cyanide and happiness bee

“I am Noah, the Wandering Spirit, and I think I speak on behalf of the crowds when I say that a win by default is in no way satisfying. These people deserve to watch a real fight. I’m sure Reiss is still on the premises. Give me the chance to find him.”

Mrs. B. was a great teacher for 10th grade English. Funny, engaging, personable—and a bit flirty. She was in her late-20s, just a couple years out of The University of Michigan, cute, nice body and flaming red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She knew the boys all lusted after her and she did nothing to discourage our interest. Students even gave her a nickname, “Bubbles.” The administration was not pleased, but Mrs. B. didn’t seem to mind. She liked the attention. Oh, and I think that we actually learned a lot of English Lit between the horsing around.

He couldn't understand me, of course, but he couldn't have cared less; he knew what to do. I gasped loudly as I felt his knot sliding inside, swelling immediately once it was in me, sealing us tight. He was thrusting his hips even faster now, secure in the knowledge that he couldn't come out, taking his prize just as hard and fast as he could. I moaned happily, but I didn't let myself close my eyes. I stared up into the bed, and the look of absolute shock on Mom's face as she watched her supposedly innocent little baby girl getting doggie-fucked right in front of her, made me cum in about ten seconds flat!