**Detention with Ms. Carter**

I never thought I’d have *her* like this—Ms. Carter, the strict English teacher with the tight pencil skirts and the way she crossed her legs just slow enough to tease. I’d been staring at the hem riding up her thigh for months, biting my lip while she lectured about Shakespeare, imagining what was under that skirt.

And now, here we were.

Detention. Just the two of us.

She leaned over my desk, arms crossed, pushing her tits together in that blouse that was *always* a button too loose. “John, you *know* the rules,” she murmured, but her voice wasn’t sharp like usual. It was breathy.

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, I do.”

Her lips curled. Then, deliberate as hell, she turned toward the chalkboard, bending just enough to give me a peek—black lace panties, snug against her full ass.

Fuck.

I was already hard, my dick straining against my jeans. I didn’t even think. I grabbed her waist, pulling her back against me, feeling the heat of her ass press into my erection.

She gasped—but didn’t pull away.

“You’ve been teasing me all year,” I growled into her ear, sliding my hands up under her skirt. Her thighs were warm, smooth, trembling under my touch.

“Maybe I *wanted* you to do something about it,” she breathed.

I didn’t wait. I pushed her panties aside, two fingers slipping into her pussy. She was *soaked*, her cunt clenching around me.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” I muttered.

She moaned, arching back, grinding against my cock. “Because of *you*.”

I yanked down my jeans, my dick springing free, thick and aching. I didn’t even bother with foreplay—just lifted her skirt, pressed the head against her dripping slit, and shoved inside.

She cried out, her tight walls clamping around me. “Oh *god*—”

I fucked her hard, gripping her hips, slamming into her over her desk. The sound of our skin slapping filled the room, her moans bouncing off the walls. Every thrust pushed her skirt higher, the black lace panties now around her knees, her ass jiggling with every brutal stroke.

“You like this?” I grunted, slamming deeper. “Your teacher taking your cock like a slut?”

“Yes—” she panted, her hands scrambling against the desk. “Fuck, yes, don’t stop—!”

I reached around, grabbing her tits through her blouse, pinching her nipples as my hips pounded into her. Her pussy was pulsing, getting even wetter, her moans turning desperate.

Then the door creaked open.

I froze—but Ms. Carter didn’t. She whimpered, “Don’t stop, *please*—”

I turned my head and saw *her*—Emily, the quiet girl from the back row, her uniform skirt fluttering as she stepped inside, her cheeks flushed.

“I—I forgot my book,” she stammered, but her eyes were glued to where my cock was buried inside Ms. Carter.

The teacher let out a shaky laugh. “Come here, Emily.”

Emily bit her lip—then slowly walked over, her fingers already slipping under her own skirt.

Ms. Carter reached out, pulling her closer. “Show him how wet you are.”

Emily lifted her skirt—no panties. Just smooth skin, a glistening pink pussy already dripping.

Fuck.

I pulled out of Ms. Carter, turning Emily around, bending her over the desk right next to her teacher.

Two tight cunts, side by side, waiting for me.

And I was *far* from done.