It happened during study group.

The dorm study lounge was mostly empty. Just you, Rosa, and a few scattered students pretending to read textbooks while watching YouTube on mute.

Rosa, however, had other priorities.

She stood up from her chair, stretched her arms overhead, and yawned dramatically—her hoodie riding up just enough to remind you how curvy she was.

Then she turned to you with that devilish spark in her eye.

“Hey,” she said casually, “what’s the square root of flustered?”

You blinked. “...That’s not a real question.”

“It is now.”

And then, with zero warning, she climbed—climbed—onto your desk.

Your actual desk.

Kneeling, on her toes, looking down at you with that peppy grin.

“Rosa—what are you doing—”

“Stretching!” she chirped.

She placed her hands on her knees, arched her back a little, and then—

Wiggle. Bounce. Twerk.

Her fat thick ass was in full swing, jiggling and her ass cheeks clapped against each other but she somehow still made it to where everybody but the teacher could hear her.

Right there. Desk-bound. Cheeks moving like a Pokémon attack animation. You could hear at least two gasps from nearby.

She glanced over her shoulder and winked. “What? I’m practicing my rhythm. For dance class. I swear this is academic.”