It's Smita's turn to shine.

After everybody has had a chance to catch their breath, Smita stands up from her seat, and starts slowly walking towards you, her pleated red skirt swishing around you with each step.

"Sam," she says, her eyes pointed squarely at her crotch, "it looks like you're the only person still wearing pants here!"

You smile in response. "You're right, Smita," you reply. Then, feeling particularly in control right now, you add, "But while I'm teaching the class, you all should refer to me as 'Mr. Anderson', or 'sir'." Tap.

She stops and flushes a little, embarrassed by her faux pas. "Oh my goodness, you're right. I'm sorry, sir," she replies, her words shooting lightning right through your body, down to your dick.

"It's no problem," you assure her. "Come here and help me out." She smiles again, and continues walking up to you. You stand up from your seat as she approaches, and soon the two of you are face-to-face, inches apart from one another. You note that she's angled herself just enough to make sure the rest of the class can get a good view of everything going on. She's a fair bit taller than you, and she looks down into your eyes and smiles widely as her hands move to your crotch. Your jeans are already unbuttoned and unzipped, since you've had your hand in there for some time. She puts one hand on each of your hips, slips her thumbs inside the waistband of your jeans, and slowly bends her knees, pulling your pants down as she does so, revealing your plaid boxer shorts, your cock straining against them. Several small wet spots appear on them, stains from your precum as you watched the last few scenes.

Smita is on her knees now before you, looking at your shorts. "Looks like you've been busy, sir," she giggles, gently placing the palm of her left hand on your member and causing you to let out a small sigh. "But not busy enough." Her hands move down to the leg hems of your boxers, and pinching each with thumb and forefinger, slowly and deliberately pulls them down. The tip of your cock emerges from the waistline, followed by the shaft, and then your balls, tight with excitement, and Smita's eyes hungrily take in the sight -- along, you notice as you glance up at the rest of the class, with everyone else.

She reaches out, intending to grab it, but you shake your head. "Not yet," you say, playfully but authoritatively. She looks up at you, slightly puzzled, and you point at her chest. "Tits first," you explain, smiling.

She smiles back. "Oh, yes sir," she replies. "Sorry, sir." She quickly shrugs off her pink sweater -- having unbuttoned it much, much earlier -- and then her hands quickly move to the hem of her sleeveless white shirt. In one quick motion, she pulls it up and over her head. Underneath, she wears a satin pink bra, matching her earlier panties, with a small black bow directly in the center. She reaches up to that bow, and deftly undoes a clasp hidden behind it: it seems this bra opens from the front, rather than the back. As she does so, the cups fall free, exposing two velvet, cocoa-colored breasts, slightly teardrop-shaped, with small brown nipples at the apex of each. She leans back and lets the bra's shoulder straps fall down and off of her arms, and as she does so, her breasts flatten slightly against her chest, looking for all the world like two fluffy chocolate pancakes adorned by little chocolate chips at the top of each. Then she sits upright again, the tits once again assuming their teardrop shapes, pointing just barely downward.

At the sight of Smita's breasts, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford lean forward in their seats, the two of them slowly, lovingly masturbating each other as they do so. "Oh, honey," Mrs. Crawford says, "you are absolutely gorgeous." Smita blushes at this, her cheeks taking on a slightly redder tinge than usual. Eve continues, "Given the height difference between the two of you, might I suggest a titjob?"

"Oh, that's a great idea," Smita agrees. She leans forward, pushing your hard cock into the cleavage between her soft pillows, and you shudder at the incredible sensation. She begins to rock her ass up and down, stroking your dick with her tits, its head alternately disappearing and reappearing from between the two as she does so. "Do you like it, sir?" she asks you, a deceptively innocent look on her face.

"Oh, god yes," you moan. "Don't stop, please."

"Yes, sir," she says, starting to move a bit faster. She bends her neck down, sticking her tongue out as far as she can, and gently flicks the head of your cock, licking the small bead of precum from the tip. Then she continues to do so each time its within reach.

You scan the room, heart pounding, chest heaving as her silken tits massage you. It seems everyone has decided to follow your lead. To your left, Eve kneels in front of her husband, her large alabaster tits almost totally obscuring his erect member. Next to them, the two girls obviously don't have a cock to stroke, but they're making do by embracing each other tightly, tongues intertwined around each other in an epic kiss, rubbing their erect nipples up against each others' supple titties. Finally, on your right, the girl with the sandy brown hair has removed her own T-shirt, revealing a very flat chest with only small nubbins for breasts. She is attempting to squish them against the boy's cock, but isn't having much luck -- her chest is simply too small to have much of an impact.

You suddenly feel something very wet and warm against your crotch, and look back down. Smita has deepened her thrusts now, and at each downstroke is taking the entire tip of your penis into her mouth. You feel a tiny twitch in your loins, and know it won't be long. "I'm... I'm gonna cum soon," you warn her.

She looks up at you, eyes shining with passion. "Yes, sir," she moans. "Cum all over me, sir. Cum all over my tits and face."

Well, you certainly don't need to be asked twice, as her words catapult you right over the edge. You cry out "oh god", and then fire a load of white cum which hits her directly in the lips. She squints and smiles as each subsequent spasm spits semen onto her chin, then neck, and then finally splashing across the top of her cinnamon tits, contrasting sharply with the darker skin. As you finish, she reaches her left hand to her mouth, brushing the cum off of her lips with her index finger, and then licking the finger off. She proceeds to do the same with the rest of the droplets you decorated her with, savoring each lick.

Then she puts a shiny, wet finger in front of your own face; you blink for a second in confusion, until you realize that it's her right hand, and the smell is unmistakable: it's the smell of her own juices. You stick her finger in your mouth, sucking on it, relishing the salty, musky taste, so very like what you tasted earlier, and yet different in ways you can't possibly describe. The smell and taste overpower you, and something inside of you seems to explode. You slide off of your chair and onto the floor, your cock dislodging from Smita's breasts. You're kneeling on the floor now, facing her.

She looks at you with a mix of curiosity and lust, unsure of what you're planning. "Just so you know, sir," she whispers, "I'm not on birth control right now."

You smile. "That's okay," you say, "I'd need some time to recover anyway. Lay down on your back." She does so, her breasts once again flattening out against her chest. "Now lift your knees, and spread your legs a bit," you order. She complies, her legs angling up, feet flat on the floor. As she does this, the hem of her skirt rises up. You grab it with both hands, and pull it up, over her knees and past her waistline, and she lifts her ass slightly so you can do so. You bend over, laying down on your stomach, feeling the cool, hard tile against your belly and cock. It's amazingly soothing amidst all of this strenuous exercise.

Now your face is mere inches from the pink, shining slit between her legs. She is incredibly wet, and you can see a small, viscous, whitish drip of girlcum collected at the bottom of her vaginal opening. Reaching your hands underneath her bent legs, you grab her hips, and pull yourself forward, causing her to emit a soft gasp. Sticking your tongue out, you start with the collected honey at the bottom of her pussy, and gently work your way up, using it like a scoop to gather up all of her intoxicating nectar. You feel her hips shudder at this in conjunction with her loud moan. "Oh, sir," she sighs, "oh yes, sir, please, please lick my pussy... please, sir, don't stop..."

After a few long, leisurely trips up and down her pink and brown folds, you start going to town. This time, you decide to start with "M", and go from there. Your tongue dances along her silky skin, around her curly black hairs, occasionally flicking past her little pink nubbin at the top of her entrance, each time causing her hips to buck in your hands and a new cry to escape her lips. By the time you get to "S", she is actively thrusting her cunt against your face, panting and moaning and begging you to continue. You hear other cries, sighs, moans, and outright screams from around the room, but with a mouthful of Smita's soaking wet vulva you can't exactly stop to see the cause.

At "V", she cries out, "Oh god, sir, I'm, I'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me cum..." And when you hit the top middle point of "W", she does so, screaming in rapture, her entire ass lifting off of the ground, her crotch pushing hard against your mouth. You open wider and attempt to encompass as much of her pussy as possible, and you can feel it convulse against your tongue. It lasts for a good fifteen seconds or so before her butt hits the ground again. You withdraw your arms from under her legs, and her knees sag to the ground. You rest your cheek on her right hip, smiling, the two of you panting, her from post-coital delight, and you from the surprising amount of work involved -- your tongue aches a bit from contorting so much.

And still, the sounds around you demonstrate quite clearly that the others are still very occupied with their own activities. You resolve to investigate further... after you rest for a minute or two, of course.