joseph desaulnier

Saimallah put on his headband, and Noah could see the strain of the magical binding, but it wasn’t what caused him to lower his head. It wasn’t enough to be called a bow, but the act showed evident respect and a revised impression. “Please proceed.”

I could hardly believe this was really about to happen! I was standing outside Mom and Daddy's room, completely naked and listening intently, squeezing my small, firm titties and slowly playing with my wet, bald little pink pussy as I imagined what was happening inside. Mom had only gotten back from Grandpa's place earlier that afternoon, and she was moaning happily in anticipation of what Daddy was about to do to her to make up for lost time. But I knew something she didn't know! I bit my lip, waiting, and soon enough Daddy was opening the door.

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.