Old Mr. Hollings

I walked to the Teacher's Lounge ready to eat something after the craziness of Art Class. Whispers were abound in the halls as students seemed almost fearful of me. Some of the women gave me "come hither" looks, but I could sense that they wanted to avoid me on some level.

As I waltzed into the Lounge, I frowned that it was mostly deserted. I had arrived, perhaps, too early. Mr. Hollings, my geography teacher, was eating at a table with a newspaper, and awkwardly smiled at me as I approached.

"Dreadful news," he said, politely, as I grabbed his lunch and pulled it over to me. I had already finished my red banana and tossed it near the trash, before eating the food Hollings had prepared.

"Good sandwich", I replied. "Who made it?"

"My wife," he said, not sure if he wanted to answer truthfully.

Mr. Hollings was probably my favorite teacher. I was a pretty standard C student, not for lack of intelligence, but lack of motivation. Cindy was valedictorian a couple years back, and an immense overachiever, academically, and I guess I rebelled against that idea. The comparisons between her and I were frustrating, and I fought back against them when made. She was never Miss Popularity, so I didn't have her old friends to contend with, but the teachers all loved her.

But Hollings was the only one who never made any comparisons, as far as I could tell, and challenged and pushed me in his class, and I was doing quite well. Still, I skipped it today in order to fuck around with Miss Winslow. And I just remembered that Mr. Hollings, despite being in his fifties or sixties, had a smoking hot wife, who worked at the Junior High a couple blocks away.

"Give me your phone," I said, which he handed over without hesitation. I laughed as I flipped the old thing open, but frowned when he had a PIN lock screen on it. "What's your code?"

"3579," he said, without missing a beat, as he took a bite of his sandwich.

I looked through Mr. Hollings phone, checking out his photos on a whim as my eyes grew wider. The thing was full of naked photos of Mrs. Hollings. "Jesus Christ, man..." I said, at a loss for words.

"You found those quick," he said, laughing a tiny bit.

There were images from all angles, all positions. She was sucking what I assumed to be his cock. Riding him cowgirl style. Jerking him off. There was another woman and...

"That's her twin sister. We have threesomes when she's in town. Sometimes I just fuck her independently, too. She always had trouble getting a boyfriend, poor girl," he continued eating his sandwich as I found out this Mr. Rogers type was a bigger sex hound than I could ever imagine.

I gave her a call. "Hi Sweetie," said Esmeralda Hollings in a subtle Mexican accent, probably eating lunch from her desk at the Junior High.

"Hey," I said, in what I assume was a surprisingly unexpected voice. "I'm John Doe and I'm an EDP eating lunch with your husband. Send me a picture of your tits." I put the phone on speaker as I set it down. Sure enough, she texted a picture of her with her shirt down and bra off, with the chalkboard in the back. Her luscious orbs visible for anyone in the lunchroom to see. Who knows what the kids made of that.

"You like?" she said, a little more allure in her voice now that she knew who she was speaking with.

"I do," I replied, showing the picture to her husband, who smiled at the shared appreciation of her naked breasts. "I want you to take off the rest of your clothes and then come here to fuck me." I didn't think through how she was going to get out of her Junior High School, then probably walk the couple of blocks it took between campuses, across city streets, all while completely nude in the daytime. Oh well.

But just then, my thoughts were interrupted as Miss Rebecca Greene, World History teacher, walked into the room. She paused and smiled as she recognized me as the student from this morning's announcements. Then she pulled out her phone.

"Good afternoon, my beauties..." began Miss Greene as she held the camera before her naked body, her breasts bouncing back and forth as she was clearly being fucked, "Don't you hate it when an EDP forces you to fuck someone, but then won't stop distracting you from your orgasm?"

I fondled her breasts some more, mostly for the camera, as I gave it a thumbs up when she pointed it in my direction. The short Tik Tok was over, but the fucking continued, as Mr. Hollings diligently fucked this young teacher to my order. I was the only one dressed in the room, as it continued to being filled up by teachers, each whispering my directive that they remove their clothes, if they were female, or leave, if they were not. Mrs. Hernandez and Miss West were making out on the couch. No, scratch that. Miss West was sliding down and now eating out Mrs. Hernandez. Elsewhere, Mrs. Idleman and Ms. Winslow were getting to know each other by the refrigerator. Even old Nurse Thompson, alone on the counter next to the sink, looked inviting as she spread her legs and massaged her inner folds beneath the light gray hair of her bush. Her student assistant from that morning, Janice I believe was her name, came into view with a vibrator and began assisting the nurse, as she jilled herself off. The entire Teacher's Lounge was my own fuck lounge, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Mrs. Esmeralda Collings was soon in the doorway, undoubtedly with stories to tell of her nude hike to get here, and smiled at the sight to be held. She did not worry about her husband pistoning into a slightly younger educator. No, she was laser-focused on me, licking her lips as she spotted my erection, somehow, beneath my pants. I went up to her and began making out, my hands groping and prodding all her deepest recesses, before we were rudely interrupted.

"Johnny!" said my mother, standing behind Mrs. Collings in worry. Her heart sank, as did mine, when I realized she had caught me going a little hog wild with my new disease. Ms. Winslow whispered into my mother's ear, and she soon nodded and began stripping down. To my delight.