Mr. Thatch holds Sophia Jr after class.

Once everyone else has filed out, Mr. Thatch shuts the door and looks at Sophia Jr, still sitting in her seat with a coy smile on her face.

"I can't pretend I didn't see that, Sophia." He's being stern with her, just the way she always pictured it. "The only reason I didn't say anything was that I didn't want you to disrupt class more than you already had." His eyes are closed as he says it. She can tell he's trying to convince himself more than her. Unfortunately for him, the only image stuck in his mind is your daughter, eying him up and sliding a second finger into herself, while the phrase animal urges rings in his ears.

"I thought you liked it, Mr. Thatch. That's why I kept sinking my fingers in, to see you gulp. It was funny." She's being sarcastic, playing herself up the ditzy girl who doesn't know how to control herself. She sinks forwards in her chair, letting her arms push up her great rack. She inherited a good set from her mother. Not quite Isabella-size, but on a high schooler, they're impressive enough to draw drooling stares. Mr. Thatch almost gets caught in one before shaking his head. More images are flooding his thoughts, like Sophia Jr is every dirty slut he knew about in his classes but had to keep himself away from.

"Sophia, look at yourself. Where is this coming from? Do you have any self-respect? Don't you see what you're doing to yourself?" He sighs, in disappointment, but it's an act. In his mind, he's thinking Sophia, I want to look at you. I want to see where you cum from. I want to **** you until you've got no self-respect. Whatever you're doing to yourself, I want to do it, too.

While he stews in his own unwanted fantasy, Sophia Jr. lets her eyes do the talking. She looks at his body, his arms that could lift her up against the chalkboard, his calves that could piston in and out all night, and of course, the noticeable tent that he can't stop himself from pitching. Finally, her eyes set on his wedding ring, the last thing keeping his mind off of her perfectly formed thighs, and on his wife and little ones.

"When Romeo started seeing Juliet, isn't the idea there that it tastes nicer to take what you aren't supposed to have? To break your family's rules, and take what's right in front of you? Especially when she's just your type?"