Teaching Her a Lesson Pt. 12

My instincts were telling me no, it was wrong to take advantage of her in this state, but this was the same girl I'd dosed with Serenex and stripped half-naked and made her create a video offering me sex for a grade. Then she'd come over to my house tonight and told me to fuck her anyway. What in the hell had Abbie done to her sister's head when she'd had us both under? Was she compelled somehow? The more I pissed her off, the stronger the urge to fuck me? It was the sort of twisted thing a mind like hers would come up with.

Either way, here she was, and no sense pussing out and wasting the opportunity. I made sure she was wet enough with my fingers, and boy was she ever. A few rubs of my tip against her labia and I was ready enough to go myself.

Then she snored.

I sighed. "Shit."

She was heavier than she looked. I dumped her in my bed; she slept right through it. Taylor's purse lay near the door where she'd dropped it after storming in; I fished out her phone and texted Abbie.Staying at C's tonight. Cover for me?

lolz zat you C-dawg?

How could you tell?

Abbie knows all, she replied.but I'll see u tomorrow right???

Saturday class is a go.

u got that fantasy ready?

I glanced at my bedroom door, where Taylor's snores were audible through the door. I thought of Julie.

Yes.

Saturday class was a small group that morning. Some days the roster swelled to the point that we had to move to the library to fit everybody. When I had my druthers, though, I kept it in my own classroom. Easier and more comfortable for me to get stuff done in there without having to relocate, and frankly, the books I had on my shelf to keep bored students awake were better than what our librarian kept on stock. Calvin and Hobbes anthologies, Jack Handey'sThe Stench of Honolulu, or, for kids I trusted better, Gary Brodsky'sThe Art of Getting Even: The Do-It-Yourself Justice Manual. Some real gems in my collection.

This time of year, teachers were increasingly inclined to let things slide, and students were increasingly inclined to ignore our dwindling attempts at discipline. Saturday class, after all, wasn't for garden variety tardies and missing homeworks. No, Saturday class was reserved only for those just shy of suspension. I'd overheard that we owed Jimmy Fulton's presence that morning to his decision to call Madame Gabrielle "a fucking bitch" earlier in the week.

(Ah, to work in a field where some snot-nosed fourteen-year-old punk can hurl invectives at you in front of a snickering audience of his peers and you're expected not to retaliate. Another counterpoint to Oscar's thesis.)

Still, a crowd of six was easy to manage. Seat them far enough apart that there was no opportunity for side conversations, keep everyone in easy sight of my desk so I could monitor phone use. With finals and summer vacation only weeks away, suspension of my usual disbelief regarding claims of not having homework was possible; by this point teachers were focused on getting old work turned in and final projects prepped, not pushing new material. An email from Dr. Clendenin asked me to administer a test to Amber, and a quick search on SchoolWays displayed a couple missing assignments from Allan. That was all done before 8:30. With wok out of the way, we settled in for the rest of our four-hour marathon of boredom. It was a punishment the Geneva conventions narrowly missed in its definitions of torture, but then, so was the crap most of them had put their peers and teachers through.

The small crowd was sufficiently well-behaved that under ordinary circumstances I would have sent them home early. The only problem was that, as I'd told Abbie, I had my fantasy ready, and unfortunately, it was running on a schedule. It meant that for four hours, I was stuck in a room with Jimmy, three other petty offenders, and the Stern girls. Taylor wasn't actually on the roster today, but nobody else knew that. I'd woken her up in time to drop her off at home with instructions for her and Abbie. Besides, after her stunt yesterday and my own negligence Thursday, she had plenty to make up.

If Taylor didn't appreciate my taste in fantasy apparel, the broad grin on her sister's face as she flounced into the room at eight o'clock sharp had told me that she did. It was nothing exceptional. A loose white tank top over an electric blue sports bra, complemented by plain white tennis shoes and a pair of black cotton sweatpants that despite being loose elsewhere, clung tightly to her ample backside. Taylor was dressed nearly to match, though her own tank top was so tight I could see the dimple of her belly button. There were several inches of golden midriff beneath that, and then her shorts were practically a bathing suit, so brief that even this girl with her boundless contempt for the dress code had never dared wear them to school before. Beyond that, nothing but flip-flops and an expression of disdain.

She'd slept most of the ride home, so there had been scant chance to talk this morning. Did she remember our discussion, or was the slow spreading and closing of her legs an independent decision? It sure played its part keeping Jimmy awake, though as I glanced over his test, it didn't seem to do much for his capacity to string words together coherently.

I didn't get much done that morning either.

At 11:51 I got the go-ahead text.

"All right, everybody, ten minutes off for good behavior. Go enjoy the rest of your weekends." Jimmy let out a whoop and ran out the door. His peers weren't far behind, except for the two.

"So, we hitting the gym now or what?" Taylor asked dryly. "You just gonna follow us around, stare at us while we do squats like some simp on a fitness stream?"

"That's a thing?"

She rolled her eyes. "Everything's a thing."

"Oh man, I can't wait! Are you gonna fuck us on the wrestling mats? I've always thought it would be really hot to fuck a guy on the wrestling mats. Like all pinned down and everything. Mmm. Come on, don't keep us in suspense!"

"Cassie Brown is waiting in the north lot. Go meet up with her. Do what she says."

Their reactions couldn't be more disparate. Taylor's eyes narrowed guardedly, while Abbie clapped her hands. "Fuck, it's like a sex scavenger hunt or something. Mysteries and clues and shit! Oh, I can't wait."

"I'm glad you're excited. Now go. I'll see you soon." I gave each sister a prompting smack on their respective asses, then gave them ten painfully slow minutes' head start before locking up my room and heading out.

The warmth from earlier in the week had lingered. The weather report (which had briefly not failed to distract me from Taylor's thighs) had said we were due for rain tomorrow and cooler temperatures next week, but for today, things were high seventies and sunny, a fine spring day by any standards. The school parking lot was sparsely filled. The baseball team and both track teams were away for competitions today, so there were a good many cars parked by the boys clubhouse and the gym. There were a few vehicles in the faculty lot, and a few scattered vehicles that never seemed to leave. It was enough to make me nervous, but alibi in mind, I walked purposefully toward the girls field locker room.

It ended up being unnecessary; nobody emerged into the lot by car or from the school during my long walk.I swore I saw a cat sneaking off behind the building, but I think it ran through the bushes over there! Save that one for next time. Per my arrangement with Cassie and her assistant coach/my co-conspirator in student-fucking, the door was unlocked. I'd never been in the field locker room before, though come to think of it, I hadn't been in a high school locker room since I'd been eighteen and a senior myself. I'd never even walked near this little structure except for graduation, when the processional formed outside before marching over to the football field for the ceremony. It was perhaps the most remote location on the GHS campus, a small brick building tucked away behind the field the football and soccer teams used for practice in the fall, also used by the girls track team in the spring. They were hours away from here right now, however, and shouldn't be back until well after I was due at Candy and Isa's. There was a small parking lot adjacent, currently filled by the dormant vehicles of the track team. The entrance was blocked from sight at most angles. It was secluded, isolated, and best of all...

It was a girls locker room.

Was it common for a teacher to fantasize about his students? I didn't know. Fantasizing about this place, though? This one had been with me and every post-pubescent male since the invention of the first girls locker room. It was a place of unhurried stripping, of casual nudity, a place so linked to dirty thoughts that it had its own showers to rinse the girls clean. As I let myself in, I considered sending a text of gratitude to Candy for lending us the key yesterday via Cassie, but no, I'd thank her in person at dinner tonight. Seven plus inches of gratitude. Call it eight if Isa showed her breasts.

I took stock of my surroundings. There was a smell in here, and while it was unlikely the R&D folks at Glade were on their way to take samples, I found it was to my liking. A little musty; a little mildewy; some unnameable scent wafted out of lockers full of the wrinkled clothes the track girls had tossed inside them before changing into their uniforms and boarding the bus earlier that morning. This place was used. This was a real place, worn down by years of female inhabitation. It wasn't some porno set where they put a five dollar periodic table poster on the wall and called a bedroom a chemistry lab. This was the real deal.

There was a small office for the coaching staff, locked and dark. Lockers, some sealed with padlocks, some opened. A pile of folded white towels on a table near the entrance to the showers; beneath the table one lay crumpled and yellowing, neglected there for who knew how long to the point that now nobody was willing to touch the thing. I wondered whose body it had last dried, who had carelessly dropped it there before casually strolling naked back to their locker.

Honestly, I would have been hard simply from standing in such a place even if I weren't expecting company.

It was some time before company arrived, long enough for me to change out of my button-down shirt and slacks into khaki shorts and a polo shirt, a whistle slung around my neck. The adrenaline was already pumping. This was going to happen. I could kiss Abbie for pushing me into doing this -- if it wouldn't break character, that is.

At long last, the door opened. I waited around the corner from the frontmost bank of lockers, taking in the sounds of the three young women's heavy breathing. Panting, for at least one of them.

"You are such a fucking cunt, Cassie, I'm going to fucking kill you," moaned Abbie.

"You're going to kill her? Who's the one who just ran a fucking milebarefoot!"

"Shit, bitch, I told you to dress for a workout. You're the idiot who decided to wear flip-flops."

"I think you guys did great out there! For two ladies who aren't runners, you kept up pretty good. For a while, at least. Barefoot's gonna be slower, of course. Though she also got to run inside the track so it was shorter, so never mind. Still, you worked up a good sweat, so yay!"

"Die in a hole, Cassie."

"A deep hole."

My patience ran out. I rounded the corner, and there they were. Taylor and Abbie, still dressed in the outfits they'd worn to Saturday class, only now after a nearly half hour jog, they were dripping sweat. Taylor's shirt was wet to the point of near transparency except where her sports bra covered her, which I could now see was bright pink. Abbie was fanning herself with the bottom of her shirt, and with her back to me I could see where her sweatpants were earning their name, soaking up the excess running down her back. Each had their hair in a ponytail, Taylor's bound at the base of her neck and Abbie's up high.

As for Cassie, she looked a good deal peppier, but no less affected by sun and exercise. She'd had the sense to put her hair up in a full topknot, and hadn't bothered with the added layer over her vibrant purple sports bra. Then an expanse of smooth, flat, glistening tummy, and then, praise whatever sick god was allowing all this, the volleyball shorts. How could anyone ever get tired of those things? Whatever fashion designer or porn mogul had imposed that fashion on the sport deserved a medal.

"Good workout, ladies?" I put my hands on my hips, projecting as broad a chest as I could manage.

Abbie pivoted around on the bench, red face brightening. "Hey there, Coach."

"It was just a warm-up run, really, Mr. Canon, but they tried. If you want them to build up their lung capacity we really ought to get back out there, but since you said you just wanted me to run them until they worked up a good sweat, I figured they looked sweaty enough. Me too. I hope that's OK. Sweat's kind of gross, ya know? I put on deodorant right before we went out, but still. It's a total swamp under my bumps."

"I don't know, I don't mind working up a sweat if the exercise is something I enjoy." Did I sound like a porn actor? I felt like I sounded like a porn actor. Maybe I should ask for Cassie's thoughts.

"Well next time you're gonna have me out there running, let a girl get proper footwear, 'Coach.'" Taylor flopped down on the bench opposite Abbie's, kicking off her flip-flops and inspecting her feet. They were grass-stained and dirty, all right. Enough that it was almost a turn-off.

"You know, let's drop the 'coach' thing, at least as a term of address. It's not actually working for me. I kinda feel weird in these clothes, actually, too."

"You look good, C-dawg," Abbie said quickly. "I like the little chest hair tuft sticking out.Tres manly."

"Thank you, Abbie. You don't look half bad yourself -- apologies for not saying so earlier."

"Aw, thanks." She grinned, or maybe smirked. "So... yeah. Do you have more coachy things to go over with us, or... should we start getting cleaned up?"

I couldn't remember the last time I felt this kind of excitement. Considering how I'd spent the past week, that was saying something. I owed credit to each of them, in their own way. Abbie for being so unabashed in demanding I produce my dirtiest desires. Taylor for reminding me of Julie Hiess and that regret at not being ready to seize an opportunity when it came up. Cassie, for planting the seed the other day when I'd fucked her fresh from track practice. She'd been only too happy to be given an order to skip today's meet (tended to get motion sickness on long bus rides, which I got to hear way too much about).

For such a momentous occasion, however, it almost seemed a shame to dive right in without savoring.

"Before you do, let's talk workout clothes," I said. Where was I even going with this? Whatever. Improvisation time. "Let's start with Cassie here."

"Me? Is this not OK?" she frowned. "I can take it off if you want, but this is definitely a super normal thing to wear for practice. I think I wore this exact thing Tuesday. Or maybe different shoes? I have two pairs and I kind of go back and forth because even though one is newer, the other is broken in so--"

The shrilltweeep of my whistle echoed around the locker room. "I was going to say, Cassie here is a good model for how to dress for practice. The shoes are fine -- looking at you, Taylor -- and then... here." I came up behind her, spinning her to face the Sterns. "See, no extra layer up top. Much better ventilation. No wonder she's not sweating like you two. And as you can see, her bra still provides all the support she needs."

Cassie giggled as I hefted her boobs from underneath a few times. That thing really did keep her in place. She might have the smallest boobs here, but she wasn't small. Quite possibly still growing, too, if Megan's were any indication. "See? Nice and snug. No ratty old shirt is going to help with that job. And these shorts? Very practical. Keeps everything right in place, doesn't create extra friction."

"Thanks, Mr. Canon! I figured you'd like these considering the other day how you--"

Tweeep! Roleplay was turning out not to be Cassie's strong suit. "Now you, Abbie. Go on, stand up, let's take a look at you."

She hopped up to her feet. "Yeah? Something wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"For starters, let's ditch the shirt. You too, Taylor. They're impractical and counterproductive. Only thing they cover that your bras don't is your tummies, and only fat girls hide their tummies, right?"

"What doyou think Tay?" Abbie asked pointedly. I belatedly recalled Megan's story about the bullying at girl scout camp and suppressed a wince. I'd slipped into that meathead coach mindset again, and in seconds I'd regretted it.

"Taylor's got the best body of any girl here, so maybe as the girl who felt like she had to hide her thighs inthose, you should watch where you throw stones, Abbie." Taylor's brief vengeful look dissolved into a mere smirk.

"Yeah, Abbie. Tell me again how 'thick thighs save lives,' track star." She tossed her discarded tank top into a nearby locker, and Abbie did the same with hers. It was almost funny -- the two both had such incredible bodies, but their sports bras couldn't do shit to contain those breasts of theirs. Taylor's responded to the pressure by lifting up and pushing straight out, bulging like playdough squeezed in a toddler's hands. Abbie's were simply too big for spandex alone to stop, a visible gap showing on the underside where the sheer mass of her was threatening to pop the thing off altogether.

How many jumping jacks would it take before it flipped up and over her tits? I could... no. No, keep to the scenario. For now.

"I ain't hiding shit," Abbie protested hotly. "Problem is my track shorts... well... Here. I'll just show you." A moment later, her sweatpants followed her tank top. To my surprise, beneath the pants she was wearing a pair of fairly typical track shorts, bright orange with yellow trim. They were the sort of breezy, comfy looking things I would have worn if I'd been going to run.

Then she turned around.

It was well-known, and by most of those present in this locker room especially so, that Abbie Stern was a thick-ass white girl, to quote her own instagram posts. It was another thing to see what that ass did to her shorts. From the front, everything had looked normal enough. If there was a lot of leg showing, that was how they were cut. Abbie was half a head shorter than Taylor, besides, so she had a lot less leg to show. From the back, however... they were sucked right up the middle of her ass. Plump, meaty cheeks were squeezed out the bottom in much the same style as her sister's bra. I'd literally seen her wear underwear that covered her ass better, and moreover, I didn't even get the impression that these shorts were particularly skimpy. The girl just had that much ass.

"See? I get cat-called by everybody on the boys team when I wear these, C-dawg. I can wear 'em if you want, but my mom says they make me look slutty." She looked over her shoulder at me. "Do you think they make me look a little slut?"

I let myself stare for a time. Abbie held her position, letting me inspect her mother's fabricated claim. "We'll work on it," I said at last. "Really, if we're talking about slutty... Taylor." I snapped my fingers, and when she realized I meant for her to stand. She stopped trying to brush the grass stains off her feet and complied. "Nowthose are slutty."

"What, my shorts? I love these shorts!"

"I think you know full well that those are in clear violation of the school dress code, Ms. Stern."