I turned eighteen in December of my senior year of high school. I had applied to a number of colleges and universities. The more accurate statement wo...ld be that Angie and I applied to the schools. We spent hours in the office going over applications and preparing the essay and biography. Most of the schools I applied to were Ivy League. My parents insisted. I was smart enough, and my parents could pay. I wanted to study science and wanted to go to either MIT or Stanford. My father was happy. What if Mr. Kirby's chair could be outfitted to give him a deviant surprise? What would he do if the magic switch were thrown while he was in the midst of grading papers? I picture his pen skidding to a halt in a moment of disbelief, followed by a discreet shuffle of attempted evasion. He can't get up though; he's already starting to bulge. In this fantasy, the vibrating modification is equipped with cock-detecting sensors that adjust and pinpoint with ruthless purpose. My former teacher. More

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