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Teaching her a lesson 080
"You stood me up yesterday." It was Friday during the last passing period of the day, in between my senior English and prep period. All teachers were expected to conduct hall duty during these transitions, keeping an eye on the students and keeping them from dawdling overmuch. Most days, I skipped this obligation during this time and went right from Taylor's class into my prep, closing the door behind them and heaving a sigh of relief. Today, however, I was in a good mood. A comparatively easy week professionally thanks to Pixar, and indubitably the best week of my life personally. Sexually anyway. I had plenty of time to decide if there ought to be a distinction between the categories before I sat down to write my best-selling and very anonymous memoirs. I had pretty much floated out into the hallway after class, wishing my students a great weekend and high-fiving Patrice for her leadership in our discussion. It had been a fine note to end the week on. That young woman was going pla
Teaching her a lesson 081
The truth was, I was well aware that our situation was beyond problematic. Every time I began to feel guilty, though, I reminded myself that I had three hot teenage girls to fuck at my leisure, and only a complete pussy would turn down such a thing. And since I wasn't the one who'd affixed that macho perspective in my mind, and that macho perspective was the only thing keeping me going at it, I could hardly be to blame. I was a victim as much as they were. "We're not going to debate the ethics of it. I didn't create these circumstances. If your point was to try to make me feel guilty, you failed before you started. Let's not forget that you were the one who started this by throwing yourself on my lap and trying to wrestle that chapstick away from me, remember? If I hadn't bought that Serenex to intervene, you would have been expelled!" "For a guy who's been drugging and fucking three high school girls, one of their moms and two of his coworkers, you're pretty judgy, you know that?"
Teaching her a lesson 082
Ding-dong. The bell rang twice before it actually woke me. My cell phone nearly blinded me as I checked the time. Almost midnight. I rolled my eyes and I grunted to my feet. "Cassie, it's way too late for--" As I turned the lock, the door pushed open right in my face. I was still stumbling backward in alarm and confusion when the lips on the other side found mine. There was no telling who they belonged to, not at first. She held my face to hers in both hands, too close to see anything even if my eyes weren't still shaking off sleep. There was a potent taste of liquor in her mouth. And a tongue ring. "Taylor?" I managed once I'd pushed her back for air. "Taylor, the door!" I swept around her and threw it shut. "What were you thinking? What are you even doing here?" "Shut the fuck and up me," she said in a slurred voice. From how she was dressed, it was likely she had come from a party somewhere. Her hair had received some attention, more lift and less wavy and unkempt than usual. H
Teaching her a lesson 083
Saturday class was a small group that morning. Some days the roster swelled to the point that we had to move to the library to fit everybody. When I had my druthers, though, I kept it in my own classroom. Easier and more comfortable for me to get stuff done in there without having to relocate, and frankly, the books I had on my shelf to keep bored students awake were better than what our librarian kept on stock. Calvin and Hobbes anthologies, Jack Handey's The Stench of Honolulu, or, for kids I trusted better, Gary Brodsky's The Art of Getting Even: The Do-It-Yourself Justice Manual. Some real gems in my collection.This time of year, teachers were increasingly inclined to let things slide, and students were increasingly inclined to ignore our dwindling attempts at discipline. Saturday class, after all, wasn't for garden variety tardies and missing homeworks. No, Saturday class was reserved only for those just shy of suspension. I'd overheard that we owed Jimmy Fulton's presence that
Teaching her a lesson 084
It was some time before company arrived, long enough for me to change out of my button-down shirt and slacks into khaki shorts and a polo shirt, a whistle slung around my neck. The adrenaline was already pumping. This was going to happen. I could kiss Abbie for pushing me into doing this -- if it wouldn't break character, that is. At long last, the door opened. I waited around the corner from the frontmost bank of lockers, taking in the sounds of the three young women's heavy breathing. Panting, for at least one of them. "You are such a fucking cunt, Cassie, I'm going to fucking kill you," moaned Abbie. "You're going to kill her? Who's the one who just ran a fucking mile barefoot!" "Shit, bitch, I told you to dress for a workout. You're the idiot who decided to wear flip-flops." "I think you guys did great out there! For two ladies who aren't runners, you kept up pretty good. For a while, at least. Barefoot's gonna be slower, of course. Though she also got to run inside the track
Teaching her a lesson 085
"I ain't hiding shit," Abbie protested hotly. "Problem is my track shorts... well... Here. I'll just show you." A moment later, her sweatpants followed her tank top. To my surprise, beneath the pants she was wearing a pair of fairly typical track shorts, bright orange with yellow trim. They were the sort of breezy, comfy looking things I would have worn if I'd been going to run.Then she turned around.It was well-known, and by most of those present in this locker room especially so, that Abbie Stern was a thick-ass white girl, to quote her own instagram posts. It was another thing to see what that ass did to her shorts. From the front, everything had looked normal enough. If there was a lot of leg showing, that was how they were cut. Abbie was half a head shorter than Taylor, besides, so she had a lot less leg to show. From the back, however... they were sucked right up the middle of her ass. Plump, meaty cheeks were squeezed out the bottom in much the same style as her sister's bra.
Teaching her a lesson 086
It was interesting, they way they each stripped differently. None of them hurried through it. As little as they were wearing, each could have been naked and in the shower in thirty seconds. Instead, they took their time. With a little pout for my prior criticism, Taylor began with her shorts, bending at the waist and dropping them almost to the floor until catching them with her foot, pausing to rub the flesh of her buttocks, massaging out the sting of Abbie's drumming. Then she once again noticed the status of her feet, at which point she sat down and resumed scratching at the cake-on dirt. It was actually a little gross, but that made it more real, which made the whole thing more sexy. Cassie went top to bottom, releasing her hair from the bun, then off with the sports bra as she asked a distracted Taylor follow-up questions about her hopes for a gymnastics career. The volleyball shorts came after, her white cotton panties following in the same motion. Then she retrieved a brush fr
Teaching her a lesson 087
The staccato claps of water against the tile as the girls moved this way and that, water pooling and then falling in bursts. The growl of the stream against Cassie's wash cloth as she wetted it. Up close, I could even hear the friction of Taylor's stolen loofah exfoliating her soft wet skin. And of course, Cassie chatting up no one at all, filling the silence with her speculation about what the girls at the meet were doing, how pissed Lori would be if she found out Taylor was using her loofah, whether they had a shot at state, wouldn't it be funny if they pulled a prank on some of the girls while they had access to the locker room, but not really, because that'd be mean, unless the Sterns were into the idea. They were not. It really wasn't fair. These girls were all amazing in their own unique ways. Physically, of course, but also as partners in this whole mad scheme. The frankness and sweet simplicity Cassie brought into it. She owned her desires and was curious about mine in a way
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