Third Period Art

I had neglected to take art for my final year of high school, mostly because the only art teacher we had was a major perv and my hoped-for girlfriend at the time, Gwen, didn't want to take his classes after he had surreptitiously hit on her. The entire school pretty much boycotted him, and he was out of a job. They hired a new teacher a couple months ago, a young woman who was also my neighbor, although I hadn't really formally met her yet.

"Hello, John!" said Miss Heather Winslow cordially as I waltzed into her class uninvited. I looked at the screen, which showed a clear shot of Principal Mathis being double-teamed by two new football players, and smiled. The AV club must've taken over recording the activities. I looked away and focused on Miss Winslow, feeling under her shirt and pinching and teasing her breasts as she stood there silently.

I looked at the class, who had been focused on the TV screen but had now turned to focus on me molesting their teacher. They sat around easels and were apparently painting a still life of an apple and some bananas.

"This is fucking boring," I said, grabbing the apple and taking a bite. "Turn that fucking thing off," I said, as someone merely muted the old principal's loud moans. Close enough. We could still hear them in the distance.

I sat down at Miss Winslow's chair and looked at the class, many of whom seemed almost scared at my presence. "Let's do some nudes!" I shouted to no one in particular.

I picked out who I wanted and did a fake "eeny meeny miney moe," before realizing I had miscounted and just picked Sarah Rundle out of the blue. She gulped. The highly devout Christian daughter of a Reverend to a non-denominational Church that was the most god-fearing in town (and this is suburban Los Angeles we're talking about), she was the least likely to want to be involved in any of this. And, therefore, I thought, the most forbidden fruit, as I took another crisp bite of my apple.

She was shaking as she stripped. Subtly crying even. I found it fascinating as I stood up and invaded her personal space. Women were enthusiastic about fucking me, except for her. Her mind was bonkers, I imagine, trying to reconcile her beliefs with my needs. Her wishes against my desires. I licked her face, her tears, and smiled widely, as she responded with a meek smile herself.

Her stripping was much too slow, I decided, as I pushed her onto the bench holding the still life, sending the basket and the bananas tumbling to the floor. I ripped off her panties and did my best for her bra, stretching it beyond its breaking point before Miss Winslow handed me a pair of scissors that made short work of the remaining constraints.

I slid my hand up Sarah's thigh, caressing her firm ass, sliding my other hand towards her mid-size breasts. She was tall, almost supermodel in height and looks, not that her frumpy clothing ever did her any favors. I felt the inside of her pussy. Dripping wet, much like her face, I realized as I made that observation verbally.

"Yes," she responded. "I'm a sinner."

"Fuck yeah, you are!" I said, as I bent down to grab one of the fruits that we had spilt. "Yet, you're still a virgin," I said, feeling what I assumed was the obstruction of her hymen. "As much as I'd like to rip that away from you myself," I began, "I think Mr. Banana here should do the honors."

I shoved the unpeeled banana into her pussy without restraint, as she screamed out in pain. The class and teacher looked in horror, as I felt bad. "Paint!" I yelled out, as they all began painting what they saw while I began fucking Sarah with Mr. Banana.

I soon became a little too hot-and-bothered in my pants again, and tossed aside the red banana, as I pulled out my dick and plugged it into the disaster area. She may have been numb or just in shock, as she seemed to react hardly at all to the intrusion of my slightly less curvy cock. I fucked a few more pumps into her, before filling her up with my patented graduation present. I bent down to her broken body, her face reddened with tears from both emotional and physical torment and gave her a gentle kiss. "Thanks," I said, as I pulled off the crucifix around her neck, breaking the chain, before tossing it into the trash. "That cross means nothing, Sarah. I am your one true god," I whispered, as she nodded in agreement? Fear? I just smiled and stood up.

The bell rang as I made my way to the exit. Fourth Period. Lunchtime. I think I'll eat in the Teacher's Lounge.