"I better not," Missy protested. "You know it'll be fun, and I'll give you some money," he offered.

"Well."

"I'll leave, and you come in a few minutes. Just walk in. I'll be waiting," Mr. Maxwell instructed.

He turned and strode off.

Missy sipped her punch. She waited until everyone was dancing to the new Cindy Lauper record, then she slipped out of the gym. She went to the girls' room first, applied some lovely red rouge to her cheeks, straightened her sweet bangs across her forehead, and applied a new bubble-gum coating of pink lipstick. She tightened the pink ribbon on her pony-tail and walked back out in the hall.

She turned a corner and came to the men's faculty toilet. She quickly entered. Mr. Maxwell was waiting. He took her hand and led her into a toilet stall, closed the swinging door, and locked it.

The place smelled of sweet pine, almost a winter-green liniment odor. Mr. Maxwell took Missy in his arms and kissed her hot pink lips, tasting the delicious lushness of her candy soft mouth.

His hands roamed down the back of her sweater and he plunged his fingers into the plumpness of her gorgeous, dumpling ass.

His cock ignited.

Missy felt a shimmer of eruptive fury, a heat, buzz through her. His cock curled against her. His fingers caressed her butter-slick ass. He wiggled his hips, and dry-fucked into her. Missy glued her cunt to his thigh and pressed hard, undulated against him.

Their tongues slapped.

He broke the kiss.

"Oh, baby!" he panted. "You're so damn fine, so beautiful!"

His hand slid between them, onto his thigh, prying into the press of flesh until he had his palm pressed to her pussy.

He gave her a good rub.

He took her hand and placed it on his hard cock.

She squeezed, and felt the thick, portly prick. Her fingers tightened. She felt the throb of his passion.

"This is wonderful, isn't it?" he hugged. "Does this make you feel as good as it does me?"