tadokoro megumi

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 had the worst crush on Mrs. B. It was in her class that I learned that I have a fatal weakness for redheads. I loved to watch her move through the room. She wore skirts and dresses that were too short for female students, but no one complained. It’s just who she was. She had lovely legs, no reason not to let the world see them. When she wore pants (they were just recently allowed), they were skintight, revealing a cute tight little ass. Tops were also tight, often with some cleavage showing between her pretty B-cup breasts.

He seemed a little disoriented by the way Mom was reacting, but no amount of confusion could make him turn down my pussy when it was being offered! He hopped right up onto my back and began to thrust himself at me, his hot, somewhat pointy doggie-dick slipping out of his sheath and poking my thighs as I reached back and spread my lips.