My Raped pussy 3: aftermath

The rain finally eased after another hour. Bijayini, still sniffling and trembling, quickly pulled on her now-dry t-shirt and leggings. Her body ached — especially between her legs and her bruised breasts, which still bore faint red handprints under the fabric. She avoided looking at Soumya, grabbed her bag, and rushed out of the tuition center without a word. She cycled home as fast as she could, the cool wind stinging her tear-streaked face.

For the next couple of days, Bijayini completely shut down around Soumya. In school and at tuition, she refused to make eye contact. If he tried to approach or whisper her name, she turned away sharply, ignored him, or walked out of the room. Her face stayed blank and cold, but inside she felt a storm of shame, anger, and fear. Every time she sat on a bench, she remembered the pain, the thick stretch, and the warmth of his cum flooding her. She avoided the tuition center as much as possible, making excuses to her parents.

Soumya tried a few times to talk to her privately — “Bijayini, please… I deleted the video. Can we just talk?” — but she gave him nothing but silence and icy avoidance.

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Then came the school cultural event day. The entire school was buzzing downstairs with competitions, performances, and stalls. Bijayini didn’t feel like joining the crowd. Her body still felt sore and violated, and she wanted solitude. She stayed back in the nearly empty classroom on the first floor, sitting at her usual desk near the back, head bent over her books, trying to study for the upcoming exams.

The classroom was quiet, most students downstairs. She was so focused on her notes that she didn’t hear the soft footsteps behind her.

Suddenly, two strong hands slid from behind through her armpits, reaching around and cupping her heavy D-cup breasts firmly over her school uniform top. The hands squeezed hard, fingers digging into the soft, ample flesh, lifting and kneading them possessively.

Bijayini gasped sharply, her body jolting upright. “Wha—?!”

It was Soumya. He pressed his chest against her back, chin resting near her shoulder, breathing warmly against her ear as he continued groping her big tits with both hands — squeezing, pressing, and rolling them in slow, deliberate motions.

“Mmm… I missed these,” he murmured, voice low and hungry. “You’ve been ignoring me for days, Bijayini. That’s not nice after what we shared in the tuition center.”

She froze for a second, then started struggling, trying to push his hands away while staying seated. “Soumya! Stop it! Let go right now!” she hissed, voice shaky with panic. Her plump lips trembled. She looked around desperately — the classroom was empty, but anyone could walk in from the corridor. “Someone might come… take your hands off me!”

Instead of letting go, he squeezed harder, thumbs brushing over her nipples through the layers of fabric, feeling them stiffen unwillingly. Her breasts overflowed his palms, soft and heavy, exactly as he remembered. He pulled her back against him, grinding lightly against her from behind.

“You can’t ignore me forever,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear. “I still think about how tight you were… how you cried while I fucked you… how beautifully these big tits bounced. Delete or not, I have the memory. And right now, I want to feel them again. Be quiet and let me touch, or I’ll make a scene right here.”

Bijayini’s breathing grew ragged, a mix of fear and unwanted flashbacks flooding her. Tears pricked her eyes again as his hands continued mauling her chest — pressing, jiggling, and groping her D-cups shamelessly in the middle of the school classroom.

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Bijayini was wearing her school uniform — a modest yet form-fitting blue and white tunic with a white front panel, brown belt cinched at her waist, and light-colored pants. The uniform hugged her curves, especially her heavy D-cup breasts that strained against the blue fabric, making the V-neckline sit prominently. Her dark hair was neatly braided, and she wore thin-rimmed glasses that gave her a studious, innocent look. She looked exactly like the kind of serious, pretty girl no one would suspect had been secretly violated just days earlier.

Soumya’s hands were still kneading her big tits from behind, squeezing them firmly through her uniform top as he pressed his hardening bulge against her back.

“Soumya… someone will come upstairs… stop!” she whispered desperately, squirming in her chair, trying to pry his hands off her chest. But he was stronger. He pulled her up from the seat, turned her around, and pushed her forward over her desk.

“Shut up and bend over,” he ordered quietly, voice thick with lust. “No one’s coming. Everyone is downstairs enjoying the events.”

He yanked her pants and panties down in one swift motion, bunching them around her knees. Bijayini’s plump ass and still-slightly-swollen pussy were exposed. She struggled, pushing back against him, whispering frantic protests, “Please… not here… I’m still sore from last time…”

Soumya didn’t listen. He freed his thick 10-inch cock, already rock hard, and rubbed the fat head up and down her slit. She was shamefully wet again. With one hand pressing on her lower back to keep her bent over the desk, he gripped her hip and pushed forward.

“Ahh—!” Bijayini bit her lip hard to stifle her cry as he entered her. Her tight walls stretched around his girth once more. It still hurt, but less than the first time. He sank in deeper with each thrust, forcing her to take almost his full length in this new position.

He started slow, savoring the grip of her pussy, watching her braided hair sway and her glasses slip slightly down her nose as she gripped the edges of the desk. His hands reached around and under her tunic, pulling her heavy breasts out of the uniform top. He squeezed them hard again, red handprints reappearing on the soft white flesh as he groped her while thrusting.

Then he quickened the pace.

He began fucking her harder, faster, slamming into her from behind in deep, powerful doggy-style strokes. The desk creaked rhythmically under the force. *Slap-slap-slap* — the sound of his hips hitting her ass echoed softly in the empty classroom. Bijayini’s big tits swung heavily beneath her with every thrust, jiggling wildly as he mauled them from behind.

“Nngh… ahh… slow down… Soumya… please…” she whimpered, struggling half-heartedly, pushing back against his chest with one hand while the other braced on the desk. Tears of shame and overwhelming sensation leaked from the corners of her eyes behind her glasses.

But her body was starting to betray her. The angle in doggy style allowed his thick cock to drag repeatedly against that sensitive spot deep inside her. Unwanted moans began slipping out between her protests — soft, breathy “Ah… ahh… mmm…” that mixed with her struggling whimpers. Her hips started moving back slightly to meet his thrusts, even as she whispered “No… I hate this…”

Soumya groaned in pleasure, pounding her faster and rougher. “That’s it… your pussy is getting wetter. You’re starting to like it, aren’t you? These big fucking tits feel so good in my hands while I fuck you like this.”

He leaned over her completely, one hand still squeezing and pinching her nipples, the other holding her braid like a rein, pulling her head back slightly as he railed her. The wet, obscene sounds of her juices coating his cock filled the air. Bijayini’s glasses fogged up slightly from her heavy breathing. Her mature lips were parted, letting out involuntary moans as the pleasure slowly overpowered the pain and resistance.

He fucked her relentlessly in that doggy position — fast, deep, and possessive — her uniform disheveled, breasts hanging out, ass rippling with every impact.

Soumya was pounding into Bijayini hard from behind, his thick 10-inch cock slamming deep into her pussy in fast, relentless strokes. Her heavy D-cup breasts swung wildly under her disheveled uniform, red handprints still visible on the soft white flesh from his rough squeezing. She was bent over the desk, glasses fogged, braided hair messy, moaning involuntarily despite herself.

“Ahh… ahh… Soumya… slow… I can’t…” she whimpered, her hips twitching back against him even as she struggled weakly.

He gripped her hips tighter, fucking her faster, the wet *slap-slap-slap* sounds growing louder. His balls tightened as he felt his orgasm approaching.

“I’m gonna cum…” he groaned, thrusting even deeper.

Bijayini’s eyes widened in panic. “Wait! Today is not a safe day… please don’t cum inside! Pull out… please!”

At the last second, Soumya pulled his glistening cock out of her stretched pussy with a wet pop. He stroked himself furiously for a few seconds, aiming at her plump ass. Thick, powerful ropes of cum erupted across her smooth buttocks and lower back — hot, sticky strands painting her skin in messy white splashes.

Bijayini shuddered, breathing heavily, a mix of relief and lingering shame on her face.

She quickly reached into her bag, pulled out a couple of handkerchiefs, and wiped his cum off her ass and back as best as she could. Her hands were still trembling. She adjusted her uniform, pulling her pants and panties back up, tucking her sore breasts back into her top. Her pussy felt raw and used, leaking a little of her own juices.

Both of them sat down at the same desk, side by side, breathing heavily. Their chests rose and fell rapidly. Soumya’s face was flushed, Bijayini’s cheeks were red behind her glasses. The air between them was thick with tension and the faint scent of sex.

Without a word, they opened their books. They started studying for the upcoming exams together — quietly turning pages, occasionally pointing out formulas or notes. No one spoke about what had just happened. The only sounds were their still-heavy breathing and the distant noise of the school event downstairs. Bijayini kept her eyes mostly on her book, but she didn’t move away or ignore him.

--A Couple of Days Later--

Over the next few days, the dynamic between them slowly shifted. Bijayini stopped completely ignoring Soumya. She no longer avoided eye contact or walked away when he approached. Their conversations resumed — first awkward and short, then friendlier. At tuition and in school, they sat together again, shared notes, and chatted like before… though now there was an underlying tension and secret intimacy.

She still felt lingering shame and soreness, but the fear of the video was gone, and part of her body remembered the intense sensations. Soumya was gentler in his approach now, not pushing her immediately, but the attraction and power imbalance remained.

One afternoon at tuition, as they were packing up, Soumya smiled at her softly. “Bijayini… you look cute in that uniform, you know.”

She glanced at him, adjusting her glasses, a faint blush on her cheeks, but didn’t snap back or ignore him. “Shut up…” she muttered, though there was no real anger in her voice this time.

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