makoto sf

The next time our class met, I tried all period to catch her eye, without success. I dawdled after class to be the last one to leave. As I approached the door, Mrs. B. cut me off and closed the door, leaving the two of us face to face. She looked stern as she faced me. Still hot as fuck but stern.

Once she’d finally found a good spot, she remembered what she was trying to do. Slowly and steadily, she brought her hand up and over his chest, the light sheet rippling above her the only thing keeping them from the warm autumn night. Again, she brought it down past the end of the hair on his belly and only stopped once she felt that rough patch of hair just above his groin. With only the moon filtering through the sheet above she could barely make it out as she peered over her dad’s waist. Short and curly, much curlier than his armpit hair, pitch-black, though most of his hair was with only a bit of grey poking through.

But that was only the beginning, of course—Daddy was just getting started! He began really giving it to me after that, pounding in hard, punishing my insides in the best possible way, just how he knew I loved it most! I could tell Mom could hardly believe what she was seeing, gasping and whimpering in sympathy with the absolute beating I was taking, whether I was enjoying it or not. I made sure to turn my head after every orgasm, ensuring that both Mommy's titties were equally marked up from my teeth. She wasn't going to be wearing any cleavage-revealing tops for the next couple of days, that was for sure!