left 4 dead animation

“Good girl, Brianna! Good girl!” she purred, moving her hand back to my shaft. “And since you asked so nicely...” she laughed and started thrusting again, slowly at first but gradually picking up speed. Whatever she'd given me, whether it was Viagra, or ecstasy, or some cocktail of the two with who-knows-what thrown in on the side, it wasn't long before I started noticing the effect. I could feel the pressure building and building, like a heat at the base of my shaft, growing to a fire, then an inferno, searching for a release.

Watching him work, the expertise at his fingertips, it was like watching a masterful performance. Even the act of dissection was artful. He was so knowledgeable, so capable, and he would explain how he used these techniques in the past to help people. My fear quickly turned to admiration, and I realized that Lord Noah could not be judged by such terms as good or evil. He is neither black nor white, but gray at both its darkest and brightest, a gray as deep as the ocean.

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.