Chapter 1: A Reprimand Out of Control

I don’t want to set the world on fire

I just want to start a flame in your heart

Eddie Seiler, Sol Marcus, Bennie Benjemen and Eddie Durham.

—The Ink Spots

Angel Tucker screamed again...

Her girlish facial expression contorted into a very adult-looking grimace, one of unbridled sexual ecstasy. Angel’s almond eyes were squeezed shut. Her brows furrowed inward and were turned up as her head pivoted sharply from side to side. The violent movement whipped her straight shoulder-length blonde hair, fanning the golden tresses out in all directions.

Angel’s full, well-proportioned body writhed, as well. Clearly titillated and once again held within the grip of almost unbearable pleasure, her curvaceous form quaked and twisted through yet another all-consuming climax. There seemed to be no limit to the girl’s capacity to cum. However, the intensity of this current seizure outpaced all of the others she had been experiencing in the past hour.

An orgasm can do extraordinary things to a young girl’s appearance. It is capable of wiping an every day reserved or otherwise modest and shy demeanor away, allowing within the vestiges, something primal, something very wild to surface. If experienced intensely enough, it can rip the mask of innocence from her visage within an instant, revealing a stressed, almost painfully-felt eroticism, licentious in expression.

It has been noted that there exists a fine dividing line between the sensations of extreme pleasure and pain. This, in fact, was what Angel Tucker’s face and body were communicating at this moment. Her whole being seemed to be balancing precariously on that very precipice.

But, that’s not all an orgasm can do to a girl’s appearance. If aided by an over-aroused accomplice during an illicit sexual encounter, it could further transform her look in the most astonishingly erotic ways.

Thanks to multiple sticky orgasms shot forth from her delirious, frenetic male partner’s stiff dick—powerful explosions she had inspired—Angel’s alluring face projected the very image of lewd, salacious sex. Set in an anguished frown, an expression carved by the ongoing climax she was now experiencing, her sparsely blemished-but-sexy features—painted and glazed as they were with multiple loads of viscous, clotted sperm—positively glowed under the harsh office lights.

As the high school senior’s supple body quivered uncontrollably through this latest lustful convulsion, the wet offerings from her lover’s numerous and violent ejaculations were in motion upon the surface of Angel’s tormented face. Gravity had begun to force some of the more voluminous dollops of the man’s semen to stream down in glistening rivulets.

Periodically, globs of the immorally applied fluid would slip off of her nose, or drip in strings like Karo from her lips and cheeks. These large drops of spent, liquid male lust fell in staggered intervals, plopping luridly down onto the partially-opened white uniform blouse she wore. The new puddles further soiled the fabric making those sections slightly more transparent than others.

As a result, the topography of her hard nipples, aside from pushing out the fabric stretched forcefully over their shapes, was becoming more distinguishable. The same could be said about the dark shading of the surrounding areolas, as they too began to show through the soaked cotton of both the uniform blouse and through the tension-strained bra she wore underneath.

Some of the spurts of ejaculate had been blown wildly against one of Angel’s ears. Their glistening composition now dangled in pearl-like strands from her hoop earring—a sight of particularly erotic significance to the man who had shot them on there earlier: the same man who was presently giving her pleasure. As she shook her head in ecstasy, the earring strands swayed obscenely. The runny glue-like drips cascaded from the silver hoop and became elongated, eventually stretching down to puddle onto her shoulder. Several individual streams of cooling sperm meandered down Angel’s tapered neck and gleamed brightly, while other elastic drips snapped free from her chin, the drops falling upon the folds of her hurriedly yanked-up skirt.

She was a mess; an unholy one, at that. But, through it all, her raw sexual persona still blazed forth.

You see; Angel possessed an elusive beauty: a subtle underpinning of libido-inflaming magnetism. Everywhere she went she stood out, but not because of fashionable attire or some popular notion of accepted extraordinary physical beauty. No. There just seemed to be an aura surrounding her. This erotic corona the girl appeared to emit arguably had a bit to do with her somewhat pudgy but curvaceous body frame. But, let’s not quibble over measurements, size, and proportions, because those points are negligible. Truthfully though, it’s not entirely about Angel’s body, sexy and desirable as it may be.

Most of the projected eroticism radiated from her sexually beaming visage. It was evident in the way her eyes were set. It beaconed from her red lips. It was communicated through the way her hair fell around her face. The slight flaws on the surface of her face—a smattering of freckles and stray blemishes—also added to the overall seductive energy she exuded.

To be more succinct, and to proverbially “dot this i,” it’s fair to say that both her body and face, including the poise she displayed, were in perfect balance. Angel’s sensual impact on the libido of anyone looking upon her was the product of combined packaging.

Even while considering the gaudy state in which she was at present, this “vibe” still burst through. Her disheveled appearance notwithstanding; clothes in disarray; her cheeks, nose, and lips coated and dripping in a ribald mask of ejaculate, did nothing to disfigure Angel or affect her unique beauty in any negative sense. She was still devastatingly lovely.

If anything, all of the aforementioned conditions enhanced the effect. Like an Evergreen Pine—its beauty is obvious in its natural state, but somehow, it is that much more breathtaking when decorated for Christmas.

Oh, and about the man responsible for Angel’s current “festive look”?

Well, he was one Mr. H. T. Hogarth; St. Catherine High School’s vice-principal—the similarly disheveled, sexually distraught, hopelessly male character within this taboo coupling. A man commonly perceived as being a proper school administrative type. A usually stalwart, fastidious kind of guy, who, at the moment, seemed “out of sorts,” as ‘they’ say. A controlling man apparently out of control—now kneeling on the floor between the spread legs of one of his female students; his demeanor appearing almost submissive; his handsome face violently mashing into this radiant girl’s exposed, climaxing vagina.

Hogarth seemed possessed. He just wasn’t showing his usual sturdy, rigid Catholic-church-going, rosary-clutching self at that moment. Well, “rigid” perhaps—but all that other stuff? No. That façade of pretense was gone, and the mask that went with it had been ripped off and tossed at the foot of the altar about an hour ago. All of it lay burning behind him while he mouthed new prayers into the splayed lips of Angel’s pussy.

Yes, the righteous fellow was indeed being driven mad with an insatiable lust for the buxom blonde tart who sat slumped and wriggling in front of him on his office chair. How this situation started and how it had reached this point of depravity so very quickly, Hogarth couldn’t recollect. But, reasoning through the progression of events leading up to his debase behavior was furthest from his thoughts. Presently, all that mattered to him were Angel’s cunt, his aching dick, and the job at hand; feeding fuel to the fiery lust burning within their flesh while its flames heated the air swirling around the two lovers.

Unhinged—his mind and body overcome with unrelenting sexual hunger—Vice-principal Hogarth mindlessly continued rubbing his drenched face back and forth against Angel’s convulsing pussy.

Writhing through the sensation, she tried to speak.

“M-Mr. Hogarth! You’re not gonna tell him, are you?” The girl pleaded breathlessly.

“Hmm?” Hogarth puzzled, his mouth too busy for an intelligible response.

“You’re not going to-to tell my-my-my-f-f-father,” Angel clarified, her words bleating in staccato breathy bursts due to the movement of the teacher’s flicking tongue.

“A-About the trouble ... About graduation, I mean,” the girl added.

“Oh, Christ,” Hogarth panted, clearly irritated, but still kissing her sopping labia.

“Please, Angel! Not that again. Not now!”

The vice-principal huffed, communicating his frustration toward Angel through more intense oral activity.

“Oh, Jesus! F-fuck!” The full-figured girl groaned, feeling the vice principal’s stiffened tongue suddenly slicing deep through the opened labia folds of her sex; the sand-rough stubble of his cheeks and chin repeatedly scraping across her wet sensitive flesh.

“Please!” she bawled. “Eat my pussy ... fuck me ... drown me in your cum! Do anything you want to me! But, please don’t tell him!”

Obviously, Angel wasn’t just sitting there passively through this ordeal, either. She was similarly delirious, helplessly caught up within the same level of white-hot appetite as was her overzealous attacker. But she still had her presence of mind. She still knew this matter needed to be resolved.

But, distracted for the moment, passion took precedence.

Cooing uncontrollably—in fact, almost crying—Angel’s gyrating pelvis rocked wildly on Hogarth’s office chair in a heated response to the overwhelming sensations he was providing. With her hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair for support, she was shamelessly thrusting her seething cunt right up against his face, urgently trying to spear her juicy opening directly onto the vice-principal’s stiffened tongue.

Hogarth began using his fingers, desperately working to spread her slick labia majora even wider in an attempt to gain better access to Angel’s sensitive flesh. At one point, quite accidentally, his index finger slid into her moist hole and applied just the right amount of pressure to her G-spot as his tongue flicked persistently over the bud of her swollen clitoris. She was already on the crest of another full release, and this only helped to exacerbate the situation.

A resulting series of convulsions were set into motion as a low, agonizing feminine growl began to swell up from the girl’s throat. It was a groan laced with foreboding and choked with burgeoning passion. She looked down into the vice-principal’s eyes, an expression of ever-increasing anguish playing over her face as the groan intensified into a full-fledged howl.

There was no way back from this one. Impossible as it may seem—considering the ever-increasing intensity of all the other bone-shattering orgasms she had already weathered—Angel was quickly reaching yet a new pinnacle of wanton pleasure. Her body, now seized with the impending release, instinctively pulled back from Hogarth’s busy mouth. Consequently, his finger slipped out from her wet depths just as her pussy exploded with a pulsing shower of warm fluid.

Now it was Angel’s turn to cum all over the teacher’s face!

The realization that this was actually happening in real-time and not in some kind of bizarre, wicked dream only served to heighten the power of the orgasm for her as she watched it commence.

“Ah, fuck!... UGH! Mis-ter HOOO-garth!” Angel groaned in genuine wide-eyed astonishment over witnessing the spray issuing forth.

“Oh, fuck! ... AH, FUCK!”

The student repeatedly wailed with her head suddenly thrown back, the lips of her semen splattered, openly-panting mouth bridged with several unbroken strands. Angel’s shouts of gripping pleasure were falling rhythmically in time with each successive blast of ejaculate squirting forcefully from her undulating quim.

Her cries of pleasure amounted to a symphony for Hogarth. That, combined with the sexy baptismal he was receiving, made him moan with deep joy. Something was happening inside of him, a feeling which he couldn’t quite grasp, but yet he somehow accepted as truth. Within the heat of that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of devotion toward her. She was no longer just another student to him. No. In the space of those few seconds, Angel Tucker became a vibrant, arousing woman to him; a woman whose pleasure was of his utmost concern.

The satisfaction level of his own sexual gratification seemed to be thoroughly hinged on giving this woman as much pleasure as humanly possible. So, he took all Angel had to give: his face forward, his eyes closed in reverent appreciation. Receiving her cum in this way was like being christened. It was a wet, wordless testimonial to his ability to give her overwhelming pleasure. And his body responded in kind; a rush which almost had his cock exploding yet again, at the same time his partner reached carnal nirvana. It seemed an act of love.

Angel was beside herself within this heart-pounding release. She looked back down at her school’s well-built vice-principal again; an expression of awe etched upon her face and gleefully watched the last of the wet pulses of her excitement spray against Hogarth’s handsome features. The school girl’s shouts had deteriorated into softened cat-like mews, the volume of each whimper matching the lessening force of these final squirts. The jets found their marks, striking his cheeks, his nose, with one shooting directly onto his mouth.

And then, the fountain stopped.

Angel’s body, however, was still caught up in orgasm. Even though the dramatic squirting had ceased, her sex still throbbed persistently through wave after wave of pleasurable spasms, seemingly unending. But that eventually subsided, as well.

Then, both student and teacher looked at each other, their eyes locked. This began a moment where everything seemed comparatively placid but poised; a brief moment punctuated only with the rasping sounds of their labored panting. In reality, the relative calm only indicated that the eye of the storm was passing over.

No words were exchanged, but none were needed. Both understood while they listened to their breathy passion mingle in unison; the chorus reverberating in the room as they shared dazed-but-hungered looks which washed over their expressions.

So much was passing between Angel and Hogarth in this wordless moment. Want, passion, desire, avarice, control, regret, apprehension; it was all there. And, the air around the couple seemed thick, laden with the tension that was, and the tension yet to build. Within the fog, the two continued to look at one another; both basking in the powerful lust that had just ended, and wanting more; both wondering what to do with it next while assessing the damage left behind in its wake.

Hogarth’s sperm—blotched and jaggedly streaked every which way across her face—still glimmered on her lipstick-painted lips and pale cheeks. And now Angel’s wet offerings were plastered all over his face. Her spent fluid cascaded from his features in multiple strands down onto his clothes, the fallen drips darkly staining his dress shirt and tie.