boombox phighting

Without another word her dad wrapped his big hands around her left foot and got to work. Gently, but firmly he warmed the soles of her feet, squeezing just hard enough to release the pressure without hurting her. Using his thumbs he pressed along the arch of her foot and squeezed each of her toes while folding them forward and back. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a trained masseuse this was doing wonders in helping her relax.

“You can thank Shannon for that. She has some kind of miracle gift when it comes to teas and soups. I can’t explain it; she gets the flavoring exactly right every single time.” Sophia giggled and continued drinking. Down the hall, Shannon, who was doing her best not to eavesdrop, blushed and smiled with her ears twitching happily. “As for what you should do, I’d say you’re on the right path already. Like you said before, your literature program has no future without Cyrilo, or you for that matter, so if either of you are imprisoned or executed, your dream of changing the world dies. You truly can help people by bringing about the Age of Information. Don’t throw that away to alleviate your guilt.

“Uh…sure…Carol.” At that point I wasn’t thinking much of anything, concentrating as her slippery, soapy hand slid along my shaft and she pulled on the skin on my ball sack. Mrs. B.—Carol—got on her knees and came face-to-face with my throbbing dick, pink from the steamy shower. I thought she was going to blow me, but she had another surprise for me.