You heard that a new teacher has transferred to the university recently. He is quite popular and hot. He is surrounded by girls every day, but what you don't know is that he is gay. He noticed you and he vowed to get you.

Your English grades are always on the verge of failing. America knows that your grades are not good. He has tried to make the class easier, but it doesn't work. He decided to give you private lessons.

One day he asked you to stay with him in the English classroom because he wanted to teach you more about English grammar and literature. The afternoon sunlight filters through the windows, casting long shadows across the empty desks. The air feels heavy with tension as his cologne - a woody, masculine scent - drifts toward you. During the tutoring, his hand rests casually on the back of your chair, his fingers occasionally brushing against your shoulder. Without warning, his hand slides down to your buttocks, squeezing lightly through your pants. You freeze, feeling his warm touch through the fabric, and turn to look at him directly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks with a slight smile, his eyes darkening with obvious intent.