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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.

“If God was angry at you, do you not think him capable of clearly telling you? You say you have dirtied your soul in the eyes of God, but that is because you feel that way, not because God appeared and told you. There are two errors that people make regarding their faith. The first is believing that they understand God, that God shares their values and thinks like they do. To think that you can know what God feels, wants, believes, and demands is the ultimate hubris, surpassed only by declaring yourself God.

“Thank you, Rachel,” I gasped, blushing brightly in embarrassment, my too-sensitive dick still held tightly in her hand. I knew I'd just end up saying it anyways, if she had to go back to squeezing my balls again, so I might as well just give her what she wanted without complaint, and save myself the pain. “Thank you for making me cum with your huge, amazing cock!”