Regretfully, no.

It is almost impossible to ignore the throbbing of your cock, but you refuse to let these spoiled sisters ruin your chance to return to what you love!

"No deal, Miss Mathewson." You tell her as you pull her off your arm. "You and your sister are going to have to deal with the consequences of your vandalism."

"Wait." Grace tries again, "A blow-job! I'll suck your cock Mr. Carter, you can cum in my mouth." You see the look of disgust on Sally's face; no matter how this turns out, the relationship between these two sisters is going to change. "Please Mr. Carter, I'll do anything you want, just keep Sally out of this." God, you have to stop Grace before she offers you something you won't be able to resist. The idea of having this slender teen with her legs wrapped around your hips as you fucked her tight pussy is almost enough to make your resolve crumble. Almost.

"Get going, young lady." You push the pair of redheads out the door without another word. The sexual frustration is feeding the initial anger you felt when you first saw the spray paint on your bedroom wall; that anger is the only thing that keeps you from turning around and dragging these small-breasted teens back to your bed.

In the three or four minutes it takes to get to the Mellon building, you are able to calm down at least a little, but the hard bulge in your pants is still as stiff as ever. At least the two students are no longer fighting (or bargaining) for their freedom, walking in silence before you. In spite of your best intentions to reclaim your life you realize that you may have already gone too far by ordering the pair to use their shirts to clean up their mess. Damn it! And damn these sassy redheads that got you in this mess in the first place.

Finding the Dean of Students office was as easy as following the map. A recently polished name plate marks the office and before you could change your mind you knock briskly on the door. The blond man who answers the door is younger than you were expecting, at least ten years younger than you, but with the stern demeanor that you would expect from a disciplinarian.

"Are you the Dean of Students?" You ask, a little confused by the damp t-shirt with smudges of dirt that he is wearing.