Brenda goes to class.

Brenda made it back to school just in time for her afternoon class, sliding into her seat as the bell rang. Her friend Nadia gave her a grin and a wink from the next desk, and Laurel smiled knowingly at her. They were the only two girls in her history class that were part of her babysitting enterprise, and she knew they guessed where she'd been, if not necessarily with who. She smiled at them and opened her text, turning her attention to Mr. Weaver as he started talking about the Civil War.

She let her attention drift as he spoke. She knew most of this stuff already from her own reading. She was a good student, and read and studied widely on her own. Had the scholarships she aimed at not been pulled by some stupid squabble between the donor and the school, she'd have had no need to branch out into her business. But then, she told herself, she wouldn't be having anywhere so much fun.

Her eyes followed Mr. Weaver as he paced in front of the class. He was younger than most teachers, only a few years out of college. He was handsome in a kind of rumpled, boy next door way, and Brenda found herself wondering what he'd be like in bed. She knew he was married, and had a very young child. She felt a flutter in her tummy as she idly wondered if he ever needed a baby sitter.

She smiled to herself and bit the end of her pencil. Of course it didn't matter if he had a child. Some of her best customers didn't have kids, or their kids were grown well past the age for needing a sitter. What they needed was a tight young teen who would fuck and suck them, letting them remember what it had been like to be young.

Young, dumb and full of come, she thought with a silent giggle. Not so much different from some of the girls she'd recruited. Some of them, like Laurel were very bright. Others, like Denise and Diana were airheaded bimbos who would have been giving it away if she hadn't got them involved. Denise particularly was a complete slut, and the almost living embodiment of the dumb blonde, but there was no denying that she was popular with her customers, and she certainly loved men.

Mr. Weaver was winding up his lecture now, and Brenda found she had unconsciously pressed her thighs together, squirming slightly as she had daydreamed. He looked like he'd be fun, she thought, as he assigned homework and the bell rang to end class.