>>937471097After I came, she stroked it for a little while until it became flaccid.
Then, it was almost like a switch had been flipped. She pulled her bra back over her tiny breasts and put her shirt back on. Then she went right to looking my cock over, palpating my balls, pulling the skin back and forth (cutfag here, because murrica) and then simply said, "Looks good. You can put your pants back on."
I stood there for a few seconds as she picked up her clipboard and scribbled some notes. She looked up at me, her typical cold demeanor returning. "Well? We're done here. Pull your pants up."
"Yes... yes ma'am," I stammered, as I bent over and awkwardly pulled my pants back up.
For the rest of my time in school, she never gave any indication that anything had even happened.
7th grade was the last year that PID was required, so nobody ever inspected my penis again.
I graduated in 1995, and never saw or talked to her again. She had exhibited basically the same kind of cold behavior for which she was best known. A couple years later, she got married and became Mrs. Owens.
About ten years ago, I read about her obituary. Ovarian cancer. She had yet another last name that I don't remember now. Apparently she got divorced and remarried at least once.
I hope they liked her little tits as much as I did. It breaks my heart to think of her fucking with her shirt on, thinking her body was disgusting until the day she died.
I miss her.