In the Girl's Bathroom
Standard Disclaimer: This is a work of complete fiction. All characters are 18 or older.
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Zoey couldn't stop looking at her phone.
It was getting excessive even for her, the device finding its way into her hand during class, at the dinner table with her parents, between exercises during practice. It had been confiscated three times in the last week, each occasion leaving her positively shaking in terror that one of her teachers would actually see what it was that gripped her attention so obsessively. That would be a disaster of monumental proportions, certain to explode her eighteen-year-long life from top to bottom: Socially, academically, at home. All over.
Thankfully, she was always faster than the teachers, closing out the screen and handing it over without a fuss. She didn't want them to suspect anything. Her social life was complicated enough, now that she and Emma had both slept with Mr. Harlow. Not that Emma knew. Nor did she know how Zoey had gotten their teacher to fuck her, a secret that filled the girl with a confusing blend of shame and desire.
Zoey had recorded Emma and Mr. Harlow fucking, then used said video to blackmail their teacher into fucking her during a volleyball away game. Well, that's not exactly how it went, if she was honest. He'd taken Zoey behind a dumpster and used her body to his satisfaction, recording and taking pictures the entire time, leaving her there naked and face covered in his cum. She'd had to clean up and get dressed, then sneak back into her hotel room, all the while praying her roommate wouldn't wake. Luck was on her side; she even took a shower, heat turned up high, laid down in the tub and let the water wash away the grit on her knees, the pleasurable ache between her legs fading.
It wasn't the first time she'd had sex. It was, however, the first time she'd come that hard, or that much. It had been a little frightening, Mr. Harlow's fingers tight on her wrist, the way he pushed her against the cold metal of the dumpster. Scary, and also arousing. When the camera phone came out and he started taking pictures, it was like a switch flipped in her head. His hungry eyes, the way they dragged up and down her body as he filmed. The calm manner with which he ordered her to strip. Pleasure radiating from where his strong hands kneaded and squeezed her small breasts. Yeah, Zoey was ready to cum well before her teacher even got near her soaked pussy.
And then. And then. After her shower, slipping into a fresh pair of undies and a nightshirt, she saw her phone light up with a notification. No name, just a number, and the message, Next time, just ask. Zoey gasped, hopped under the blankets and pulled them above her head. Mr. Harlow has my number? Opening her messages, she saw he'd sent himself the video. A smile played across the girl's lips. She liked this hidden side of her teacher.
Another message came as she lay there, tiny thumbnail she recognized instantly as her face. Heart pounding, she tapped the image. It filled her screen, the full sight of it making her gasp aloud.
Her eyes were heavy, skin visibly flushed even in the poor light. Semen dripped down her eyebrows, ran along the line of her upper lip to bead at the corner of her slack mouth. Her blonde hair sprang in every direction, a look that screamed "FRESHLY FUCKED." Zoey found her pussy warming with arousal as she thought about everything he'd done to her that led to this photo. She found herself wondering what the others looked like. He'd taken video. As her hand crept down to touch her clit, she wondered if he'd send those too. She'd never seen what she looked like with a cock inside her.
She rubbed one out quickly. As soon as she finished, the events of the evening, combined with the late hour, sent her crashing into sleep.
Now, a week later, she couldn't stop looking at herself. Couldn't stop thinking about the camera in her face, Mr. Harlow above, handsome face cruel with lust. How hard she'd cum when he fucked her. 6th period was almost impossible, even if he treated her exactly the same as he had before, the split between classtime Mr. Harlow and the person she'd seen that night only deepening her desire. It was the only class she kept her phone away: Zoey didn't know what she'd do if he found out how obsessed she was with that photo. Maybe fuck him right there in front of everyone.
Next time, just ask.
That message.
Next time, just ask.
Every night in bed, writing and deleting a hundred different responses.
Next time, just ask.
Finally, almost a week and a half after their encounter, Zoey couldn't take it any longer. It wasn't just the sex. The way he ordered her around was so hot, the sternness in his voice, how rough he was. She wanted all of it again.
Zoey texted her teacher two words:
Again, please.