2nd class - English (Deprecated)

(While working on the next chapter, I realized I kind of violated the setup of this thread line. It's supposed to be 'porn logic,' not 'everything is porn,' and generally "everyone randomly masturbating for no reason and without explanation" doesn't really fit the bill. I am going to leave this up if anyone wants to follow up on it, but I am doing a rewrite and following on from there, assuming I can get past writer's block.)

As soon as the bell range, the cum-covered cheerleader immediately pulled out her phone and called someone, not caring about the drying cum getting on it when when she put it to her ear. I followed Amir out of the room, almost running into wall next to the door trying to keep an eye on her as she gathered her things and left the room, not minding her appearance in the least. After avoiding face planting into the wall, I looked back again, trying to find her in the crowd as she followed us into the hallway. I had lost track of her for about 10 seconds, and had trouble finding her again, because the cum on her face was gone and she was wearing a similar but obviously different and entirely clean cheerleader outfit when I finally located her, talking on what I could swear was not the same phone model.

"I can't believe that happened," I commented to Amir.

"Are you on **** or something?" he replied, only half joking and giving me a worried look. "You've been acting weird all morning."

"I've been acting weird?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah," he replied, giving me worried look as he casually dodged people in the hallway. "First you are acting like you can't remember tons of things, then you nearly walked into a wall. Be honest, man: are you on something? Did your sister maybe get you try something at that party you were bitching about Saturday night?"

"What? No!" I replied indignantly. "Come on, you think I would..."

"Look, just saying, you said you feel ok, but you ain't acting like it," he stated as we approached our 2nd period room.

"What's up, homeys," our friend Jennifer asked as she sidled up next to us. Amir rolled his eyes at her fake ghetto accent; the petite Asian teen couldn't pull it off, but kept trying.

"I think Johnny boy might be one something," Amir replied.

"Dude, I swear I didn't take anything!" I countered.

"You been acting wired all morning," Amir repeated, listing off a few things (in a very skewed manner, like 'was asking where Jun was as if she should be in high school').

"For real?" she replied incredulously. She grabbed my head and pulled me down to inspect, despite my objections. "No signs of head injuries. I'd believe that way more than mr. goody-good taking anything."

"Cut it out!" I said as I pulled away from her. We all sat down, towards the front of the classroom as usual, the pair of them on either side. I nearly tipped when I noticed that the usual triple-wide desks and bucket seats had been replaced with simple benches. There were no writing surfaces, but no one but me seemed to care,

"Alright, good morning, class," Mr Amundson said. He was one of the younger teachers, just out of teaching college. My eyes widened as I noticed he looked much more buff than he had last week, as if he worked out really hard reguarly. He had never been out of shape, but now he had pretty large muscles and an obviously defined chest, obvious because unlike his usual dress shirt and slacks, he was instead in a bodybuilding leotard.

"Good morning, Mr. Amundson," the class parroted back. I was too distracted to say anything; Amir nudged me and raised his eyebrows.

"Alright, let's continue our exploration of different short story genres," he said, handing a sheaf of printouts to the front row to be passed back.

I noticed Jennifer shifting a bit next to me, and glanced over curiously, accepting my own handout as the pile passed us. She spread her legs wide, popped the buttons on her jeans, opened her fly, then slid her left hand into her panties and began obviously frigging herself. My head whipped around, and everywhere I looked, the girls in class were playing with themselves. Those in jeans had them opened in the front like Jennifer, while those in skirts had them flipped up and panties pulled to the side. A few girls (including all the replacement students) seemed to be going commando, giving me an even better view. Every pussy I could see was bare, and those in front of me were also obviously doing it too. None of the boys seemed to be paying any attention to the girls right next to them jilling off, and everyone was otherwise just reading over the handout, the girls all doing it one handed occasionally pulling their other hand from their pussys to turn a page before going right back at it. Rather than sit at his desk and wait 10 min for us to read the handouts as usual, Mr. Amundson had stepped to the side and was running through various poses to show off his muscular body, with a number of the girls glancing up occasionally and a few licking their lips. I was uncomfortably aware that he had a huge dick, which the outfit thoroughly outlined.

"All right, I hope everyone had a chance to get through that," he suddenly said, moving to the board but still flexing even as he picked up the whiteboard marker. As he did, a variety of moans, gasps, the occasional loud cries of 'Fuck', 'cumming', or just 'YESSSS' rang out, as every girl in the class came at once, again not drawing any other attention from the boys or each other. I realized I had spent 10 min looking around the room and hadn't even glanced at the handout. All the girls just kept playing with themselves as the teacher began talking about the themes of the story.

"... And what do we all think of how the story ended?" Mr. Amundsen said, turning back to the class. "Compare it to the stories we have read before... Amelia," he continued, calling on one of the girls who had her skirt up and whose fingers I could see sawing rapidly in and out of her gash. I completely tuned out her answer.

"Nice analysis. Would anyone care to contrasts this with the Heinlein story from last week?" he added.he gave it a few ticks. "No one... well, if their are no volunteers... John, what are your thoughts on this story compared to that one," he said, looking right at me. My gaze whipped around and I stared like a deer in the headlights. I hadn't even read the title of the 5 page story.