No

Miss Fulton doesn’t seem to notice as she walks closer. “We’ve got some real spoiled brats, but most of them are ok.” She puts her hands on your desk and leans in. “Between you and me, the main problem is that they’re such horny little bitches,” she says in a lower tone.

“You don’t say,” you reply as Elizabeth tries to move her tongue around your shaft.

“I remember once last year one of the girls handed in an assignment, but she’d gotten it mixed up with some erotic poetry she’d written. About me,” she chuckles. “Very explicit. Quite well written, too. I suppose all the schoolgirl crushes will be aimed at you men, now.”

You look her up and down appreciatively, imagining Elizabeth’s tongue in her pussy instead of wrapped around your cock. “Not all of them,” you say. “You’re the kind of woman who inspires a lot of poetry, I bet.”

She smiles. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Sharp,” she says, straitening back up. “Still, no problem with your classes?”

“Just keeping a friendly but firm hand,” you say. Keeping your hips still is becoming tougher as you feel Elizabeth trying to draw breath around your cock and as you begin to feel her nails in your leg as she grips tighter and tighter.

“Not the disciplinarian Mr. Hawkfeather is, then?” she says, turning to leave. “He’s a hard man, Mr. Hawkfeather. Very, very hard. Still, a girl likes some discipline, sometimes.”

“I can be a hard man when I have to be, Miss Fulton,” you say, trying to keep the tension out of your own voice.

“I’m sure you can, Mr. Sharp, I’m sure you can. But the hardest man still needs some…release, sometimes,” she says as she walks out the door.

She turns and leans her head back in. “Oh, I almost forgot. I said we could do something today, maybe. Do you have plans for dinner?”