Afterschool Special

She was sitting on his desk, twirling a lock of her hair between two fingers, studying it carefully for, he imagined, split ends. He was busy erasing the day’s discussion from the chalkboard and definitely not looking at her … er, definitely not looking directly at her. So it was only out of the corner of his eye that he noticed her crossing her legs, dropping the lock of hair to smooth out her skirt, letting her hand linger—for a rather inappropriately long time, he thought—on her bare thigh.

“Do you need me to help with anything else?” Her voice cut into his (improper) thoughts.

He set down the eraser and turned toward her, careful to keep his eyes on her face, though he felt he couldn’t be blamed for the quick glance they had taken of the slight cleavage exposed by the unbuttoned collar of her shirt before arriving at their destination. He pretended not to notice that she noticed his noticing of her breasts.

“No, I don’t think so, Sakura,” he told her, allowing just a bit of fatigue to slip into his voice. She had no idea how tiring it was trying not to look at her if he didn’t have to, trying not to look at her inappropriately when he did, and trying not to fantasize about her whether he was looking at her or not. She had no idea how tiring it was keeping himself from pushing her down and fucking her on his desk right now.

“Are you okay, sensei? You sound tired.” Her luminous green eyes peered concernedly up at him.

“I’m fine, Sakura. It’s just been a long day.”

“Maybe you should sit down?” She pushed his chair toward him with her foot. He made a valiant, but ultimately unsuccessful, effort not to wish her legs had parted just a teeny, tiny bit more so he could see what color her underwear was.

“No, I’m fine. I should be leaving anyway.” He moved to pick up some papers from the desk only to be stopped by a small hand on his chest. He didn’t dare look up, because he knew that if he did, he would realize exactly how close to him she was. He didn’t dare remove her hand, because he knew that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to keep his own larger one from sliding up her arm to tangle in her hair as he ravished her mouth.

“Sensei, please. Just sit for a few minutes. You look like you really need it.” The worry in her voice was evident, and he conveniently ignored the slightly mischievous undertone that accompanied it, letting her push him backwards into his chair, though he knew it was a bad idea. A very bad idea, it turned out, since the moment he sat down, leaned back and allowed himself finally to look up at her, he saw that he was eye-level with her crotch.

It took him a moment longer than it should have to realize that he wasn’t staring at crossed legs but at a pair of very silky, very red, very small panties.

“S-Sakura? Why can I see your underwear?” he asked, impressed that he only stuttered once, but chagrined that he had yet to avert his eyes from his student’s—his student’s!—cloth-covered vagina.

“Oh, can you, sensei? I’m sorry … I didn’t realize.”

He didn’t have to see her face to know that she was biting her lip and doing that half-smile she did when she was pretending to be innocent; her voice gave her away. And he didn’t have to be a Legendary Sannin to figure out that—oh, yes—she did realize, and she had no intentions of remedying the situation, because she made no move to close her legs. In fact, he was both elated and scared shitless when he noticed that there was now a dainty, manicured finger sliding over the panties in question.

“Sakura, what are you doing?” He tried to inject into his question his no-nonsense, “sensei” tone of voice, but he suspected the effect was nullified by his continued focus on her crotch.

“Trying to turn you on,” she answered unashamedly, her finger pressing harder against her vagina as it moved slowly up and down.

“Why?” His voice had lowered almost to a whisper—a husky, pained whisper.

“Because I want you, sensei.” Her other hand moved to grip the edge of her panties, intending to pull them to the side and reveal to him what he should not—but desperately did—want to see. This motion (and the electric jolt of desire that it sent through him) knocked him out of his trance, and his hand shot forth to stop her.

“Sakura, no. It’s not right,” he said firmly, thinking, God, how cliché does that sound? This must be a dream. I must have fallen asleep while reading Icha, Icha, and now I’m dreaming about my tantalizingly sexy, completely legal student seducing me on my own desk …

But it was no dream-hand that grabbed his and pressed it against warm, wet silkiness. And it was no dream-voice that said in a seductively innocent whine, “But I want you to touch me, sensei.”

He drew a sharp breath at her words and snatched his hand from her grip, unable to keep his “I’m dreaming” theory from being thoroughly squashed by the fact that it was definitely no dream-woman who left his hand smelling of musky, feminine arousal.

That scent nearly overwhelmed him, but he struggled to maintain his distance, trying to reason, though whether it was with himself or with her, he couldn’t be quite sure. “I can’t, Sakura,” he sighed. “It’s against the rules. I could lose my job.”

He saw her eyes take on a thoughtful look, and he knew he was … er, wasn’t … going to like what came out of her mouth next.

“What if you didn’t touch me?” She asked quietly, spreading her legs wider and resting her feet on the arms of his chair. “What if I just touched myself and you watched me?”

Oh God, she really was trying to kill him! No amount of will-power could keep his cock from straining against his pants at the mere thought of witnessing her bring herself to orgasm less than two feet from his face, and he couldn’t make himself stop her as her fingers reached under the edge of her underwear a second time.

“Would it be okay if I just made myself come while looking at you? It would be so much better than all those times I did alone at home …” Her voice trailed off.

Oh God, she’d masturbated to thoughts of him before? Multiple times? The images this knowledge arose his mind solidified for him what he had guessed from the first moment he looked between her open legs—he was fighting a losing battle. Finally succumbing to defeat, he allowed his right hand to travel to the aching erection between his legs and lightly stroke it through his pants.

“Fuck, Sakura, what are you doing to me? The door isn’t even locked … anyone could come in!” He protested, but his hand kept moving against his covered cock, and he groaned when she finally pulled aside her panties and revealed to him a neatly trimmed pussy.

“It’s okay, sensei. It’s late; no one else is here,” she said as she slid her fingers over her clit and dipped them into her vagina. He could see she was wet already, and it only made him want her more. He imagined what it would be like to thrust in and out of her warmth, what it would be like to yank her hair back and nip at her neck as he fucked her into his desk, what it would be like to feel her cum around him, shouting his name. He gripped his shaft harder.

She noticed his increased tension and fixed him with a sultry stare. “I want to see you, sensei. If I can’t touch you, I at least want to watch you touch yourself. I want to watch you cum.” Apparently the very thought turned her on, and she whimpered as she pressed a second finger into her pussy. He found he couldn’t ignore her request and slowly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, pushed down the zipper and pulled his erection out of its confinement. He watched her eyes widen at his (he had to admit, even to himself) rather impressive length, and he saw her gaze heat up as he circled his hand around it.

“You look so hot, sensei,” she panted, her fingers moving more quickly in and out of her. “I wish you could fuck me. I wish I could feel you inside me, breathing on my neck, moaning my name …” Her breaths became shorter as she spoke.

“I wish I could fuck you too, Sakura,” he groaned, his hand picking up speed. “You have no idea what I’ve wanted to do to you these last few months—no idea how much I’ve wanted you, how many times I’ve had to stop myself from shoving you against the chalkboard and taking you right here. You have no idea how sexy you are, how often I’ve thought of you while jerking off, how hard you make me cum without even being there …”

“Mmm, sensei,” she moaned, her eyes drifting shut.

“Sakura, open your shirt for me,” Kakashi commanded, completely under the control of his lust. She obeyed without question, moving aside her blouse and exposing her lace-covered chest. She ran her hand over the mounds, teasing her nipples through the cloth. “Show them to me, Sakura, I want to see you touch your naked breasts.” She complied easily, and he nearly growled when she brought up her second hand to help push the cups of her bra down and he could finally see the pert breasts he’d fantasized about so many times, nipples erect and just begging him to suck on them.

But he forced himself to keep his distance, instructing her instead to pinch and massage them. By this time, his cock was leaking pre-cum, and he knew he was coming closer to orgasm. “Touch your pussy again, Sakura,” he ordered. “Make yourself cum for me.”

“Yes, sensei,” she sighed lustily, keeping one hand on her breast and allowing the other to resume its place among her damp curls. She pushed three fingers into herself almost immediately, stretching her vagina for her sensei’s viewing pleasure, moisture dripping from her opening. “Oh, God, sensei,” she hissed. “I wish it was your cock making me feel so good! I want you to fuck me so hard—I want you to fuck me until I come. Oh, fuuuck, sensei, oh fuck I think I’m going to come!” Her fingers pounded into her pussy, and he watched her walls begin to contract around them. He could almost imagine them contracting around him instead, and he began fucking his hand in earnest, the pre-cum aiding his rapid movements.

“Yes, Sakura, that’s it, baby. Come for me—I want you to come all over your fingers right now!” he demanded, and, as though his command were all she needed to tip her over the edge, she threw her head back and let out a low shout as her orgasm hit.

“Ah, sensei, oh God, oh God, it feels sooo gooood …”

The sight of her shaking legs and convulsing pussy sent a bolt of hot arousal right down to his balls, and he raised his hips off the chair in an effort to increase the pressure on his cock, his hand working furiously up and down the rigid shaft. His panting breaths joined hers as he groaned in intense pleasure. He watched the liquid of her orgasm slide onto his desk, and he was undone.

“Shit, Sakura, I’m going to come …” was all the warning he gave her before his cum shot out onto her thighs and dripping pussy. The vision her splashed with his semen only made him come harder, streams of white coating her hand and the desk below her vagina. “Oh fuck …” he murmured as he milked the last of his orgasm onto the floor, eyes sliding closed. “Fuuuuck …”

Finally, breathing calming down, he opened his eyes lazily. They sprang wide open, however, at the completely erotic sight before him. There was Sakura, swirling her semen-covered fingers around her clit and pressing his cum into her vagina, an enraptured expression on her face. “Sensei, that was so hot … I want to come again,” she moaned. Anticipating his concern, she said, “Don’t worry; I’m on the Pill,” before swiping up his cum from her thighs and shoving it into her, a sharp cry leaving her throat.

Semi-aroused, he watched her bring herself to a second orgasm covered in his ejaculate, memorizing every detail for later … perusal, his cock twitching when she bit out his name as she came. “Shit, Sakura …” he whispered huskily.

After a few moments of tightly closed eyes and labored breathing, she bit her lip, hopped off of his desk and slid her underwear down her legs. He wanted to ask what she was doing, but couldn’t bring himself to do more than stare at her shapely legs, their mingled fluids sliding down to her calves. He got his answer soon enough, though, as she caught the liquid with her panties and slowly wiped her legs and the desk clean, then gave him a cheeky smile and tucked the silky underwear into his desk drawer.

“I guess I’d better get going,” she said as she packed up her bag. Still unable to function properly (and wondering idly how she was doing so so easily), he watched her walk to the door, her hips swaying in an alluring back-and-forth motion. Watched her pause at the door and turn to look at him over her shoulder. Watched as her lips formed words which he knew would be the death of him …

“Did you know, Kaka-sensei,” she pronounced seriously, with a devious glint in her eye, “there’s only one more month until graduation.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement, and, without waiting for a response from him, she skipped out of the room.

***

It was one month until she would be his student no longer. One month until he could touch her, enter her, make her come with his own fingers, his tongue, his cock. One month until she would be his to fuck, to kiss, to hold and, maybe, to love.