Ms. Jenkins - Your hot Biology teacher

You linger after biology class, pretending to struggle with the day's lesson. Ms. Jenkins notices immediately, her brow furrowing in concern as she watches you flip through your notes.

“Is everything alright, dear?” she asks, approaching your desk with a stack of papers in hand.

You look up, trying to appear confused. “I'm just having trouble with this one concept,” you lie, pointing to a random diagram in your textbook.

Ms. Jenkins sets her papers down and peers over your shoulder. “Let me see if I can clarify it for you,” she says, leaning in close.

Her perfume fills your nostrils - a subtle blend of floral notes that you've always found enticing. The scent, combined with her proximity, sends a thrill of excitement through you. This is the perfect opportunity to test your power.

As she explains the concept, you casually reach out and brush your fingers against her wrist. The instant your skin makes contact with hers, you feel that familiar tingling sensation.

Ms. Jenkins stops mid-sentence, a small gasp escaping her lips. “What... what's happening?” she asks, looking at you with confusion and growing panic.

“I'm not sure,” you lie, trailing your fingers up her forearm. Each touch elicits another gasp, and you can see goosebumps rising on her skin.

You stand slowly, moving to stand behind her chair. Ms. Jenkins tries to turn, but you gently grasp her shoulders, holding her in place.

“Please, don't do this,” she whispers, but there's an undercurrent of excitement in her voice that belies her words.

“You've always been so kind to me,” you murmur against her ear. “I just want to show my appreciation.”

Your hands slide down her arms to her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Ms. Jenkins jumps at the contact, a strangled giggle escaping her.

“I-I have to teach,” she protests weakly, even as she arches into your touch.

“There's no one else here,” you remind her, nuzzling the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Just us.”

That seems to be all the convincing Ms. Jenkins needs. She relaxes into your touch, her earlier hesitation melting away.

Emboldened, you begin to explore more boldly. Your hands roam over her body, tracing the curves hidden beneath her professional attire. When you find her ticklish spots - along her ribs and at her waist - you exploit them mercilessly.

Ms. Jenkins' breath comes in short gasps, caught between laughter and what sounds suspiciously like moans of pleasure. You continue your ****, alternating between gentle caresses and outright tickling.

“Does that feel good?” you whisper, pinching the skin at her waist.

She nods frantically, her hips moving of their own accord. “Y-yes,” she breathes, the admission seeming to cost her some pride.

You decide to push further, slipping your hands beneath her blouse to find the clasp of her bra. Ms. Jenkins tenses slightly, but doesn't stop you as you unhook it with practiced ease.

Her breasts spill free, more ample than you'd imagined. You cup them gently, marveling at their weight and softness.

“Beautiful,” you murmur, unable to resist taking one nipple between your fingers.

Ms. Jenkins moans outright now, all pretense of resistance gone. Her head falls back against your chest as you continue to tease and pinch her sensitive peaks.

The sight of your usually composed teacher, reduced to a whimpering mess in your arms, sends a surge of power through you. You realize that with this ability, you could have any woman you want - even those who should be off-limits.

But Ms. Jenkins isn't content to simply be your plaything. She begins to move against you, her body undulating in a way that makes your own arousal impossible to ignore.

“Do you want more?” you ask, your voice husky with desire.

She nods, turning her head to meet your gaze. There's no fear in her eyes now, only need and excitement.

Without another word, you spin her chair around and push her backward, leaning over her as she sprawls awkwardly. Your hands find their way to her waist again, but this time you don't stop there. You push her skirt up, exposing plain cotton panties that seem out of character for such a composed woman.

Ms. Jenkins watches you with wide eyes, biting her lip in what looks like anticipation. When you hook your fingers into her underwear and start to pull them down, she lifts her hips to help you.

The sight of her exposed, wet and ready for you, is almost too much to bear. You fumble with your own pants, **** to be inside her.

“Wait,” Ms. Jenkins says suddenly, sitting up. “Let me...”

She pushes you backward, guiding you into a seated position on her desk. Before you can react, she's straddling you, her wet heat positioned perfectly against your length.

“I've wanted this for so long,” she admits, sinking down onto you with a sigh of pleasure.

You grab her hips, guiding her movements as she begins to ride you. Her earlier ticklishness seems forgotten in the heat of passion, replaced by a **** need for release.

As Ms. Jenkins moves against you, her breasts bouncing with each motion, you find yourself approaching the edge faster than you'd like. To prolong the moment, you reach between your bodies, seeking out her most sensitive spot.

The instant your fingers make contact with her clit, Ms. Jenkins gasps. Her movements become more frantic, less coordinated, as you work her toward a climax.

“I'm going to...” she starts, but can't finish the sentence.

Her body stiffens, then convulses around you as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her. The feeling is too much, and you find yourself following close behind, spilling inside her with a groan of release.

In the aftermath, Ms. Jenkins collapses against your chest, panting and trembling. You hold her close, stroking her hair as you both come down from the high.

“That was...” she starts, then shakes her head. “I never expected this.”

“Me neither,” you admit, though it's not entirely true. You'd hoped, but never dared to believe it could actually happen.

As your heart rates return to normal, reality begins to set in. Here you are, in the middle of the school day, with your biology teacher straddling you on her desk.

“What happens now?” Ms. Jenkins asks, echoing your own thoughts.

You consider the question carefully. On one hand, this secret could be your ticket to better grades, or even a more permanent arrangement. On the other, it could also be your downfall if it gets out.

As if reading your mind, Ms. Jenkins sits up, her expression serious. “This can't leave this room,” she says firmly. “I have a career to think about.”

You nod in agreement, but can't resist adding, “Though I'd love to see you like this again sometime.”

A ghost of a smile plays across her lips. “We'll see,” she says mysteriously. “But for now, we need to clean up and pretend this never happened.”

As you both adjust your clothing, you can't help but wonder what other possibilities your newfound power might bring.