Teacher's Lounge

"Hey, Mr. Thomas, sorry about your disease." "Mr. Thomas, I'm a virgin." "I'm not a virgin, but my sister is." "I'm ovulating."

The crowd had attempted to draw my attention away. Some tried Cathy's technique of stripping off their clothes. Others tried to grope me. One girl managed to pull my pants down and was getting ready to suck my unerect cock when Superintendent Callow stepped in.

"That's enough," she yelled, pulling up the sucking offender. "You cannot physically or sexually **** a teacher, regardless of his disease. I'll let this incident slide, but any more attacks on Mr. Thomas's person without his consent will be met by the swiftest penalties. Cover yourself up, Miss Jones, O'Hara, Leo, Mei, and Tompkins. Mr. Thomas just had sex with your principal, so he has almost three hours to decide on his next partner. Everyone, give him space so he can decide and enjoy lunch."

My boss's boss nodded at me and slipped me a note. It listed her phone number, address, and had a crude drawing of a penis in a vagina. She sauntered away after the crowd dispersed.

Nurse Fredericks and I made our way through a few stragglers to the teacher's lounge. "That was crazy," she said, leaning in very close and invading my personal space. "The three hour thing is just an upper limit. It's actually a little healthier to fuck more often than that."

I put some distance between her and I, before she got the hint. "There's some paperwork you'll need to sign, and I have some literature for you. Although, I'm not sure how much is applicable, since you're not a graduating student and don't live with family. There's also a new app for your phone, from HHS, to help track your fucks and keep a three-hour timer."

"If you want, you can sleep at my house. My husband won't mind, and we can invite my sisters and..."

"Go away, please."

She stared blankly for a moment, but left me to collect my thoughts. It wasn't long before other teachers came into the lounge. "Jesus Christ, John, I knew you were young, but not young enough to get the sex teen disease," said Bob Flanagan, civics teacher.

"Bob, they're getting older ones now. Haven't you seen the news?" asked his wife, Tricia, an English teacher.

The head of the mathematics department, Ronald Lehi, butted in, "We had an EDP at a high school I taught twenty years ago. He fucked the entire cheerleading squad at halftime."

"Oh, right, I think I saw that one online," said Talia Lyman, art teacher.

I let the teachers talk around me, painfully aware that Talia and Tricia took the seats next to me. Talia handed me my marked sandwich from the fridge and a freshly bought Dr. Pepper, my favorite. Tricia had her hand on my thigh "discretely" and was working her way up.

"What are you going to jack him off, Trish?" laughed Bob at his wife.

"Shut up," she said with a smile. "Only if he wants to. Do you want that, John?"

"I just want to eat alone." Her hand went off your thigh, but the women refused to vacate their seats. I ate in silence to their deafening stares.

Ronald turned the TV on, and plugged his laptop into it. After a few minutes, he found what he was looking for. Lo and behold, at Homecoming 1998 in some northern Nevada school, four cheerleaders were being fucked in the middle of a crowded high school stadium by one skinny pimply boy.

"You gonna do this for homecoming next year, John?" asked Bob.

"I, I don't think so." The boy was skilled, and the video very graphic. Three of the now-nude cheerleaders were obviously pregnant. Oh, right...

Pregnancy. EDPs lead to local upticks in population figures. I recalled this figure from college statistics, and how you could use forensic population data to factor in the prevalence of EDPs in ancient civilizations. These upticks weren't caused by the EDPs' promotion of libertine values, although that did occur, but because they literally conceived hundreds or, in some cases, thousands of children.

I had probably conceived a child with Principal O'Halloran. And I would likely conceive children with anyone I fucked. I stopped eating my sandwich. "What's wrong, John? Are you feeling okay? Do you need to fuck my ass?" a concerned Talia asked.

"I just need to use the restroom." I went into the private, one-person teacher's bathroom, and the two women wrestled briefly to try to join me. I let in Tricia to Talia's dismay. She's probably my closest friend amongst the teachers.

She sat down smiling as I urinated and washed my hands. "Do you want to fuck now?" she asked.

"Maybe," I began. "If I were to fuck you right now, without a condom, and conceived a child, how would you feel about that?"

"Don't worry about it, John. I always wanted children."

"How would Bob feel about me knocking you up?"

"He's a good guy. He doesn't hold grudges. Besides, he and you get along fine. So, are we going to do this or not?"

I sighed.

Bob and Talia leaned against the door. "It sounds like Trish is sucking him off. Wait, no, they're definitely fucking on the sink or something. Yeah, that's her definite orgasmic scream," a proud Bob announced. "Ugh, I should be in there," an upset Talia added.

I was indeed fucking Tricia Flanagan on the sink, her panties removed and her breasts exposed on my order. I knew her husband had to be just outside the door, and I was determined to test the limits of this situation. Tricia was very loud, and very eager to please. Holding off on sex had drenched her panties and made for a much enjoyable fuck, albeit only my second.

I came quickly, but not as quickly as her, and true to my word, erupted as deep as possible into her womb. She jumped down uneasily, and before giving us time to clean up or dress, opened the door.

*Flash* came a sound from Bob's phone as he took a picture of his wife, her shirt open, breasts pulled over her bra, and bottomless leaking her and my fluids, and myself in the process of pulling up my pants. "You two lovebirds have fun?"

"Bob, I just impregnated your wife."

He looked at me and shrugged. "Yeah, I know." He helped Tricia readjust her clothing and clean the sink.

The smell of sex permeated the air, but I didn't care. That smell would permeate through the rest of my life. Fucking Mrs. Flanagan had the benefit, however, of prolonging my need for more sex until after school, meaning that for today, at least, I could focus on teaching and not fucking.

I left the lounge to go to my classroom, to prepare for the after lunch courses.