Boring as a lecture at school

Now finally freed of the terrors of bad game design he considered his options, which quickly lead him to the conclusion. He simply leaned against the wall, waiting. He knew full well what Vanessa was gonna do now that he left. She was finishing the job herself, masturbating to orgasm. Sure, it would have been nice to be the one to get her off. Would be nice as well to see it. But in the end, he still had her hacked phone, which would record and send everything to his computer for later. All that was left for now was stay close, so her thoughts were **** to stay on him. This would be a fun day.

Half an hour later he entered his first class. Originally he had planned just to leave school once his scheme with Frank powering up Layklé would have been over, but considering how that failed, and more importantly, how strong the new power he got was, he decided to stay. The effect on the girls in his class was immediate. First he thought that every single one of them, since they all turned to him the second he entered the room and looked at him with clear interest, but then he heard the whispers.

'He looks okay' 'Do you think they...' 'How is he alive' 'What do you think really happened with them'

He understood. The short break he took with Vanessa was not unseen. They must have expected him to come back... wait, she did wet his hair, right? Her fake pseudo alibi for being with him? As if in a habit, he went through it and noticed it being all dried by now. Lucky.

Followed by every gaze in the room he sat down on his chair, just as Vanessa opened the door, pulling the attention to herself. Most boys were only looking at her the usual way - being focus on tits, ass or between her legs, hoping to one day see some more - whereas the girls saw more. They were, obviously, more experienced with the looks of a sexually pleased woman. Not all of them could tell, but John noticed some stares coming back to him. He knew in their head there was no more doubt that he just got Vanessa Hawthorne off.

Even better, if anyone would ask him, he would deny every single bit. If he told them he did, he would be considered bragging. But since he will deny anything happened, and so will Vanessa, that will only make it worse. He was certain that by the end of the day, hell, by the end of the lesson thanks to modern technology, the whole school would know that the queen of all bitches, Vanessa Hawthorne, was being fucked on the peeper toilet by the weird nerd boy John Newman. And he couldn't be happier about it.

As class went on, he put a lot of focus on the teacher. Mr Cravenporth was a guy in his early 40s, as generic as a teacher could be. Yet, if John would put his attention elsewhere, he would probably be **** to endless conversations instantly. They all were interested in his pre-class-fuck... right?

A quick glimpse around revealed the truth to him. They were, but not the way he thought. While he noticed glimpses at himself every now and then - especially always after someone had whispered to his or her neighbour, the one who just recieved the information instantly stared at John, just before getting out his phone and texting away - three people were doing more. Their looks were not short or hidden. They were actively staring. And Vanessa was one of them, which most likely only infused the story to spread faster.

He knew he had just found out who in this class had a higher Libido stat than Intellect.