Better not risk it.

Jennifer whines as you regretfully pry yourself from her volcanic snatch, collapsing back onto your chair.

Sitting up, she pouts. Saying, "No round two."

"No, that was risky enough," you shake your head.

Jennifer looks down at her shirt's three missing buttons, then at you with a cocked eyebrow.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me walking topless through school." She archly stated.

A vision of a topless Jennifer striding the halls silently, daring her schoolmates to say anything, strutted through your mind.

Laughing, she buttoned her shirt, remarking, "No need to say anything, Daddy. I'll swing by the school nurse, and she'll issue me a P.E. shirt."

Shirt buttoned, she hopped off your desk, waltzing over to her purse. Opening up, she pulled out a tampon.

Glancing at you, she said, "Don't want to leak everywhere." Before opening the package and stuffing it into her pussy. Smoothing her skirt, she grabbed her things and walked back over to you. Leaning down, she mashed her lips to yours, kissing you.

Breaking the kiss, she purred, "Thanks for the excellent lunch, Daddy. My kitty got exactly what it needed." Straightening, she turned and strode to the classroom door. Pausing, she looked back at you over her shoulder.

"You might need to put your pointer away. You could poke someone's eye out with that weapon."

Parting shot delivered, Jennifer opened the door, exiting the room. Alone, you stare at your still throbbing cock smeared with your and Jennifer's combined fluids. Awkwardly, you clamber to your feet to pull up your pants and boxers. Fixing that, you were now able to move around and not be accused of imitating a penguin.

Shaking your head, you lean down, picking up the box of Kleenex from the floor. Taking out several sheets, you wipe up the excess jizz that leaked from Jennifer's cunt. Tossing them, you spent several minutes picking up your floor. Adjusting your bulge, you leave the classroom and dash to the teachers' lounge, grabbing some coffee. You manage to make it back before too many of your students were waiting at the door.

Opening the door, you stand back as the teen enters the classroom ahead of you. Taking a sip, you enter the room, heading for your desk. Sitting down at her seat, Jessica Miller pauses, sniffing the air.

"What is that smell?" she wonders out loud.

Silently berating yourself, you open your desk drawer, pulling out a can of air freshener. Spraying the air, you hoped to mask the smell of sex with fresh laundry scent. Putting the can away, you give the classroom a once-over to see if you'd missed anything.

Looking around, nothing leapt out at you. So you sat back down at your desk as your students flooded in. A couple minutes later, right before the bell rang, the door opened, and in strode Dallas Cabera. She abruptly stopped, her eyes going wide as she met your gaze.

Dallas was wearing jeans that sat low on her hips. Her white top was oversized, leaving one of her shoulders bare. You could clearly see the white of her bra strap. Looking at her, your mind is drawn back to the picture of her and her friends, all topless, showing off their new nipple piercings.

The moment is broken as the door opens behind her, almost hitting her in the back. Dallas jumps and heads to her normal desk, sitting down. Sure enough, the bell rings and fifth hour starts.

After taking roll, you launched into the material you had planned to go over Monday if you hadn't ended up in the hospital. It went better than in earlier classes thanks to you fucking Jennifer on your desktop. Sadly, though, you still had a distraction.

Your cock was still hard from the two Viagras you accidentally took. Not daring to stand up, you stayed at your desk, hoping no one noticed your still raging hard-on. You made it through class, though you didn't exactly cover yourself in academic glory. You're glad when the bell rang and all your students started getting up.

"Miss Cabera, a minute please." You call out before she could flee the classroom.

The Latina froze and seemed to deflate as she clutched her books, approaching you.

"Yes, Mr. Clarkson," she asked, resignation palpable in her voice.

Studying the teen, you open your mouth but momentarily forget what you were going to say. All of a sudden a flash of Dallas on her knees as you filled her tight snatch from behind hit you. You blinked as the vision shifted to her being held down by Beth Anne and Bailey. Krystal was kneeling between her thighs pouring your seed into the teens cunt from hers finger at a time.

"Mr. Clarkson?" Dallas asked again.

Blinking, you were back in the here and now.

"Ahh, yes, Dallas," you murmur. "It's about your detention."

"Yeaaahhhhhh, I thought so," she sighed.

"With practice tomorrow and Friday's overnight trip, I want to see you here right after the bell rings, okay?"

She looks away from you as if trying to find a way out. After a moment she sullenly whispers, "Yes, sir, I'll be here," before leaving.

Watching the teen retreat, you can't help but wonder at how those deep black eyes would look with your dick at the back of her throat.

You bring yourself back to reality as your sixth-period students start taking their seats. You couldn't help but smile when Bailey, your newest lover, burst into the classroom. She was wearing the same gothic lolita outfit from last week, reminding you that you two never made it to the mall after the tattoo parlor.

Instead of the back, where she normally sat. Bailey moved up to the front row center of the classroom, right in front of your desk. Sitting down, she flashed you a smile before licking her lips. Open up your attendance book and start calling names. As you quickly go down the list, you notice two young men, Mark Ward and George Patrick. Who was sitting behind Bailey were both smiling and nudging each other.

"Mr. Ward, Mr. Patrick, is there anything you would like to share with the class?" You call out.

"Naw, there's nothing up, Mr. Clarkson," George shot back with a smart-ass tone. "Me and my homeboy are just shooting the shit, dawg."

Your brow furrows as you puzzle out what he said. Breathing deep, you admonish him, "Young man, I'm your teacher. You'll refer to me as Mr. Clarkson or sir. I am not your dawg, get it?"

The young man's face darkens as he blurts out, "Why are you busting my chops, teach? Me and Markie are just admiring the tat this bitch has..."

"Mr. Partrick," you call out, cutting him off. "I don't know if you have a girlfriend, but here's a free piece of advice. Referring to women as bitches rarely scores you any points and will most likely get you slapped."

Angry now, he mouths off, "What the fuck, man..."

"Please get up and go explain yourself to Dean Withers." You calmly clap back.

You watch as the angry teen gets up, almost kicking over the desk. Storming out, you hear him venting, "Who the fuck does he think..."

Bailey looks over her shoulder, watching the young man stalk from the classroom. Turning back to you, she silently mouths, "Thank you, Daddy."

Nodding to her, you say to the class, "Now that that's out of the way. Let's finish roll, because we have a lot of material to go over."

Finishing roll call, you launch into class, covering what you weren't able to because of your hospital stay. Despite your erection, which is still gone, and Bailey eye-fucking you whenever you look in her direction. You manage to get through the class without further incident. The end of class came before you realized.

As the three tones of the bell faded, you called out, "Okay, class, finish up reading chapter 7 tonight, and be ready for a quiz on Friday."

A collective groan erupts from your students as they gather their things before leaving. Lagging behind, Bailey takes her time getting up. Using her hands, she smooths her skirt before flashing you an impish smile.

"Mnnnn, thank you, Daddy," she purrs as she approaches your desk. Walking around to your side, she leans on the desk, continuing, "Watching you handle Georgie made me so wet."

You felt your cock throb at her statement. Swallowing, you ask, "Has he been giving you issues?"

You watch as her finger lazily meanders across her chest, allowing you to see the faint bump of her nipples through the fabric of her shirt.

"We have second-period P.E. together; he noticed my neck yesterday." Turning, she brushed her hair out of the way, displaying the black D and scarlet W of her tattoo. "He somehow decided that me having a tat would make him irresistible to me." Turning back to you, she leaned back against the desk, arching her back. You could definitely see the bumps of her fabric-covered nipples. "He's been something of a pest."

Your mouth went dry as your libido, still simmering, roared back with, "Yes, do her!"

The impulse to reach out and snag her hips left your fingers twitching when Dallas stormed into the classroom. Momentarily freezing, Bailey looks at the teen before whispering, "Another time, Daddy."

She then heads back to her desk to grab her things. But not before stretching in a way that caused her blouse to rise up just enough to flash a glimpse of the partially completed Teen Breeder tattoo.

Putting her things down, Dallas pulls out her history book as Bailey floats out of the classroom, leaving the two of you alone.