Ms. Perez steps in

Concurrently, a brunette woman with enough slender curves to turn a hall of heads click-clacked down the east building passage. Counting the classes with each passing foot, she eventually found Mr. Dinger's room and wrapped her hand around the door handle.

She was a little late, but thankfully he was still at his desk.

And he was not alone.

"Henry," she shook her head as she pushed the door open, "I'm so sorry. I nearly forgot to drop these papers you asked about and had to.."

What she had originally planned to say wormed back down her throat. Right after closing the door, the sight in the classroom before her dipped her face in red and pulled the lids of her eyes to her brows.

The teacher dropped the papers she had nestled at her arm and stared, shocked, at not just the teacher speculating the show, but the one performing it. Her brow furrowed. She knew this girl, currently splayed on the desk frigging her half-naked, healthy body in front of Mr. Dinger; she was Jennifer Padden, a smart girl, and a proficient athlete too. She played soccer for the team. Last year they even made it to the semifinals. When she had received a special certificate for displaying excellence as a young woman in an extracurricular field, her parents had been beaming.

But of course, Ms. Perez sympathized, because of that very field, her appetite for a... specific... kind of relief was probably through the roof. It was impossible to just scold a girl for becoming aroused after breaking a sweat, or following a very taxing practice. Especially with someone as thorough as Mrs. Frankfurt writing the itinerary.

Suffice to say, much of the female faculty, the brunt already aware of and sympathetic to the girls' plight, attempted to ease the soccer team's woes by quelling vulgar speculations of their post-practice 'bonus workouts' among students, which were usually accompanied by aimed, obviously sexually suggestive and misguided slurs at the team, and eventually confronting Mrs. Frankfurt about toning down the work weight. Despite their attempts, the hawk-eyed part-European refused to compromise, however. On the coattails of one famously cutthroat state championship victory, it seemed she was intent on ensuring above-average results henceforth, no matter the very obvious, biological side effects it would have on her poor girls' ability to think with their heads instead of their wet undergarments and point-jutting tops. It was more than evident to anyone, simply in the way they would start loudly 'grunting' in 'pain' or 'long, extended cries' after the first hour or so of practice and deliberately start toppling and grinding the space between their legs against their own teammates' legs with each missed swing and uncoordinated tackle (in many cases, trios or quadruple numbers of girls colliding and falling on top of each other as they struggled to disentangle themselves from one another for a suspiciously long, good, wriggling minute) made the whole second half of their training look like awkward, clothed, peg-legged humping orgies. And the real thing was surely even more carnal! She -- Mrs. Frankfurt -- had proclaimed she would not be letting them off easy just because it made their 'mounds a little westward'; in fact, she was well aware of their regular episodes in the changing rooms and even enabled it. The near-middle-aged coach claimed it would provide them a little incentive -- an end-of-day reward that, catalyzed by every girl's single status, an inevitable result of the heavy load they had to deal with throughout the semester, would keep them motivated to stay on-track throughout the day.

(And yet, now, because of supposedly debilitating performance at practice, she's gone to pushing them even harder as a result. For what possible reason their results may be declining, it didn't take a rocket scientist to unearth...)

The other teachers had walked off that day thinking the woman was out of her mind, and maybe a bit radical.

Apparently, the nickname she had been given early in her career -- 'Frankfurt Frost' -- didn't just come out some bloke's hair-filled ass. And she reportedly froze anyone she heard utter it to ****, too.

So it was all a relatively sticky situation. But they had to cope with it somehow.

As expected, rumor was quick to spread. This period was already dubbed 'PMS-time' by high school smart alecks, which stood for Pussy-Moaning-Sex Time. Soon, even a video leaked out. The perpetrator was caught then promptly suspended, the video pulled. But the exposure it created was already yielding the harvest, and further disarray.

And now this...

Ms. Perez pulled her brow down in a stern glare as she stumbled back to the present.

This was exploitation at its most unacceptable!

"Mr. Dinger," the attractive teacher collected the papers and set them on a nearby desk. She now held her hips with her hands, standing coated in fiery, judiciary intent. Turning, the balding teacher under said fire, and who had been standing over the shuddering young Jennifer like she was a frog to be very meticulously dissected, shifted just enough to reveal that even his hairy 'ol flogger was out of his trousers singing as in-your-face as a mating ritual could get, and rigidly erect. The gall of this man was incriminating. It would go no further! Continuing fervently, Ms. Perez declared, "Leave that girl, immediately! As a staff member employed by this school, I will have you know that if you do not do so right now, I will -- "

Suddenly, the man held up a hand, gazed apologetically forward, and began to speak. The young Ms. Perez looked on halfway between shock and musing skepticism at the calm eyes looking back at her. As if any word to come out of this explicitly exposed dirtbag's mouth would somehow magically rescind the situation. She dropped a hand to her pocket, her casual trousers under her sleeveless, buttoned blouse making little noise as she clutched her phone.

"You'll what?" Mr. Dinger grinned, and suddenly his younger, fellow teacher felt an odd aura emanate from him. Even with his comically raised brow. "Let me guess. If I don't move away from her, you will voluntarily strip down to your sexy, skimpy underwear and ruthlessly tease me with your sexy body like a professional model? Was that your plan?"

A momentary silence sat between them. When the proverbial tumbleweed rolled out of the way, Ms. Perez cocked her head and folded her arms testily.

"That's right. Precisely what I intend to do." Another silence passed. "Well?" she asked, her whisper blanketed in a threatening undertone. "And what does our ever sharp, thin lipped history teacher plan on doing?"

Mr. Dinger only retained his gaze on the teacher, as Jennifer seemed to lay in mental limbo upon his desk, half-conscious of her surroundings, the faint smell of womanly sex suspended in the air. One of her legs was draped over it, the whole side, Ms. Perez curiously observed, looking blanched and glossy.

Finally, once a few ticks of the clock had passed, Ms. Perez unfolded her arms.

"Very well then." She lifted her hands to her blouse and pressed the top button through its slit with her fingers, causing her collar to casually split open. Afterward, she swiftly moved to the second button down. "You choose to dig your own grave, Henry." Pop, released the second button. She shifted the weight of one leg to the other, and sultrily parted her lips while giving Mr. Dinger a sizzling, edgy glare. Then she jutted out a hip, pressed her palm against her chest and felt down the top curvature of her breast with a splayed hand. "I'll just have you know," she rocked the cage, noticing the man's hard, throbbing erection. That shameless erection and even more shameless grin were doubtlessly a result of the currently blood-pumping act she was putting on that moment, which, she noted with a triumphant smirk, indicated everything was currently proceeding as planned. At that thought, her eyes quickly moved to Jennifer at the desk. Hang in there, girl, she silently spurred. Then, with a barely visible breath she continued, "I do have very sexy, skimpy underwear on, underneath these frilly obstacles..."

sizzle

"...and an even sexier body."

Unbuttoning all the buttons of her blouse, her hands then proceeded to the bottom of her top. Seductively she began slipping it off of her torso, her hair bunching against the mesh of the fabric as she pulled it away and revealed an overtly small, triangular shaped bra, strapped to her body with but strings small enough to pluck. It barely covered her whole areolae, and she smirked at Mr. Dinger's lewd ogling of her fine endowments.

"Like what you see?" she asked, posing a little.

"Very," nodded Mr. Dinger, who'd begun stroking his cock with his hand.

"Mmm." Looking down at her pants with a pout, Ms. Perez coyly tapped her chin, as if enraptured in thought. Then she glanced back up at the older man. "You poor thing. You must be so hard looking at my hot body right now. But you haven't even seen my ass, for pete's sake! At least, not in the flesh. Hold for one minute..."

The Latina teacher turned, positioning her back to him. Then as promised, she stuck her fingers into her waist and dropped her trousers, shimmying out of them. Her hips wiggled as she did, and what Mr. Dinger was presented with was a pair of sweet, firm buttcheeks to gawk at hardily. He noticed a thin string of fabric consumed between them, and grinned. He could tell the G-string she had on was probably a size or two smaller than it needed to be, and his hand tended his shaft with a slightly quickened pace at the notion of a hot woman such as her wearing something like this underneath her otherwise casual, inconspicuous attire.

"Oh." A giggle came from above. Mr. Dinger looked up to see her face turned towards him from her bent over position, hand over her mouth. "Looks like someone is very happy to see me." She balled her hand and placed it against her chin impishly. "Am I right?"

Mr. Dinger grunted. "You are." She was. And that was as honest, and down from the heart an answer as you'd get. "You are very sexy, Sylvia."

"Why, thank you."

"Ms. Perez? " The slightly ruffled voice from behind them drew their attention away from one another. Jennifer was adjusting herself against the desk, her eyes still tinged with slight sexual hunger as she looked from one adult to the other, eyes blinking. "Um, are you two..."

"Jennifer," Mr. Dinger eyed the girl, "you must be so massively turned on right now from the display Ms. Perez is giving, aren't you?"

Suddenly the girl's eyes pulled downward and dilated. Her fingers slowly traveled back down to her pussy and began rolling her tips against her clit, while her other hand lightly began pushing the dildo back through the still moist folds. She nodded at Mr. Dinger, saying yes in barely a whisper.

Ms. Perez raised an eyebrow, suddenly suspicious of the girl's primal behavior. "Jennifer, talk to me. Are you okay? Did Mr. Dinger **** you, or make you consume anything? Anything at all?"

Gyrating her hips once more, Jennifer only managed, "I'm--I'm sorry, Ms. Perez! It's not any of that... I'm just... I'm just..." Eyes wandering down the older woman's body, she couldn't help but let a moan escape her lips. "...god I'm such a slut!"

"Don't feel too bad, dear," Mr. Dinger comforted the once-projected salutatorian, "after all, in this school, every hot female teacher such as Ms. Perez here has agreed that offering extra credit in exchange for a nice old-fashioned carpet-munching session, or, for the adventurous young man, good old penetrative sex -- behind the scenes of course -- was a great way to boost scores in their classes while also letting loose every once in a while. Sometimes the stress calls for some pushback after all. Isn't that correct, Ms. Perez?"

Blushing, Ms. Perez blinked and looked away, her body straightening casually while she still didn't bother to cover herself up. "Er, well, y-yes... yes, that's right. We do that." She twisted her neck back to Mr. Dinger. "But th-that's nothing like what you're doing now, with her! Because, well, the way we do it is, um... transactional, and... well..."

Mr. Dinger chuckled while the young teacher fought to make herself seem the lesser of two evils here, amused by just how sexually twisted Jennifer and, to a possibly more than equal extent, the now also half-naked Ms. Perez had been made and within so short of a time. He unconsciously rubbed the golden band around his finger once again, sun beginning to sink in the distance as his lips pursed.