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“Oh you are so adorable! Yes it is illegal in this hick state, but so are blow jobs and probably fucking with the girl on top. Just another reason never to tell anyone.” Her face darkened for a second. “You haven’t told anyone, have you? Anyone?”“Not a word. Promise. Wouldn’t know how to describe it anyway.”

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.

With that checked of her Todo list, Sarah moved down past his penis to the low hanging fruit of his testicles. Hanging there so delicately, his balls were hard to ignore. She leaned in and gave them a smell too. The smell had the same level of intensity, but with a tang of salt, just as amazing but slightly different in its own way. She stayed here a good few minutes, sniffing in hard and breathing out a sigh of delight. Though that wasn’t all that she had planned.