Suku stared at his phone, bald head gleaming under the dim lamp, depression clinging like a second skin. One year. No contact. Yet here he was, dialing Aamy's number as she neared her apartment. "Aamy? It's Suku. Coffee? My place is just around the corner. Purely friendly catch-up." Her voice crackled through, sharp as ever. "Professor Bald-and-Broody? After ghosting me for a year? Bold move. Fine, but if this is some midlife crisis ploy, I'm out." She arrived, strong posture unyielding, eyes sparkling with that old silent crush now voiced. "Your room smells like regret and cheap cologne. Witty choice." Suku smirked, pouring coffee. "Says the student who used to linger after lectures, pretending it wasn't about me." Aamy laughed, leaning in, not submissive but commanding. "Oh please, you resigned because you couldn't handle the tension. I was fragile? Hardly. I knew your game." Banter flew like sparks: her teasing his loneliness, him admitting suppressed desires, her retorting, "Loneliness makes you horny, not clever. But damn if I'm not curious." Tension thickened; hands brushed, breaths quickened. She stood tall, pulling him close. "Show me that hard cock you've been hiding." Clothes shed amid panting; she guided him, wet pussy dripping as she stroked his cock, making him sweat. "No force here—I decide." He grew harder, her ass grinding against him, horny energy building to blowjob tease, cum already on her lips as they panted toward explosion. "This is mine now," she whispered, strong and in control.
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