What do you think?

"Mr. Doe..." she begins, as you slink behind the professor with your belongings in tow and your shorts still unbuttoned. "You will not interrupt my class again for one of your silly sexcapades." You smirk at her use of that word, but she stares you down.

"If you must exercise your contest privileges during class, I insist that you do so discretely and out of sight of the rest of the class. I furthermore ask that..."

You interrupt her. "Is it okay if I fuck in your office?"

Her eyebrow raised. "You may fuck wherever you need to. But, yes, I would prefer you to do it in my office if the alternative is the middle of class."

You fish out the ticket, which had been crumpled into your pocket. You uncrumple it, and it is perfectly smooth as you hand it to Professor Claussen. Her eyes narrow in frustration. "Let's fuck!" you shout.

"As you wish, but I need to make a phone call, first. And I believe you just fucked that poor girl in class, so perhaps you want to wait a little while?" She had an indignant smile on her face, but you just slapped the phone out of her hand, which you grabbed and placed on your rapidly exposed cock.

"I suggest you start by getting me hard."

She was pretty diligent, you'd give her that, in her attempts at a handjob. The cold steel of her wedding ring, the slightly longer untrimmed finger nails than what Ana or Dana or your mother possessed, the obviously un-lotioned hand being used, made for a continuing struggle to get you erect. You finally insist she get naked.

"Fine," she said, leaving your genitals and stripping down. It was here you notice the door was still wide open and some students, staying outside, glaring in at yet another sex act. She didn't seem to notice or care. You look at your phone. Optimizing 23 of 14484.

As she rolled down her last article of clothing, silk stockings, you were stunned. She was a fucking supermodel. As she stood, her arms akimbo, you looked her up and down. "Let your hair loose and remove the glasses," she does so, "And... my phone is installing. I- if this is the only time I get to fuck you, I want a picture to remember you by."

She simply stormed out into the busy hallway, asked a student for his phone, and stormed back in. "Here," she said, dropping the stranger's phone in your hand. "Take the pictures and text them to yourself." She stood back and held her hair up, trying actual, fucking, sexy poses.

They weren't sexy enough, though. You ordered her to lie down. Spread her legs open. Bend over. Open her ass. You had every angle, every inch, every dimple, inside and out, covered photographically before the hour was through. And the crowd outside had some interesting perspectives on their phones as well.

As Professor Claussen lay down in a very impressive yoga pose, especially for her height, with her feet almost behind her head, she asked you if you were finished yet.

"I'm going to finish soon," you said, as your cock was erect at the thought of barreling down on this **** woman. She didn't object as she remained in the uncomfortable position when you inserted full throttle into her unprepared pussy.

"Shit," you said out loud, "why is this chafing?" You didn't mind fucking her this way, but both were straining and exhausting yourselves. "Here," yelled some surfer from the crowd as he tossed a bottle of coconut oil. "It works as lube."

You nodded at the unsung hero, and oiled up both your member and the Professor's open cavity. "That's better," you say for the crowd as drive down into Professor Claussen again. "I'll say," she replies, with a sense of relief as you keep fucking her. You go for a few strokes, but the exhaustion is kicking in. You want to finish, quick.

But not before a quick detour into her ass. She begins moaning. Interesting. "Shit," she yells out, in ecstasy. "I'll say," you respond, noticing that she clearly didn't plan on having anal sex that day. Most of the residue is deposited back into her vagina, alongside copious amounts of coconut oil, her own juices from finally enjoying herself, and a fair amount of precum. And now regular cum, as you ejaculate as deep as you can, aided by gravity no doubt, and slap her on the ass as you flop out.

She quickly contorts to normal, and after a moment's hesitation to compose herself. Jumps up and slams the door. She goes behind her desk and, for some reason, has two towels. "Clean yourself up," she says, tossing one towards you, and starting to wipe her own gunk away. Her voice went from husky to annoyance, but she didn't bother to cover up or kick you out yet. As you wipe off the shit, you ask the Professor: "Isn't it illegal to fuck your students?"

She just looked at you like you're an idiot. "It's the contest. You get to have sex with every woman, once. Period. Teacher. Parent. Nun. Prisoner. Congresswoman. It doesn't matter. The Prize Commission is a limited corporation founded in the United Kingdom that by UN treaty has minimal jurisdiction over national laws and academic regulations. We covered this in class last semester."

You were a pretty diligent student when it comes to politics, and this is the first you ever heard of the Prize Commission's history. Something wasn't right. Given your apparent ability towards singular free use sex, accepted against all sorts of reason, something was clearly wrong with how the universe functioned. History had been rewritten. So you decided not to question it anymore.

"Now I hope I made myself clear," she said, before starting to put on those silk stockings she had discarded. "Now get dressed and get the fuck out!"