"Golly, he was even fuckin' me on the floor," she whispered to herself, as she climbed the steps into the schoolhouse.

She knew Frank had to leave, that he'd be gone when she returned from school that day. She wondered if she'd ever complete the fucking that he'd started with her.

"Oh, shit," Amy whispered. She walked down the hall of Ryder High. "I'm so hot. I never thought I could be so hot about sex and stuff."

But she was. Her young, mind turned over and over the scene in the bathroom. She went to her first class, her pussy wet and juicy, very cummy in her panties.

She couldn't concentrate on the lecture, on the lesson. She just kept thinking of Frank's big prick, his finger-fucking, how good she had felt.

She sat so delightedly sedate in her school desk, her blue skirt a sexy swirl of pleats on her luscious tanned legs. Her popcorn-ball tits pushed out her tight pink sweater. She sat in the last desk in the first row.

And even though beautiful Amy looked as though she were taking notes, she was simply scribbling jottings, and her pussy was itching and gooshing the crotch of her pink panties.

The bell rang and she went to her English class. Since school had just started, it was Amy's first time with Mr. Lane. He wore tight jeans that were faded, clinging to his long, muscular legs, a blue button-down shirt, striped tie, and a brown tweed sports jacket. He had light-brown hair, wore shaded glasses, brown shoes, and he was handsome.

Amy took her seat, finding the last seat in the first row again, and sat down. How old is he? she thought. Must be about Uncle Frank's age.

Actually Mr. Lane was fifty, but he looked more like forty.

"We will start with Shakespeare in this literature class," he said. "And we will begin with Julius Caesar."

He handed out the play.

Amy watched his cat-like walk. His jeans bulged out at his crotch. When he came to her desk, she smelled the pungent aroma of his after-shave lotion.