Take a raincheck

"That sounds amazing, believe me. I'd be happy to take you up on that some other time, but to be honest I just saw Nurse Menendez. Refractory periods and all that."

"That lucky bitch..." Willow mumbles, taking the fingers that were just in your mouth and teasing her glistening clit with them. "Maybe I should go into nursing. Oh well, your loss!"

She turns to leave, but you catch her by the arm.

"While I have you here, I think I'll modify your personal uniform a little bit. Come here."

You drag the naked girl to the nearest classroom; Mr. Barlow's English room, where he's currently grading papers in his free period.

"Do you have any sharpies?"

Mr. Barlow takes one look at you and Willow, nods his approval, and opens the top drawer of his desk, which is absolutely full with permanent markers in every imaginable color. By way of recommendation, he wordlessly selects a sparkly silver one that should pop beautifully against Willow's beautiful dark skin. You take it and turn to her.

"I'm sure you would have anyway, but I only ever want you to wear high heels from now on. I also want your cell phone number written across your chest and lower back. I'll write it for you this time, but you'll have to find someone else later on."

Willow hums a little in appreciation, then leans forward and recites her number for you as you write just below her collarbones. It shines out beautifully, like a constellation against a chocolate sky. Mr. Barlow has a damn good eye for this sort of thing. Once you're done on this side, Willow turns around, puts her hands against the chalkboard, and thrusts her hips out so hard they "accidentally" grind against your crotch for a moment.

You slap her ass once in appreciation before kneeling to write her number again right above the tramp stamp at the top of her butt crack. About halfway through, you're distracted by something shiny just below your focus; a green gemstone is nestled between her chubby cheeks.

"Is this a butt plug?"

"You like it?" Willow nods, spreading her ass to give you a clear view. "I figured it counted as jewelry."

"Oh, it does..."

You watch for a while with hypnotic fascination as Willow uses her sphincter to rhythmically suck the plug in and out. Mr. Barlow, out of professional curiosity, comes over and stands behind you to watch as well, loudly sipping from his coffee mug every few seconds. Eventually, you snap out of it, kiss the pulsing emerald, and finish writing her number.

One quick photograph later, you and Willow go your separate ways.