Orchestral Orgasms

No answer is forthcoming. The girls are blissed out, almost unaware that a question was posed by the principal, and the boys are too conscious of the consequences of a verbal misstep to throw their own thoughts into the ring. They simply look around cautiously, many of them rocking their own hard-ons and surreptitiously touching themselves below their desk.

"Well?!" It's impossible to miss the way that Mrs. Connors is looking at Heather. Beneath all the confusion and all the rage, there's something more earnest and true: genuine care, a protective and impassioned impulse that seems almost motherly. A feeling that can only fuel her rage as Mrs. Stevens continues to mindlessly hump Heather, the two of them locked in the most intense orgasm that they had ever felt.

A thought worms its way into your head, and you decide it might be a fun feeling to take advantage of after you dispense a few more orgasms.

Hands on her wide hips, Mrs. Connors finally yells, "Mrs. Stevens, get up this instant!" You chuckle to yourself, hand brushing your upper thigh as you consider the intentional emphasis Mrs. Connors put on Mrs. Stevens' title.

"UUUUMMMPHHH!" Mrs. Stevens and Heather don't even hear the principle; they're too blissed out on pleasure. They moan and scream, their drenched and glistening bodies contorting together. They bury their faces into each other's bodies to quiet the expression of their arousal, their shapely legs twitching and their abdomens tightening below their jiggling tits as their increasingly intense orgasms continue unabated.

The rest of the girls, burdened by fewer perverted exclamations, are beginning to calm down. Even so, they are still riding the last waves of their orgasms in a mass of moans and sweaty humps.

After grabbing the Rulebook, you stand once more and approach Mrs. Connors, eyeing her up the whole way. She wears a simple white button-up dress shirt that seems to be tailored to show off her MILF-y curves. Her huge bust strains against the smooth fabric, and several buttons are hanging on by a thread. The space between each button is parted due to the tension in the material, revealing glimpses of her pale and buxom bosom. Her waist, pleasantly plump yet thinner than her hips, is accentuated by the tight cut of the shirt that makes it hug her torso as if it's several sizes too small.

Her black skirt is taught against her bubble butt, and comes down to mid-thigh at most. Each angry twitch shakes the exposed, thick thigh, and reveals the slight curvature of lines of cellulite.

In just a few steps you reach her. She glares, having caught your shameless starting on top of everything else, but you simply say, "Hey Mrs. Connors, I think I know what's going on. Heather's bod is just so fuckable that Mrs. Stevens couldn't help herself. It's no biggie."

Mrs. Connors' eyes flash, her body tensing in anger even as she steps forward to greet you in the traditional way. "How dare you say something so-"

Her breath catches. A wet, throaty moan claws it way out of her throat, and a suddenly shaking hand paws at her chest. She continues with her greeting by thrusting her crotch into your thigh and pressing the boob that she wasn't fondling into your side.

"Wha- Ohhhh..." she breathes out. You freeze in place as she squirms against you for a moment, feeling her snatch heating up on your leg as her satisfying orgasm continues.

Well, not getting in trouble for an outburst apparently didn't apply there since she got pissed, so you can only thank your lucky stars that your orgasm command prevented your **** so quickly and efficiently.

She starts to pull back, panting. You realize that the sounds in the room have become a little more muted and whispered as the girls question their pleasure, though Mrs. Stevens and Heather are still at it in the front.

You quickly wave to indicate the whole room and shout out, "Damn, your cunt was as hot as these sluts."

Mrs. Connors' expression twists once more as another guttural moan tears itself out of her mouth. Her whole body spasms so hard that a button pops off her shirt, revealing a deep valley of pushed-together, creamy cleavage jiggling under an orgasmic onslaught. She falls forwards, her legs giving out on her, and unintentionally humps your leg.

"Jesus!"

"Ahhh-Ah-Ohhhh!"

"Nah...nah... not a-again!"

"Fuuuuuuuck!"

The rest of the girls yell out in pleasure, and your eyes roam around the room as their bodies spasm and jiggle, the most intense orgasm of their lives washing over them. Girls in skirts barely managed to stay in their seats, their legs splayed and straightened on top of their desks as they lean back. To your right, Natalie's boobs shake with her motions, the arm holes that had caught your attention earlier leaving them almost entirely exposed from the side.

In the front of the room, Mrs. Stevens' wet, tight clothes hug her curves, and her exposed and glistening breasts bounce erratically as she cries out yet again. Beneath her, Heather lets out a weak grunt and simply continues to convulse, her naked body jiggling despite her apparent fatigue. Your eyes roam, taking in bouncing busts, clenching thighs, and scrunched-up faces at every turn. The guys are still largely shell-shocked, frozen in place or stroking their crotches beneath their desks.

Your eyes land on Allie, and you focus on the way her large, light-brown boobs shake enticingly while her panties cling to her thunder thighs. Moving your eyes up, you finally notice that she is staring daggers at you as she thrusts her pink panty clad pussy into her open palm.

What a bitch. Even in the throes of endless pleasure she can't calm her tits.

You feel elated. Powerful. Free and uninhibited.

Allie won't ruin this. No one will.

"Allie, is your slutty cunt feeling all hot and bothered again?"

Her eyes widen as she moans. Her arms tense, and her hips thrust harder into her curling hand.

A rebuke comes from your side in the form of an enraged grunt. Mrs. Connors is getting over-protective and pissed again, clearly taking issue with your language as if she doesn't have bigger fish to fry.

You could write another rule to rectify the situation, but don't feel the need to. Not yet. Instead, you secure the book in one arm and say, "Mrs. Connors, you are one thick MILF."

She falls against you yet again, moaning weakly into your shirt. Her hot cunt presses into your thigh, and you feel her boobs squished against your side. "Fu- Nooo, Ugh, I-I-"

"Shh. There, there." You pat her head as she struggles to speak, then say, "All these sluts look great right now, but you don't need to worry. Your ass is easily the most spankable I've ever seen."

"Fuck! Jesus, I- Uuungh, fuuuck!" Mrs. Connors' normally respectable speech devolves into a series of profane exclamations, pants, and moans as she leans against you for support, her soft legs and chest tight against your own.

"You are a chesty slut. A real cunt I'd like to fuck. If you had milky mammaries everyone would take a long suckle. You'd look good covered in your student's spunk. You should bare that fat ass of yours more often."

With each statement, Mrs. Connors tenses against your side and spasms more and more. By the end, she's openly moaning and humping your leg in **** need as her whole body fills up with unbearable pleasure, all while the surrounding sounds of moans, screams, curses, whispers, and rustling fabric coalesce into a beautiful, sexy music.

Raspy moans are all that can escape her mouth as she cums over and over again. Fluid sprays from and stains her skirt, then trickles down her thighs. Her hands are buried under her skirt, frantically diving into her eager, spasming snatch. Even bombarded by so much pleasure, she is clearly looking out in a sad kind of rage at Mrs. Stevens and the rest of the orgasming orchestra.

With your free hand, you thread your fingers through her hair. Grasping as much as you can by the base, you start to walk towards Allie. Mrs. Connors tries to pull away, but you simply pull harder and say, "C'mon little bitch."

She screams into the floor, her chest heaving and her hips shaking while she barely manages to crawl and slide behind you. Eventually, you get to Allie's desk after passing several exhausted, red-faced women and frustrated, confused guys.

You say, "Whore, you ready for round two?" As you do, you tug on Mrs. Connors' hair with all your might. She manages a lusty yelp as she dives forward and rolls to avoid the intense pain on her scalp.

Mrs. Connors lands in a messy heap by Allie's chair, fluids running down her legs, her skirt askew, her panties soaked through and exposed to the prying eyes of the boys around her. Allie moans above her, humping her hand. She weakly reaches out to grab you, fire suddenly in her eyes, but you simply step back and shout, "Nah, you're a piece of fuckmeat that ain't worth the hassle. All you horny bitches agree, right?"

As the room devolves into yet more moans and screams and titty grabbing, Mrs. Connors' back arches. Her toes curl in her flats as an orgasm once again wracks her body. She's too tired to even make any sound other than hard breathing, and her hand grasps at her soft chest. Out of the corner of your eye you see Mrs. Stevens shakily crawling to her feet even as her hips microscopically thrust against the empty air, her soaked shirt clinging to her bust and her prominent nipples.

The rest of the class continues to be lost in their own hellish bliss. Some of the guys even have wet crotches already, though most are still staring at the room or at the principal's meaty legs shaking on the floor.

Figuring you still have a moment, you sit at your desk and casually flip the Rulebook open. You grab your pencil and write something new under the heading for your school.