[F/F] A Delinquent Punk’s Secret

Teaching during this whole quarantine was proving to be much more difficult than I ever could have believed. Sure, the administration had provided us with these “online tools” and a bevvy of instructions on how to grade and teach remotely, but there’s only so much you can do from your home. If teaching could be done efficiently and cheaply online, then every major college and every public high school would have done it by now if for nothing but to save time and money.

So it was absolutely no surprise that trying to instill a week’s worth of information to bored young adults via video classrooms was a bad idea. Most of the time I just assumed they were probably binge-watching Netflix, and seriously, who could blame them? Outside of the school environment, work just doesn’t get done. I know for damn sure I would have had trouble getting things done if I was in their place at that age.

But this isn’t just a rant of remote schooling. This is a rant about students.

You know, *those* students. The ones determined to make everything you do *that much harder.* Even before the quarantine I was dealing with them- or, to be more precise, just one- nearly every single day I taught their class. But it’s no use to rant without actually explaining, so I’ll get to my point.

Her name is Riley.

She’s about as tall as me, so she probably stands around 5’9″ or 5’10”.

She’s got short, semi-shaven hair, the rest of which is usually dyed in bright neon colors. Short, quick eyebrows, darkly brown eyes, a cocky, confident smirk with facial piercings and just a bit of freckles to seal the deal. She dresses like something out of an 80’s underground-punk concert, with skinny jeans, ripped clothing, leather or jean jackets, band t-shirts, the whole deal. Like she found an edgier version of Hot Topic at the mall and let it throw up all over her.

But I don’t mind that stuff, specifically. I used to be similar as a teenager, rebelling against my overtly-religious parents. I was secretly very gay, and it made our relationship difficult, so I jumped ship to a university in another state and got my teaching degree and certification in an entirely different one. So suffice to say, I get it. Kids rebel in different ways.

But Riley decided to rebel.
All the time.
Against everyone.

I like to think of myself as a fairly lenient teacher. I don’t hand out pop-quizzes and I’m not a jerk about late assignments. But thanks to this quarantine, I have plenty of students who make the excuse of “sorry, I just didn’t realize!” or the popular “My internet cut out!” despite the fact they’ve been posting to facebook/twitter/instagram all day.

Yes, this really happens, but I can’t question all of them thoroughly, so I let it slide, you know?

But Riley? This girl hasn’t handed in a single assignment since…well, way before the quarantine, I can assure you of that. And since everyone’s been confined to their homes, I haven’t heard a peep from her. Not a single email, notification, message of any kind, or turned-in assignment (of which a total of ten have been due so far.)

I’ve emailed her every day, asking when or if she plans to attend one of my online classes. Or turn in a homework or late test. Or gosh, even respond to one of my emails.

I’ve even sent messages to the higher-ups, especially the principle at where I teach, urging them to…I don’t know, make a phone call or something, since I wasn’t technically allowed to do it. But they always assured me that the situation was being taken care of, or that “special circumstances” were underway to help “aid” her schoolwork performance.

I didn’t understand it at all. How could one girl get away with so much, being so cocky, sarcastic and altogether arrogantly confident at the same time?

I was left completely frustrated and mildly astounded at the results of my hard work to reach to this girl and save her from becoming a failed student.

That was, at least, until yesterday.

I had just finished my last online class for the day, and began to log off. As a teacher, I always have to have my email open somewhere, since I technically need to be around to respond to them at “reasonable hours,” whatever that meant.

Sitting at home, alone without a spouse or partner, you sometimes realize how much it sucks to be…well, alone. Especially so during a time where most people (at least, the smart ones, anyway) were avoiding any interactions with others in the first place.

So, naturally, I started to feel that burning sensation of what anybody feels when they’re cooped up and completely alone. I needed to do something about it.

Sitting back against my couch, I spread my legs and kicked my feet up onto the small coffee table in front of me, my laptop pushed to the side. I slid my shorts off, leaving me in just my top and underwear. My hand made it’s way down the front of my body, fingers gently pushing against my warming, aching crotch. Tilting my head back, I closed my eyes and began savoring the slow, gentle pleasures of my own flesh.

*Ding! You have an email…*

Come on, class. Give me a break for, like, just an hour or two. Well, anyway…

*Ding! You have an email…*

Geez, another one? What gives? Students can be so annoying. But back to this…

*Ding! You have an email…*

What? Was this some kind of spam, or did all of my students somehow forget about a last-minute assignment due next week?

I stopped my fingers, staring back at my computer, the screen still tilted away from me. I stared at it for a moment, as if daring it to make that noise again.

“Oh, is that all you’ve got?”
“Or are you finally done now?”

I found myself uttering these things aloud, quickly feeling silly for having interrupted myself in the first place.

Just another minute or two…

*Ding! You have an email…*

Alright, alright! I get it! What could these kids *possibly* need!?

Without even throwing my pants back on I sat up and grabbed the laptop, facing it towards me once more.

Looking at my most-recent emails, I scrolled to the top and clicked on the first one, which appeared to be from Riley herself.

“Oh, so she’s not ghosting the rest of her academic career. How nice,” I mumbled to myself as I opened the message and read the contents.

…………………………………

“Hey, teach! I just wanted to apologize for the moment, I accidentally sent you some stuff off my phone. I meant to send it to a friend, but I accidentally hit your email address and sent it before I realized. Oh well. I just *know* you wouldn’t mind, anyway. Thanks in advance, teach!”

[3 Linked Files]

…………………………………

Ugh, that cocky little- did she seriously use *italics* in her message to me, of all things? Asking me after all this time to just “forgive her” despite the fact she made no effort to contact or communicate with me at all? I mean…what the actual fuck was going on?

Raising an eyebrow, I scrolled down to the messages she’d sent, which were all linked files connected with a google drive link.

The first link, from the url of the file sent, seemed to be titled “Biology_Homework.”

Wait, wait. Was she seriously doing the work of other classes, and not my own? I’d never spoken of Riley’s poor performance to other teachers, you know, because I think complaining about that stuff to your coworkers is unprofessional (even if they did do it often in the teacher’s lounge, I was never really a part of that gossip.)

But if she was doing her work for other classes, that meant she wasn’t just a sassy, rebellious girl, it meant she specifically didn’t like me? How was that possible? I’m the nicest teacher, ever. Seriously.

So of course, I click on the link, and my brow furrows as the display pops up on my screen and it begins to auto-play.

It was a apparently a video, recorded with what seemed to be smartphone at the school, in the biology lab. The phone appeared to be placed on a desk near the back of the room, propped up by a packpack or something that was holding it steady since the room seemed rather empty. There was barely any light coming from the windows to the side of the room and little to no sound elsewhere, indicating this was probably after-hours at the school.

The door across the room leading to the hallway opened: two figures entered. The first I recognized as Mrs. Becky Halloway, the biology teacher, a fairly uptight woman with long brown hair and hazel eyes. The second was Riley- a cocky expression still placed on her face as she moved into the room.

Mrs. Halloway moved over to one of the lab stations, large, sturdy brown tables. She turned to Riley, not saying a single word.

“What on earth am I watching?” I thought to myself, eyebrow still raised inquisitively, “Why would she record this, of all things? This looks like her in detention.”

Of course, nothing could have prepared me for seeing Mrs. Halloway immediately lean down, pulling Riley into a kiss.

My eyes widened, and my gasped to myself, audibly. I watched as Riley seemed to savor it, returning the kiss and pushing Mrs. Halloway back against the table, the younger girl’s hands reaching down and sliding over to her teacher’s waist. Her palms lingered as they continued the kiss, eventually making their way to the older woman’s rear, fondling it as her fingers steadily began to creep into the back of the Mrs. Halloway’s pants.

I covered my mouth as I watched in pure shock, barely able to contain the rapid breaths of my sheer surprise. But I just couldn’t stop.

Riley continued to kiss her teacher, pulling off for just a moment and opening her mouth wide, letting her pierced-tongue move across the lips of the older woman. With her hand firmly down the back of the woman’s pants, her fingers began to move, evident by the shaking fabric of the trousers she was invading.

Mrs. Halloway’s voice began to fill the room. What was at first subtle, whispering grunts of approval soon became loud, lasting moans of ectsasy. Riley continually silenced her teacher with another blisteringly-intense kiss, her hand moving even faster as she thrust her entire body against the normally-stern woman.

The two of them continued like this, alternating back and forth before finally Mrs. Halloway cried out in a manner I had never heard another person squeal in my entire life. Her legs wobbled, but Riley held her up steady as a stain formed on her pants rather quickly and the two collapsed onto the table together, sharing one last kiss.

I clicked out of the video and fell back against the couch. Did I really just watch one of my students masturbate one of my coworkers to orgasm?

Holy shit!

This was the type of stuff you only hear about. But me? I’d seen it with my own two eyes. Were they ever going to be found out? Who was she sending this to in the first place? Was I the only other person who knew? Would Becky be fired, and Riley be expelled? There was no other option, was there? Would I be in trouble just for seeing it?

This was so, so incredibly crazy. And the worst part is, I couldn’t deny that it was, in a roundabout way, sort of hot.

It was easy to admit that Riley didn’t look half-bad.
In fact, were I her age, she was probably the sort of gal I would date back in the day. Maybe because it was the 90’s and those punky, rebel chicks were the only types of girls I could (usually) date given my sexuality, but I kinda developed a thing for those types of girls anyway.

But this was…well, so much more.

My heart was racing. It felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. I was a little surprised in the moment that it didn’t.

But, for some reason, I clicked away and scrolled down to the next link, which was also titled within the url. This one read “Algebra_exam_retake.”

Out of some morbid curiousity, strange fascination, or latent arousal (or perhaps an odd mixture of the three) I clicked on the link.

Another video.

This one was also smartphone-recorded, though it seemed to be held in someone’s hand, constantly shaking around as they moved.

When the camera focused, I saw the short, curly, reddish-orange hair of another of my coworkers, Ms. Lily O’Conner. She was fairly new, employed at the school only about half a year. Her emerald-green eyes sparkled in of what seemed to be the sustained light shining down at her from the camera, which was also facing down at her.

The camera zoom pulled back a little, and Ms. O’Conner seemed to be…stuck under her own desk? Or, rather, not stuck in the proper definition, but on her hands and knees under her desk, as if she was taking shelter. Her eyes stared playfully back up at the camera, and she winked.

The camera zoom pulled back a little more, and I gasped once again.

It became clear that the person recording was sitting in Ms. O’Connor’s own chair, their legs spread to the front of the teacher sitting happily underneath her own desk. Even more, the person recording was totally nude from the waist down, so much as the video could tell; their body was pale, smooth, crotch mostly-shaven save a small patch of…*dyed hair?*

“Come on, you know what to do,” Riley’s voice echoed-in from off-camera, her hand moving forward to push through the redheaded woman’s curly hair. Ms. O’Connor smiled back warmly, even turning her face to the side to suck on Riley’s fingers as she pulled them away.

“Get to it,” Riley chuckled with a contented sigh as the algebra teacher nearly dove her face into the student’s crotch, pressing her lips up against the exposed groin of the punky gal.

This was…totally insane. To watch, and to feel. My body kept getting warmer as Lily’s head bobbed up and down, Riley offering equally-satisfied moans to the camera still pointed at her teacher. I squirmed in my seat on the couch, crossing my legs a few times as I witnessed Ms. O’Connor drag her wet tongue up across Riley’s slick cunt, only to reveal that it too (the punk’s clit) was pierced.

“Holy…holy fuck,” I finally stammered, before looking down and realizing my own hand was inching closer to my lower end. I bit my lip, quickly clicking off of the video before I could see any more. I took a breath, and stared back at the screen.

There was another link, and presumably, another video.

No matter how many times you ask me, I really can’t explain why I felt that urge to click on the link. Something had welled up inside me. Something moved my hand, and if it was me then I didn’t know it at the time. It was like my subconcious was acting on my behalf without my knowledge. Sure, it’s a lame excuse and makes me sound like a creep, but I seriously don’t have another explanation or reason for it. Maybe deep down I’m just a pervert.

Who knows?

But I did click on that third link, which seemed to be under the title of “Sent_down_to_office_discipline,” and before I knew it I was watching another video as expected.

This one was from the perspective of Riley once more, but this time she had the inward-facing camera recording, rather than the forward-facing one. She held it up fairly high, looking into the camera as if she was taking a selfie, this time her whole nude body being exposed to the open air. Her arm swayed, and more and more of the room around her became revealed to the camera.

Tacky posters…

Blinded office windows…

Small trophies for “school of the year 2005” on a shelf…

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

She was in the Principal’s Office, our 55-year-old Principal Evelyn Harper’s own place of work within the school.

Principal Harper, with her bob-cut sandy-brown hair and mature physique, appeared in-frame as Riley flipped the camera around to see her.

Except it wasn’t exactly…her. At least, not how I knew her.

The stern, often-scowling principal was now bent over her own desk, papers and staplers and office paperweights thrown to the side or off to the floor. Her own body was completely stripped of all clothing, her physique surprisingly curvy for her age (and fairly devoid of wrinkles, too.) Her rear was pushed out towards the camera, her own hands moved back and tilting up to spread her legs and her asscheeks.

The camera’s angle moved swiftly downward, showing the front wall of the desk and once again revealing Riley’s naked body from the waist-down as she held the smartphone camera. But this time there was something more.

A strap, almost like underwear but with buckles, was wrapped around her waist and crotch. The small elastic bands seemed to curve inwards around her thighs, but only when she giggled behind the camera and shifted in place did I see it.

A long, thick, silicone-molded penis strapped on to the end of the waist harness. This thing right here was no beginner’s toy- it was purely massive in comparison to the stuff I had thought about buying online. Riley’s hand reached forward, slapping the rear of the mature woman before grabbing the base of the dildo and lining it up with her entrance.

“Alright, slut, remember what we talked about? You’re gonna beg for it like a good little girl does,” Riley cooed, her voice practically dripping with sexuality as she playfully rocked her hips against the woman’s clearly-wet sex.

“P-Please, Riley, I…I need it,” Principal Harper groaned, her body grinding back against the punk-girl’s waist. It was at this point that Riley flipped the camera back to herself, holding it above her shoulder so the inward-facing camera could get a good glimpse at her body and smiling face, as well as the rear-end of Principal Harper laying over the desk with the huge dildo pushed up beside her.

I couldn’t help it any more. This was like something straight out of a porno movie- and not a cheap one, either. A really, really good one.

My hand fell to my crotch and I started rubbing in circles. I have no idea of what came over me, it just felt like the most natural thing to do. These videos had brought me back down my animal instincts, apparently.

“Come on, Evvy. I know you can do so much better than that,” Riley commented, her pet name for the Principal causing the older woman to shiver as she continually teased her with the large plastic cock.

“R-Riley, please! I need you now!” She begged, “I need you to fuck me! I want you to fuck me! Oh god, don’t keep me waiting any longer~!” She moaned.

Riley slapped Principal Harper’s rear one more time, adjusting the huge strapon.

“Good girl, Evvy,” she chuckled, lining up and pushing forth into the older woman with a fast, solid thrust. Principal Harper moaned out in pleasure, and Riley re-focused the camera on herself gyrating her hips to send the cock into the older woman.

My hand was moving furiously across my own crotch now, and there was no way I was stopping. This was just too damn good, and I loved every second of it.

Riley’s repeated thrusts became an almost-mechanical rhythm, the huge cock sailing in and out of my own employer with impassioned lust and unending vigor. She kept the camera’s angle on herself and the Principal’s rear, simply demonstrating her own prowess as she showed off her talents.

Pleasure began building inside me once more. It was flowing to my head and across my spine, down to my groin where I slid my underwear to the side and focused on really getting off now. I couldn’t help it. Every thrust into that ass on-screen made me wish and fantastize about it being my own. Unable to see the upper half of the Principal, I felt my mind wandering, imagining myself in her submissive, aptly-pleasured position.

*Slap, slap, slap.*

Riley’s hips met Evelyn’s rear, and it was music to my ears.

*Slap, slap, slap.*

That perfect rhythm…that sexy body…those words with that tone…so good…!

*Slap, slap, slap.*

I couldn’t hold it any longer, I had to release, so kuch had built up inside me that I was ready to explode.

*Slap, slap, slap…*

Riley turned back to the camera lens, grinning widely, staring at what felt like right into my own eyes.

And then she winked, in the cutest way possible.

And I felt my entire body erupt in near-perfect ecstasy, an absolute state of bliss that consumed me.

When I opened my eyes, I was still breathing heavily, the video having ended already with the both of them collapsing onto one another. I struggled to regain my breath, and in my post-orgasm haste I quickly clicked the links and saved them to my own account for…easier access, next time.

But before I could even react, my computer made another noise.

*Ding! You have an email…*

My eyes, glazed over in pleasure, let me take a peek at the newest email.

It was from Riley. It read:

…………………………………

“Hey, teach. Just to give you a heads-up, my account lets me see what you’ve been looking at and for how long. You do know it has that function, right? I see that you watched all three videos, and for a while longer than necessary, too.

So, what’d you think?

…………………………………

I snapped back to reality, and my eyes widened in a mix of fear, shock, and arousal.

Oh, *fuck.*

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/fxphyn/ff_a_delinquent_punks_secret