The house is quiet, save for the distant hum of the refrigerator. The young man, his body still warm from sleep, stretches languidly, his eyes fluttering closed. His hand drifts down, fingers tracing the lines of his body, pausing at his groin. He's hard, his cock tenting the sheets. He bites his lip, his mind filling with images of his teacher, her stern gaze, her crisp blouses that hint at the curves beneath. He strokes himself, his movements slow and deliberate, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He comes with a muffled groan, his body shuddering as he spills into his hand, the room filled with the scent of his release.