A Messy Detention

Candice slumps in the hard desk chair. Detention sucks. She crosses her legs, then uncrosses them. Pressure builds. "Mr. Phillips, I need the bathroom." He looks up from his papers, face tight. "Hold it or piss right here. Your choice." She stares at him, cheeks flushing. Something flips inside her. She stands, hikes her skirt, yanks her panties aside. Warm piss splashes onto the linoleum, loud in the quiet room. His jaw drops. Anger flares first—then his eyes darken, pupils blown wide, cock stiffening behind his zipper.