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She peeled herself off her father’s leg, her panties practically glued to the hairs on his leg and pulled the sheet back up and over him, taking one last look at his steadily deflating cock and balls, both shining in the moonlight from her efforts. Then, taking care not to swallow or choke on her mouthful, she tiptoed out of the room, grabbing her phone from her nightstand and into the bathroom where she flicked on the lights.

Noah then grabbed Viktor’s mangled legs and began swinging him around, smashing him against the ground over and over again, just gentle enough to keep Viktor from dying. The broken warrior inevitably blacked out, but there was no escape. It wasn’t just about punishing Viktor; Noah had to ensure that “Reiss” would be kicked out of the tournament.

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.