Overachiever

Mr. Richards kicks back in the lounge, half-laughing at his own luck, when Kimberly slips inside like she owns the place. He knows that look—girl needs something bent that shouldn't bend. Sure enough, she spills it: extracurriculars tanked her grades, scholarship's circling the drain unless he tweaks that last exam score. Not her first rodeo. Last time she crawled to him for help, he walked away with her V-card. So what fresh incentive is she dangling now? She bites her lip, scrambles, then blurts it out—if he saves her skin again, she’ll let him fuck her raw and finish inside. No questions, no rubber, just straight heat. Deal sealed with a grin. He flips her skirt up, bends her over the counter, and slides in like they’ve got all afternoon. Door opens, another teacher strolls in for coffee, chatting about budget meetings, but Mr. Richards keeps pumping, casual as Sunday. The guy grabs his mug, nods, strolls out none the wiser while Kimberly bites her knuckle to stay quiet. Few hard, wet strokes later and Mr. Richards grunts, emptying everything he’s got. She’s left flushed, breathing hard, wondering how the hell her life got this weird.