Chapter 3: Leaking in the Next Class

Vicky’s legs felt unsteady as he made his way down the crowded corridor toward his next lecture. Every single step sent a fresh reminder of what Logan had just done to him in the bathroom. Thick, warm cum sloshed deep inside his stretched hole, and despite his best efforts to clench, a slow, steady trickle was already leaking into his ruined pink panties. The lace fabric clung wetly to his skin, and he could feel the slickness beginning to coat the insides of his smooth thighs.

He kept his head slightly lowered, cheeks burning with a mix of shame and lingering arousal. His short pleated skirt swayed with each movement, and he prayed no one would notice the subtle wet spot forming or the faint sheen on his inner thighs. To everyone else, he was still the same adorable, innocent-looking boy who turned heads for all the right reasons. No one could possibly know that just minutes ago he had been bent over a bathroom sink, moaning like a whore while Logan pumped him full of cum.

By the time he reached the medium-sized lecture room for his Sociology class, Vicky was breathing a little faster than usual. The room was already filling up. He scanned the seats and spotted Alex sitting in the middle row, near the back — exactly where they usually sat together. Alex’s eyes lit up the moment he saw Vicky approaching, that familiar possessive smirk tugging at his lips.

Vicky slid into the seat beside him, carefully smoothing his skirt down. The moment his ass made contact with the chair, another thick glob of Logan’s cum pushed out of him, soaking further into his panties. He let out a tiny, involuntary whimper and pressed his thighs together tightly.

Alex noticed immediately.

He leaned over, pretending to look at Vicky’s notebook, and whispered, “You’re late ... and you look flushed, princess. Rough morning?”

Vicky bit his lip and gave a small nod, not trusting his voice yet. Alex’s hand casually dropped under the desk and landed on Vicky’s soft thigh, squeezing gently at first. But as the professor began the lecture on social structures, Alex’s fingers started sliding higher, pushing under the hem of the short skirt.