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“Okay, sweetie,” she agreed, leaning down to kiss me softly in my hair. “We won't tell him, not until and unless you're absolutely, one hundred percent sure you want him to know. And if you decide you never do, that's okay too. Whatever you want.”

“Good. Then you’ll have lots of cum for me tonight.” With that, she began sucking my cock hard, dragging her fingernails across my taint and balls, stretching the skin. As her head bobbed up and down on my shaft, I grabbed her hair and pulled hard, making her motion stop. I pushed my cock into her mouth, she couldn’t dodge me. When the head hit the back of her throat, I held her tight and pushed harder, trying to get my dick down her throat. Suddenly she coughed and gagged and I let her off my cock. When she stopped coughing, she said

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.