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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.

“Your tongue, mister. Lick my pussy.” Keeping the teacher satisfied was always one of my goals, so I laid flat between her legs, put her legs over my shoulders and began licking and sucking and pulling on her pussy. I sucked her soft clit into my mouth where my tongue could reach every spot. “Oh God…” Carol moaned quietly. “Yeah…fuck yeah. Her pussy juices were coating my face and wetting the comforter. She took my hands and placed them on her tits. Her nipples were rock hard. “Play with my boobs. Be rough. Pinch, pull, tw…OW!” I must have pulled too hard. “Ow…that hurt…it’s okay, don’t stop. Just a little easier.”

She lay there perfectly still for a long while, feeling her racing heartbeat against her fathers which steadily slowed with each passing breath. After what seemed like an hour, a muffled snore erupted from her father’s mouth and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She was dripping with sweat from the stress, but her pussy was even more wet. The entire time she had lain there, her father’s cock was filling her entirely, throbbing slowly, teasing her to the edge despite the fear. She barely dared to move as she knew that if she slid off his cock now, she would surely orgasm and collapse on top of him. And if that happened, he wasn’t going to sleep through that.