It was Mrs. Ayame Sada. Iroha's mother.

Renji couldn't recall how exactly she had looked the first time he saw her, but he knew that he certainly hadn't taken a good look then.

A woman like this was unforgettable.

Good way or bad way, it didn't matter. The way she stepped into the room like a corporate goddess of war will forever be imprinted in any man's memory.

She was hot and official.

The office woman look made several women look extremely appealing but Mrs. Ayame took it to a whole different level.

The strict, condescending aura that emanated from her only made it more appealing, only made him want to get suffocated by her extremely voluptuous body.

Her office clothes screamed power, wealth, and untouchable dominance. Renji, standing beside Haruka's desk and to Ayame's right, couldn't stop staring.

He'd read many hentai where the strict team leader got turned into a slut hentai, so this woman to him was a MILF wet dream made flesh.

She was tall. Nearly six feet in heels. Her legs were endless. Her body was curved from hell. Wide, workload hips flared dramatically.

The pencil skirt she wore was so tight it looked painted on. It rode up to reveal black garter straps and the tops of sheer stockings, pressing tightly into her legs.

And her tits. Fuck. They were K-cup monsters.

They heaved under her office blazer, and Renji could even see the buttons straining to contain the overflow.

There was just enough amount of cleavage for him to know for certain that her coworkers and subordinates stared at her all day in the office.

He could even see a faint black lace bra through the fabric, and her nipples, faintly outlined.

What the hell was this beast of a milf doing in an office?

Even her face. It was sharp and beautiful.

She had high cheekbones, full red lips pressed into a stern, disapproving line, and dark almond eyes that were terrifying behind the designer frames she wore.

Her sleek black hair fell in slight curls down her shoulder. Her posture was rigid with cold authority, one arm holding an expensive black bag while her heels clicked like gunshots as she approached.

The room suddenly began to smell like roses and fresh leather, an expensive perfume she wore as her presence instantly sucked the air from the room.

The classroom door clicked shut.

Mrs Ayame stopped to scan the place.

Haruka gently rose from her desk, her professional facade snapping into place like a mask.

Gone was the kneeling, cock-worshipping slut from moments ago; now she was the composed history teacher, blouse fully buttoned, skirt smoothed, glasses perched perfectly on her nose.

"Mrs. Sada, welcome," she said with formality, gesturing to a chair opposite her desk. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. Please, have a seat."

Ayame nodded curtly. Her piercing dark eyes swept the space for a while longer, then landed on Renji where he lingered near the table, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Renji broke into a respectful smile and nodded politely at her gaze. "Good morning, ma'am."

Ayame's stern expression didn't soften, but her brows arched slightly in recognition. "And who is this?" she asked Haruka.

Renji smirked in his thoughts.

'I'm the guy that's going to own you pretty soon.' Outwardly, he kept his expression neutral, innocent.

Haruka smiled warmly, though Renji caught the faint flush on her cheeks from their earlier encounter.

"This is Renji Kenshiro, one of our top students. He's representing Seihou High in the upcoming Highschool Arts Competition."

Ayame's analytical eyes turned fully on him now, dissecting him like a financial report.

Then she pursed her red lips. "So you're the one who got the spot," she said finally with an appraising tone. "Congratulations. Do try not to disappoint the school."

That was the end of her interest. For a woman as powerful and busy as Ayame, she didn't care for lesser beings like Renji.

"Thank you, ma'am," Renji replied anyway with politeness, dipping his head.

Ayame turned back to Haruka. "Miss Minami, If we can have our… discussion now?"

"Of course," Haruka agreed smoothly. "Renji, would you excuse us? Thank you for stopping by."

Renji nodded, slinging his bag higher. "Sure thing, Miss Haruka."

He turned to leave, but as he reached the door, his curiosity got the better of him and he turned back for a quick glance at Ayame's fat ass.

At the same moment, Ayame had turned around to get one final look at the boy, and even though Renji had gotten a good look of her fat ass straining under that skirt, he was suddenly met with her eyes.

Shit!

He snapped his head forward immediately, face heating as he pushed out the door and into the empty hallway, heart pounding with a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

Renji paused there, looking left and right. He wondered if he should head into the adjacent classroom straight away or wait a little for the other moms to arrive.

He had no way to know for sure when they would.

Suddenly, his pricking ears heard the sound of two sets of footsteps approaching from around the corner: one sharp and purposeful, the other heavier, more grounded.

'It's them!' he thought.

Quickly, he ducked behind a row of lockers, pressing into the shadows.

After waiting a moment, once the footsteps got even closer, he peeked through the slats.

First he saw Miyako Endo, Haru's mother.

He recognized her because she was dressed in her detective clothes.

She was very slender, her body lithe and athletic like a coiled spring, but blessed with a large pair of round boobs that strained against her fitted black blazer.

She had really dark straight hair that fell to her shoulders in a precise cut, framing a sharp, womanly face.

Her lips were thin and her eyes were hazel eyes. She wore tailored black pants that hugged her toned legs, ending in practical boots, a badge glinting on her belt.

She was the kind of woman one would see in a Playboy magazine. Her figure was extremely aesthetic, with the feminine curves of a teenage girl.

Every part of her was toned, except for the plumpness of her chest mounds and ass mounds. Those tits and that butt were funbags of fat deserving to be squeezed and fucked all day.

"I just can't believe that boy sometimes," Renji heard her say to the woman beside her, Jennifer Sato, Jiro's mother.

She was something else entirely.

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