Get this over with

You decide you don't want to think about all this too much. You set aside the potential 'risk', telling yourself you're not going to trigger something you have no intent of doing. The idea is to get off, relieve a raging boner, and get on with your doings on. Experimental shit can be for planned occasions. You got enough of a damn scare when you briefly woke Miss Dahl a moment ago. See where curiosity gets you? The gutter.

Speaking of which, there she is on the floor, Carolina Dahl, woman of your wet dreams, naked and unknowing... looking like some sort of zombie with her eyes wide open and lips parted mid-syllable. Not very sexy. You bend down and pull her eyelids over. That's better. Your hand goes down to your cock and you start stroking it absently. Standing there you take in the sight, wondering what you would do if you were having sex with your teacher. Every inch of her is equally alluring, from her ankles to her belly, and from her wide, round bosoms to the place where her shoulders meet her neck. You picture yourself beside her, locking lips with her while she grips your cock and you finger her pussy, making her cum in your palm over and over, other hand kneading her fleshy boobs and playing with her nipples. You imagine sliding your cock between her thick, protruding pussy lips and tickling your tip by barely skimming her bush with it, before entering her and shaking her body up and down, sending ripples up through her tits, bouncing them up and down. You see yourself shove her down to her knees and thrust your dick in her gaping mouth, sinking down her throat and spurting hot cum deep inside while she stares up at you. Your hand is a blur jerking your cock as you visualise all this.

You're about to cum when the brilliant idea hits you: you could do it for real though! You let go of your dick and instantly regret it as with the throes of orgasm subsiding your abused arm screams into your brain that you might have gotten tendonitis had you kept it up. I'll make it up to you, you bastard, you think to yourself.

You step forward, bend your knees and put your feet a bit further apart, until your cock is level with Miss Dahl's mouth. You reach down with your undamaged hand and push Miss Dahl's mouth open, sparing only a passing thought for the presence of hard, sharp objects inside, and the absence of an internal guiding **** to keep them out of the way, before confidently thrusting in. You're on the edge of cumming, so you figure the sensory overload of an actual warm, wet place will send you straight to paradise faster than imagining it possibly could.

No such luck. The next thing you know you're frozen completely still in an elongated gasp for breath, eyes wide and staring. You dare not look down as you slowly pull out, the pain so strong you think flesh was ripped from your glans, leaving a gaping, blood-spurting wound with trauma resulting in a sexual handicap for life. Finally you look down.

No blood, no tear, no injury, nothing. Just unnuterable pain and a lesson learned the hard way. Never again will you try to sneak a blowjob out of someone not 100% committed to not hurting you in the act. Bloody hell.

You're still hard, as luck (or misfortune) would have it. If there were such a thing as blue-balls you'd have it now, only with more pain. And you sure as hell are not giving up. You can't wash off your precum if you go limp until you get home, by which time it will have lodged underneath your foreskin and hardened, causing more unnuterable pain. What to do? Your wanking arm is dead, it says "nah fuck off mate", and your good arm is a damn slow-coach.

Finally another brilliant idea knocks on your door, tentatively this time, because it knows what it's brother did to you. But as far as you know, there are no teeth to be found in pussy, right?

You get down on your knees and shimmy forward a bit. Your dick is too high and pokes right slap bang centre of Miss Dahl's belly, on her belly-button. No way to get down to the pussy, so you'll have to bring the pussy up to you. You lift Miss Dahl upwards, back against the chalkboard, gripping her thighs from underneath. It takes several tries, given both your hands are occupied and your partner cannot provide assisstance, to get yourself in, but at length you manage to aim correctly, and your tip slides past the dangling pussy lips and you push your cock inside. Relieved, you begin thrusting in and out. You barely last thirty seconds before the tell-tale tensing at the base of your penis heralds your orgasm. Within the same breath you start spewing cum. You hold yourself inside her, a couple of seconds, waiting as long as your arms can bear for the sensation to subside. You pull out and let Dahl's still inert body slump back to the floor, only to spray her upper body with more cum, a whole two more seconds, thick and ropey as ever.

"Shit."

You're going to have to clean that stuff up, and even now more is oozing out of your teacher's pussy, pooling on the floor. What a damn nuisance. It wasn't even that good. You sigh. At least it's over.

You clothe yourself. You rummage around your stuff to find some wipes. Didn't bring any today. You're not in one of your shit-nose periods. You start going through other people's stuff because why not? They can't stop you, and can never pin it on anything but their own half-working brains. Soon you find some disposable hankerchiefs. You wipe away the cum on Miss Dahl's chest and thorax, then the cum on the floor, then wipe her cunt until it doesn't ooze so much. You clothe her again. You leave her slumped on the floor.

You're so out of it it doesn't occur to you that there's going to be a very awkward break in what the rest of the class sees. One moment their teacher was explaining to them some strange mathematical formula, the next, she's on the floor, recovering from what? A stroke? In fact, you didn't even remember to not reattach her bra straps. By the time all of this hits you you've already given the order. Miss Dahl gasps as she regains awareness on the floor, a flurry of concerned murmuring passes through the other students, and you are left simply hoping that everyone simply alters their own memory to fit what they think makes sense, as people are prone to.

Class ends abruptly, with Carolina complaining of an upset stomach. The class deleguates have to stay behind to fill in and relay the discharge forms for the administration, to cover for the teacher releasing the students from her care, being otherwise 'responsible' for them within her class hours. That it is a strange, infantilising system is the last clear thought you have as you walk out, before trekking home on wobbly legs across town.

Later, after you've eaten, after you've had a pick-me-up in the form of some strong **** that some friend gifted you ages ago and has endured for years in tiny glassfuls, you try and work out what went wrong. Unfortunately all you're able to find from this introspection is that you are unusually tired for the time of day, exhausted at 9 pm. Normally you would be inclined to stay up until at least midnight. As you turn in, having not bothered to do any sort of academic work, having done nothing more than wallow in a funk all evening, you realize you were awake and active considerably longer than is possible in one earthly day, due to your repeated and prolonged freezing of time.