lucia pgr

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.

He then charged towards Thera with mana radiating from the tip of his horn and flowing over him like fire around a meteor. Every footfall shook the ground as though he was made of solid steel, yet his speed was remarkable. Thera reformed one of her whips and swung it to the side, grabbing the ground and then using it to pull her out of Cain’s way. He continued his charge towards the edge of the ring. A magical barrier protected the audience from spells, but the spectators in his path still scrambled to move. They were right to flee, as Cain hit the stands like a runaway semi, smashing through the wall around the ring and bringing down several levels of seats. By some miracle, no one was killed, but that wasn’t to say there were no casualties. Not all of the spectators had managed to escape the destruction.

She jolted back to reality when her dad plopped down on the couch by her feet. As usual he turned on the TV just for the quiet background noise and for something to stare at and ate his dinner as fast as he could. When he was finished, he put his bowl down on the coffee table.