rikka takarada

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.

I kept kissing her through my last couple of aftershocks, but as I looked up into her eyes there was no disguising the bashful eagerness I saw; she wanted it this time, I could tell! I crawled up to give it to her, and I was barely even in range before she was grabbing my ass and yanking me onto her mouth, forcing her tongue as deep as she could reach! I squealed and laughed, Daddy coming up behind me once again to cuddle me and play with my boobs. But amazing as it all was, I was really starting to get worn out! I managed to hold out for three, since Mom seemed to be enjoying herself so much, but that was it for me; Daddy even had to help move me, I was so worn out, snuggling me down against her while he did the same on her other side, draping his arm over us both and holding us tight with his hand cupping my ass.

“Die under your own terms, maybe, but I will not let you slip into oblivion easily. There are so many wonderful, horrible things I can do to make you spill those secrets, to make you bargain for a quick death. You’ll try to maintain your dignity as long as you can. I have no doubt that you’ll put up a valiant effort; you are quite strong, after all. However, you will inevitably break and curse your own stubbornness for not talking sooner.”