Just spent an hour yelling at my students for half-assing their laps. The way their eyes rolled, you'd think I asked them to run a marathon. But fuck, I saw little Jessica actually trying—legs wobbling, face red as a tomato. Almost smiled. Almost. Then I got home and my vibrator died mid-session. Battery icon blinking like it’s mocking me. Fantasized about bending over my own goddamn desk after hours, skirt shoved up, some rough hands yanking my hair back while that cock I’ve been craving splits me open. The audacity of this dry spell… I should start grading papers. Or pouring vodka on my dignity. opens wine