavier. Her nipples were tight little peaks. A fresh bead of wetness seeped from her folds and trailed slowly down her inner thigh.

My breath caught in my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs like something trying to escape. My cock was so hard it ached, pressing against the inside of my trousers with a desperation that bordered on painful.

The air between us felt electric. Every shallow breath I took carried the scent of her arousal, warm and sweet, and it made my head spin.

"Abram," she breathed, voice husky with need.

I still didn’t touch. This was only the beginning. And we still had time.