I get the 'speed dating' version.

“OK, Miss Miller.” I glance at the digital clock on the microwave and smile in anticipation, “You have two minutes to tell me all about the teachers you've sampled.” I stop her before she even gets started. “Remember I want all the nasty details. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir.” She pauses for a few seconds with a smirk on her face.

“Mr. Williams in American History, Mr. Jackson was my Algebra II teacher last year.” She flips her hair in a pretty good imitation of the slut she is pretending to be. “Oh, that's right ... you want the nasty details. Mr. Williams was easy; I gave him a hand job in the corner of his room until he blew his load all over the back row of desks.” Her little giggle comes out of nowhere. “He had a lot of cum for such a little cock. Not like Mr. Jackson, Sir.” Her hands stretch out about nine inches apart. “It's true what they say about black guys.” This catches me a bit by surprise, but I do my best to hide is as I play along.

“And was Mr. Jackson content with you using your hands on his big black cock?”

“What do you think, Mr. P?” The scorn in her voice almost makes me forget that she's making this all up. “He had me stretched out in the supply closet on an old shop table.” The mental image of Alison's slender pale body being reamed by a huge black teacher is making my cock stiffen even more. “He was the largest I'd had by far back then and it really hurt. Mr. Jackson had to keep his hand over my mouth as he pounded my little white pussy to keep me silent, but I got my A.”

“Let's see ... Mr. Tonaga, the Trig teacher really liked my breasts.” Her hands cup her tits provocatively. “Every time he came to my desk to help me, I pressed them against his arm. He was sweet, Mr. P. A decent man who would never have taken advantage of me without a little push. I finally convinced him that I was falling in love with him and let him be my 'first.' We did it a bunch of times, Sir.” She smiles up at me sweetly. “I was almost sorry when I had to break it up at the end of the year.”

“Anyone else, you little slut?” If Alison is bothered by me calling her a slut, she gives no indication of it. “Hurry up, you only have a minute left.”

“There was a cute Spanish teacher Sophomore year too - I forget his name ... he thought he was God's gift to women, but I liked Mr. Tonaga better. Oh, and Coach Renforth.” She pauses and then goes on like I really know who this man is. “He didn't really help with my grades, but Miss Henderson and him have a thing, and I figured he could put in a good word for me her when she was picking out the cheer-captains.”

“Coach Renforth and Miss Henderson?” I do my best to keep up with this imaginative coed. “Isn't he twenty some years older than her?”

“Oh yeah, Coach likes them young, Mr. Patterson. That's why he was so easy.”