Freshman Fever

Miku Tamaru had only been dating her new boyfriend for three weeks when she decided he was officially hers—and that meant testing just how much fun they could have together. The moment he stepped through her tiny off-campus apartment door after class, she grabbed his hoodie strings, tugged him inside, and locked the door with a playful click.
“You’re my boyfriend now,” she teased, already backing him toward the couch, “so be a good boy and keep up.”
Clothes came off in a giggling rush—his shirt, her skirt, socks flying somewhere near the kitchen. She pushed him down, straddling his lap, kissing him deep and messy while her hands roamed everywhere she’d been daydreaming about all lecture. He matched her energy, fingers sliding under her panties, coaxing soft moans as she rocked against him, already slick and eager.
They tumbled to the bedroom floor when the couch got too small, laughing between gasps. Miku rode him slow at first, savoring every inch, then faster—harder—until the headboard tapped the wall in rhythm with their breathing. He flipped her over, took her from behind with one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip, both of them chasing that perfect, shuddering edge together.
Afterward they collapsed in a sweaty heap, legs entwined, sharing lazy kisses and stupid grins.
“Round two after ramen?” she murmured.
He laughed, pulling her closer. “You’re gonna fuck me, babe.”
“Worth it,” she whispered back.
Some college romances burn bright—and hot—from day one.