crush crush desdemona

Thank goodness her dad couldn’t see her face, the result of last night had dried into a shiny flaky layer of lacquer all around her mouth. Sarah quickly washed the last of the evidence away and returned downstairs. Just as she sat back down on her stool her father slid a plate of eggs and toast in front of her.

Mrs. B smiled up at me. “Well…?” She put her hand behind my neck, pulled me closer and gave me the best, most sensual kiss I’d had to that time. Definitely in the top three kisses of my life. I pulled her closer and reciprocated as best I could. I felt her naked leg slip between my legs, and she rubbed her thigh against my tortured shaft through my jeans. I so did not want to cum in my pants at that moment. Mrs. B. saved me. While still kissing me hard, Mrs. B. ran her hand down my bare chest and moaned softly.

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.