The teacher

The door to the class swung open, revealing a nicely dressed, middle-aged man: Mr. James. Despite his appearance, you knew he was a perv on the inside. You occasionally caught him glacing down Christy's shirt when he came to answer her questions, or glace at her ass as she left the room. He was just another teacher you'd soon forget.

"Oh, hello there Christy!" He said, righting his gaze so as to not make his intention obvious.

Your girlfriend was confused. "{Mr. James? What're you doing here?"

"I'm here to oversee your detention," he informed her. "You've been dressing inappropriately."

Mr. James approached her. "Your boyfriend must be so embarrassed to see you parading yourself around like some sort of whore."

She played along with it. "Alright, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

The man suddenly grabbed one of her tits, squeezing it. "You're damn right it won't."

She moaned a little but focused her mind again. "What are you doing, Mr. James?" He had a purely lustful look in his eyes as he watched Christy. Her shirt was then pulled down, allowing her breasts to hang out in the open. She tried to cover herself but Mr. James restrained her.

"Teaching you a lesson, Christy."