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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.

A moment of silence passed before Tarnas cleared his throat and began to speak. “That truly is an unforgivable crime. You are right to feel guilty, to hate yourself for the things you’ve done. That is what you are supposed to feel, and to admit it now means you are on the correct path. It means you are learning from your mistakes and want to do right. Whether or not you can ever truly make up for what you have done, you can still become a better man than you were before. You can become a man who helps instead of hurts, who strives to make the world a better place.”

“Good, you're awake,” a soft, seductive voice purred. I had to force myself to focus again, to see the tall, gorgeous blonde stepping into the room. Even then, I thought surely I had to be hallucinating; she was stunning, her tiny black leather bikini top barely covering her nipples on her huge, gravity-defying DD-cup tits, the matching tight black miniskirt showing off slender, toned legs that seemed to go on forever. “Do you remember me yet, Brian?”