There's a rustle on your desk and you see a piece of paper materialize before you. It says something in Spanish, but you never managed to learn much more besides burrito and cajones.
You look up and remember that she expects some answer from you.
"Ms. Gomez, what does this mean?" You point down at a sentence on your piece of paper. (As she reads it, the letter wobble and you come to realize that it says 'Look at my throbbing cock, it aches for your touch.') You nervously look up at her to see her narrow her eyes, then glance down at the bulge in your pants.
She smiles mischievously and leans in close, her tightly packed breasts surging towards you. "Ay, Caramba! You are a naughty one, mijo. It looks like you should stay after class so we can figure out what to do with you." As she saunters off, you wonder if she's going to throw your butt to the principal -- but mainly you wonder at her butt in that short skirt. Could it be any more perfect?
The bell rings and everyone leaves except you. Ms. Gomez shuts and locks the door, then turns and faces you. With a wicked smile she walks over to you unbuttoning her blouse -- her boobs straining against a lacy black bra.
"So you wanna play games, Mister? I can play games."
"Uhhhh, OK," you sputter.
She pushes you back into your chair and unzips your pants. You jump with excitement as she pulls your hard-on out. She smiles at the size and firmness, licks her full lips, and gives you a sultry expectant stare.
"Ay, Caramba!" she sighs.
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