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“Well, I was going for sex slave, but now that you mention it, we did some of that too.” She pulled me closer and kissed me hard, slipping her tongue inside my mouth. I wondered if she could taste her ass on my tongue, but I kissed her back. She took her hands from my face and wrapped her fingers around my rock hard shaft, never breaking her kiss. She used her thumb to spread the wad of precum from the tip all around the head.“Mmmmmm…you’re hard again. Good. You’re amazing. Can you cum again?”

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.

Omg these beads are rough on my anus!Wow the whole commentary down here about aesthetics vs. realism took me right out of it. 0/10 orgasm, didn't even noticing I was coming til it was over.I like how, she struggles, and then just gives up, and accepts that she's not going anywhere.