miura n315

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.

“April!” Mom gasped again. She was sitting up in bed now, but Daddy had moved in behind her, wrapping her in his arms so she couldn't interfere. Then Bruce finally found his mark, sliding in deep.

Instead, she lowered herself down, her naked body embracing his as her breasts pressed into his pecs and her legs squeezed against his thighs. Her crotch grinded against his bush and she enjoyed the rough feeling of it scratching along her shaved pussy but stopped when she felt a prod against her cheek. Slowly and steadily her father was also becoming aroused, as much as clockwork now as Sarah’s visits. His firm head pressed harder against Sarah’s cheek, so she shifted to the side without thinking to give it room. With a spring like motion, it bounced up against his belly and back out, the head of his cock grazing her pussy lips hanging above.