Jordan Brinks pushed the mop across the locker room floor in long, steady strokes. Late afternoon light slanted through the high windows, turning the spray of disinfectant into a brief mist of gold.
Her thick, muscled thighs, covered in tattoos, flexed as she moved. Her dark brown skin contrasted with her beige tight spandex shorts. She was built like a runner, powerful and sleek, with an ample, perfectly round butt. The action of pushing the mop back and forth made her ample, round buttocks clench and relax with each stroke. Her soft, medium-sized breasts swayed gently under her spaghetti strap top. Her ponytail swung as she bent to scrub at a stubborn scuff mark near the benches.
She liked this time of day, after practice ended, after the last giggling freshman had grabbed their bags and rushed out. The quiet was calming. No one needing anything from her.
The smell of bleach and sweat had become almost comforting over her two years teaching here. Jordan paused to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving the mop resting against a locker. Through the doorway, she could see the empty gymnasium, the basketball hoops casting long shadows.
Matt appeared in the doorway so suddenly that Jordan actually jumped, the mop handle clattering against a locker.
"Oh, sorry, Ms. Brinks," he said, but he didn't look sorry. He had his gym bag slung over one shoulder, that easy confidence of a senior who'd figured everything in life was ahead of him. "Forgot my phone."
"Right. Okay." Jordan stepped aside, gesturing vaguely toward the benches. Her heart was hammering. "Go ahead." She folded her arms across her chest, her breasts pushing slightly against the spaghetti strap top.
He walked past her, closer than he needed to, and made a show of looking around the bench area. "You know, Ms. Brinks, you work really hard. Like, harder than any of the other teachers."
Jordan gripped the mop handle tighter. "Just... doing my job."
"Yeah, but like," Matt turned to face her, leaning against the lockers. "You're not that much older than us, you know? It's cool. You're cool."
Her mouth went dry. "Matt, you should... your phone..."
5 minutes later, Jordan gagged loudly and rhythmically in a "hurk hurk hurk" sound as she rammed the opening in the back of her throat into Matt's erect cock. Her saliva-laden chin smacked into his balls repeat repeatedly. Matt was speachless, repeating, "whoahh Ms. Brinks, whoah whoa whoah!"
"I'm just saying, if you ever wanted to, like, grab coffee or something. Talk about... I don't know, fitness stuff. Training." He smiled, and Jordan felt her stomach clench. "I'm eighteen, so it's not-"
"I don't... " Jordan's voice came out too quiet. She cleared her throat. "That's not... I mean, I'm your teacher." The words felt flimsy even as she said them.
"Yeah, but after graduation, right? That's only a few months away."
Jordan took a step backward, bumping into the mop bucket. Water sloshed. Her mind was racing. She should shut this down, firmly, clearly. She should tell him to leave. She should... what? What were the exact words? Why couldn't she find them?
"I really think you should just, um, find your phone," she managed.
Matt's smile widened slightly, like her obvious discomfort was amusing rather than a signal to stop. He took another step closer, his eyes flicking down to Jordan's breasts again.
5 minutes later, Jordan was completely nude, pressing her face and chest against a locker, standing with her legs spread-eagle. Matt gripped her hips from behind, driving into her. His hanging testicles clapped gently against her spread vulva. When he pulled away, the moistness made the skin of his testicles stick to her pussy lips and made a wet crinkle sound as they detached. Jordan was visibly shaking and hyperventilating, whispering manically, "oohfuckgetitinthereMatt, ohfuckyea, ohfuckgetitin there!"
"Just STOP!" The words ripped out of Jordan before she could control them, echoing off the tiles like a gunshot. Her hands were shaking. "Stop talking to me like that! Get your phone and GET OUT!"
Matt's face went blank with shock, then flushed red. He straightened up from the lockers, his expression crumpling into something wounded. "Whoa, Ms. Brinks, I was just... "
"I'm sorry." The words came out immediately, automatic, panicked, eyes wide. Jordan's heart was pounding so hard she felt dizzy. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. I just- I-I... I just... I just want to be respected, Matt. P-please," she managed to stammer out, her voice barely above a whisper.*
5 minutes later, Jordan was doing the splits, pelvis down on a locker room bench, her hands braced on the floor. This bunched her extremely generous brown butt cheeks into a mound which rippled like two bowls of jello each time Matt's belly struck their backside with a slap, his cock sliding in and out between them. SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP. Jordan's wordless and strained strained moans echoed through the locker room, "uuuUUUUHHHHuuuUHHHUuhhUUUUUUHHHuuuuuuHHHH!
"No, it's-" Matt looked genuinely upset now, maybe even hurt. "I didn't mean to- I'm sorry if I- "
"No, I'm sorry," Jordan said again, hating herself. She'd done exactly what she shouldn't do. Lost control and screamed at a student. What if he reported her? What if he told someone? "I shouldn't have raised my voice like that. That was unprofessional."
"It's okay," Matt said, and then- God, no- he stepped forward, arms opening. "Hey, it's okay, really..."
Jordan froze completely as he moved toward her for a hug. Her arms stayed rigid at her sides. This was worse- this was so much worse. She should step back. She should put her hand up. She should say something.
5 minutes later, Jordan's loose tits bounced wildly as she repeatedly landed in a squat on Jordan's cock as he lay on a bench. Her dark muscular thighs rippled each time they landed on his hips. CLAP. CLAP. CLAP. CLAP. Her face looking down on him was twisted in a strange open-mouthed grimmage, halfway between a disgusted snarl and weeping. In time with her bouncing squats, she let out a strange, high-pitched, "EYH! EYH! EHH! EEH! EYH!."
But she just stood there, paralyzed, as Matt's arms began to close around her shoulders in what he apparently thought was a comforting gesture.
Her mind screamed at her to move, but her body wouldn't respond. Matt squeezed her, and she could feel her breasts mush against Matt's chest. She could feel a distinct bulge where his basketball shorts met her bellybutton. She didn't know what overcame her in that moment, but she snapped, and grabbed Matt by the collar and swung him. He staggered to the side and his back slammed into a locker. He looked shocked. Suddenly she found herself landing hard on her knees in front of him, having yanked his basketball shorts down, and his thick cock was bobbing in the air in front of her face.
5 minutes later, Jordan lay on her back on a locker room bench, her legs spread wide, and she held her ankles in her hands. She was looking down her sweaty body her mouth open in a yawning moan, "hhHhhHHHoooooogodohgod, OOOOHHhhhhhhhgodohgodogod". Her dark abs glistened with sweat. Matt was straddling the bench standing above her, balls pressed against the cushion of her fatty butt cheeks, and his cock buried deep inside her, pressed against her cervix. The girth of his penis pulsed wider, and she could feel spurts of hot cum filling her insides as Matt busted his nuts within her.