Evgenia Evgenievna is an intelligent bitch.

This happened in a distant wing of the university. It had just been renovated, and there was a women's restroom: clean, new, imported plumbing. That's where I decided to give myself some pleasure. I first went into one stall and unscrewed the latch. Then did the same in another. On my way out, I placed a 48-page notebook under the door. I stood opposite, in the narrow corridor, and waited. After a while, our chemistry teacher comes running: a young woman still, you could say a girl. She leads our practical sessions.

 — Hello, Evgenia Evgenievna.

 — Hello.

She's wearing a white blouse, a blue jacket, and a matching blue knee-length skirt. On her legs are black nylon stockings or tights.

"I'll find out soon," I think. Her hair is light, flowing. When she stops opposite me, I look her straight in the eye; she looks away. — "An intellectual." She tries to open the restroom door. The notebook worked: the door opened a crack and got stuck. She struggles with the door, and I carefully examine her rear. I see the zipper on her skirt. She is so close — to unzip it, I'd only need to reach out. She fidgets and squeezes her legs; it's clear she needs to pee. She's caught off guard and realizes I'm watching her. She yanks the door with all her might — it won't budge. Holding back to avoid wetting herself, she's already squatting slightly. She shifts from foot to foot, and her hips move enticingly in front of me. Her whole body writhes. She tries to hold her lower stomach but, remembering me, pulls her hand away. She's embarrassed. I watch her torment intently and wait. Suddenly, she gasps. It seems it's starting. She still tries with all her might to hold back. But then I notice the nylon on her leg starting to get wet. That's it! She's wet herself! Two meters from the coveted toilet, right in her clothes, in front of her student, she stood and peed. In a futile attempt to change anything, she started pounding on the door with her little fists. And on her skirt, front and back, a dark stain was growing.

 — Don't look at me, turn away.

I didn't turn away.

 — Evgenia Evgenievna, you've wet yourself!

 — Stop mocking me, better help me open the door.

 — How will you go out to the students now, your whole skirt is wet?

She looked down.

 — No! Oh, God!

 — Why do you need the toilet, you've already peed?

I pretended to take pity and opened the door. It was easy because I knew the "secret." She rushed into the restroom. After waiting a moment, I followed.

I approached the closed stall. She was holding the door from the inside with her hand. I yanked the door towards me, and she fell off the toilet.

 — What?! Why?! — she chirped in surprise.

And before me opened an enticing picture. A young woman with her skirt and panties down, in stockings. "Strange," I thought, "usually such intellectuals wear tights." Confused, she didn't know what to do. First, she tried to cover the mound between her legs with her hands, then started pushing me away. I knew what to do — silently took her pussy with my hand. She cried out and started pulling my hand away. I noticed a wedding ring on her right hand. She couldn't push me away — I was stronger.

 — Take your hand away, you brute, — she finally gathered her thoughts.

Apparently, that was the rudest thing she was capable of. I started kneading her pussy. With my fingers, I fiddled with her labia, then stuck one into her hole. We stood silently, and I masturbated her. Then I noticed she stopped resisting. She was still holding my hand but wasn't pushing it away anymore. I pressed my palm against the top of her pussy and started rubbing it. This completely relaxed her, and she sat back on the toilet.

I, continuing to caress her with my hand, knelt down. It's known that if you bring a woman to orgasm, you can then enjoy her to your heart's content. I started licking her pussy. First, I licked her labia, then took the top with my mouth and quickly moved my lower lip. I looked at her: eyes closed, breathing through her mouth. I continued my caresses but added a finger. I inserted it fully, turned my hand palm up, and started fucking her with my finger. With my mouth, I continued working on the opening of her tender folds. Soon my lips felt her clitoris. I started sucking it into my mouth with my lips. I sucked the clitoris and inserted my finger in sync. Then I added a second finger and continued rhythmically pounding her pussy. She was flowing into my palm, and I vigorously sucked her clitoris. After a minute, she pushed my head away with her hand. "Quietly coming, the intellectual," I thought. She sat completely relaxed. Her little white legs in stockings were spread wide apart. I looked at her, and she smiled. I stroked her face with my wet hand. "Now you're my bitch," I thought.

I put her on her knees on the floor. Closed the toilet lid and laid her chest on top. I knelt behind her. Had to open the stall door. Put on a condom. Before me were legs in stockings, a white ass, and a wet pussy. She held onto the side with her hands and waited. I inserted into the pussy. She didn't even squeak. Started fucking. Leaned over, slipped one hand under her stomach, and with the other took hold of her sacrum from above. Holding her tightly, I inserted my cock to its full depth. Suddenly, my classmate Lenka approached the stall. I recognized her immediately by her clothes. She was wearing a tight pink tank top with embroidery. The tank top didn't reach her navel. Below was a plaid mini-skirt with pleats and black stockings. "Lucky with stockings today," I thought. Lenka was a shameless girl, not like my intellectual bitch today. Not every girl wears a mini-skirt with stockings, especially at the university.

 — I'll watch, — Lenka said in a completely non-questioning tone and, leaning over, added, — Hello, Evgenia Evgenievna.

 — You can touch too, — I sort of objected.

And Lenka reached her hand towards my ass. Running her finger between the cheeks, she stuck it into my hole. "Yes, a shameless girl," I thought. She started moving her finger, and I continued fucking the teacher. Then Lenka took it out and gave it to her to lick. Lenka sat on her back facing me. Her short skirt rode up, and I saw white panties. She didn't adjust her skirt and even more — lifted her tank top. Such girls don't wear bras. I looked at her large breasts and plump painted lips.

 — Let's kiss, — I suggested.

We started kissing, and my cock continued moving in her pussy. When I was about to come, Lenka stopped. She got off and sat on the toilet. Pulled down her panties and spread her legs. Took her head with her hands and pulled it to her pussy.

 — Lick, bitch, — she said.

The teacher obediently complied. "The orgasm is still working," I thought. Got behind her again and wanted to continue in the pussy.

 — Put it in the bitch's ass, — said Lenka.

Hearing this, she pleaded:

 — Please, not in the ass. It will hurt. I've never let anyone before.

I didn't listen and pressed against her ass.

 — Please, no, not in the ass, — the teacher begged.

I started pushing in. The ass was indeed tight. But the cock was well-lubricated from the pussy and went in easily. After inserting halfway, I took the teacher by the hips.

 — Pierce the bitch all the way, — said Lenka and pulled her mouth to her pussy.

I pushed, and the cock entered the teacher's virgin anus. Holding her by the hips, I started fucking her anally. Lenka held her by the ears and rubbed against her crotch. She regretted not letting her husband in the ass: her ass turned out to be unprepared.

Lenka started coming. She breathed loudly and cried out. Her tits jerked, and she masturbated against the teacher's face, moving her and moving herself. Seeing this, I couldn't hold back either and came. I stepped back, but Lenka continued.

 — I need to pee, which means someone wants to drink. Open your mouth, bitch, — Lenka clearly wasn't joking.

She opened her mouth:

 — Don't.

 — You will! — and Lenka started letting out streams. — Drink, bitch, — she ordered, laughing.

But when the urine started getting into her mouth, she closed it. Urine splashed on her face and dripped onto the toilet lid and floor. Lenka didn't stop.

 — If you don't want to drink, you'll eat, — Lenka smirked, — But first clean up after yourself. You have beautiful hair, lie on the floor, closer to the puddle.

Lenka took her by the hair and started wiping the urine off the floor with it. The hair absorbed well and quickly got wet.

 — You're an excellent floor rag. Well, shall we start feeding?

Lenka tore off a piece of toilet paper. She ran it over the toilet lid and brought it to her lips.

 — Say 'Ah'.

Lenka took her by the chin and tilted her head back. With the fingers of one hand, she opened her mouth and pressed down her tongue, and with the other hand shoved the paper deep into her throat. She choked and wanted to spit it out. Then Lenka pinched her nose and covered her mouth with her palm:

 — Swallow, bitch.

Lenka started shaking her head:

 — Come on.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she swallowed.

 — Disobedient bitch. We'll teach you, — Lenka sneered and tore off another piece of paper.

She wet it so much it dripped. Maybe that's why it went down easier. After the third or fourth piece, Lenka smiled mockingly:

 — You're really hungry, want some poop? I see you do.

I left and left them alone.

The next day, there was a chemistry lab. The class was held in the "chemistry room." Basically, it's a regular classroom, just with a sink. About 20 people came. I sat in the back near the aisle. Lenka was animatedly telling the girls something.

 — ... on the floor, on her knees, and she swallowed, — reached me.

Everyone was waiting for her, and on the board was written: "Evgenia Evgenievna — an intellectual bitch!" She entered. She was wearing the same blue suit and stockings. What was under the skirt, you'll soon find out.

 — Hello, Evgenia Evgenievna, — said Lenka.

 — Hello, — she answered briskly, suspecting nothing.

And then she noticed the writing. Grabbed a rag and started erasing. It turned out the writing wasn't done with chalk at all, and she couldn't erase it. Then she noticed:

 — The word "intellectual" is spelled with two 'l's.

"And the word 'bitch' — with a 'y'," I thought.

She brought handouts from the lab assistant's room and distributed them. Further, the class proceeded as usual, and besides the writing on the board, nothing distinguished it from other boring classes. She walked along the rows. When she passed by me, I quickly unzipped her skirt and tried to pull it down. As planned, she managed to react and caught the skirt. Then two guys sitting in front grabbed her. One hugged her around the waist, pinning her arms, and the other grabbed her ankles. I calmly pulled her skirt down. She started talking:

 — What are you doing, stop!

No one listened. They stepped her legs over the fallen skirt. When the skirt was in my hands, they let her go. She was left standing in just her panties and stockings.

The panties were wonderful. Dark pink satin fabric clung tightly to her untanned skin. On the hips, the panties converged into a narrow strip. Lace ran along the leg openings. The panties were small. In the back, they covered her buttocks only halfway. In the front, even less. She must have shaved smoothly to look decent in such panties. And indeed, there was no trace of yesterday's mound. Her white pubis showed through the lace of the panties. And the thin fabric in the middle got tucked into her slit. "Surely, she didn't wear these sexy panties for no reason," I thought, "There's some occasion."

She lunged at me hoping to take back the skirt. I quickly threw it to the other end of the classroom. She ran there, but there her skirt was caught and thrown again.

 — Please give it back, — she pleaded.

No one was going to give her anything back. Instead, everyone watched as she ran back and forth in just her panties. I stood by the sink and turned on the tap. When the skirt came to me, without thinking long, I shoved it under the water. She, of course, rushed to me to save her skirt. But two boys held her back. I started scrunching the skirt under the water. She watched her perishing skirt and started wailing:

 — How will I go home now.

I took out the skirt and offered it to her. She reached out, but I pulled the skirt back:

 — No, first fulfill our condition: sit on the lectern facing the group.

It seemed to her there was nothing scary about that, and she agreed. When she sat down, I took a pointer and started pretending to be a teacher.

 — Pay attention, before you is an intellectual bitch. Her name is Evgenia Evgenievna. Carefully examine her panties. Sketch them in your notebooks. — I started lifting the edges of her blouse with the pointer.

 — How dare you call me that, — she feigned indignation.

 — She didn't wear these panties today by accident, — I continued. — Let's ask, for whom did she put them on?

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