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“That’s easy,” I replied. “You telegraph what feels good. I just do it again. You don’t exactly have a poker pussy. I love feeling you cum when I lick you.”

As if she had set an alarm, Sarah awoke just after midnight. Slipping without a sound from her bed and creeping down the hall, she strode into her father’s room again. This time the hesitation had left her completely. With a clean and gentle movement, she swept the sheet of his bed and locked onto her resting father’s member. Crawling up his bed between his legs, she hovered over his crotch, leant down and sucked his flaccid cock into her mouth. She swallowed his thick, soft sausage down to the base, licking the head and breathing in his thick scent. It didn’t take long for his cock to harden, with each throb growing thicker and longer in her mouth until it pushed her back.

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.