edgerunner sasha

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.

That was when Daddy moved into place behind me, just as I was really getting into it. He grabbed and lifted me by my hips, and I obediently pulled up my knees, holding myself up as he pushed himself into me again. I gasped loudly, and I guess the sudden exhale of breath over Mom's clit must have really felt good, because so did she. Either that, or she was finally coming to grips with the idea of Daddy fucking me, and she just liked getting to see it again. Maybe both, actually; I hoped it was both. Daddy started thrusting, and I wrapped my arms around Mom's thighs, holding tight and securing myself in place so the movement wouldn't make me accidentally hurt her with my teeth. It was so, so much harder than they made it look in porn, trying to concentrate on eating Mom's pussy while I was also getting fucked! But I found I was gradually getting better at it, and by the time Daddy was finally cumming in me again I think I'd managed to give her one for every two that he'd given me. Not as many as I'd hoped, but I think that was pretty good for my first time, and only having my mouth to work with instead of Daddy's miracle cock!

The school year was coming to an end and I was busying myself with spring sports. I was doing track and field, distance events like the 1,500-meter run. I also tried my hand at pole vaulting, which did not go well. I had to quit vaulting before I really hurt myself. One particularly grueling Friday at practice, I noticed Mrs. B. in the bleachers watching. Faculty often wandered out to watch teams practice or play, but Mrs. B was rarely among them. She lingered when the practice was over, so I went over to say hi. She seemed genuinely happy to see me, even though she had been quite aloof in class or in the hallway.