rikka takarada

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.

“It's not that,” I said, trying to figure out the words to explain, when I only partly understood how I was feeling about it myself. “I know he'd be okay with it... and we might end up going there, eventually. But once he knows, there's no taking that back. I... I just need more time to think about it, first, before we go there. Right now, he's just my Grandpa, nothing else, and I'm just his innocent little baby girl... I'm not sure I'm ready to give that up, not yet.”

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.