ban hammer phighting

“Right here.” Carol knelt on the sofa, elbows on the back of the cushion. She bent lower, pushing her ass towards me. “Keep the oil in reach in case we need more.” If she was worried about oil stains on her leather couch, she didn’t show it. She laid her head on the back of the sofa and spread her ass with both hands. Her asshole, now pink from the stretching, was beautiful. “Fuck me.” I stepped up behind her, cock in hand and laid the head against her anus. I started to push. Her asshole was tight, but began to spread against the pressure.

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.

He had never told her what he and Alexis spoke of that snowy morning, never told her the real reason why he had helped her break free of Galvin. If he did, how would she react? Would she become disheartened, accusing him of toying with her for his own selfish desires because he couldn’t let go of the past? Or would she go with it, try to take up the role of his long-departed wife, forsaking her identity, her future, and her relationship with Alexis just to receive his affection? Neither was an outcome he wanted.