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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.

“Yeah sorry, dad. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Sarah whispered back to him, keeping her voice as low and as calm as she could and wishing fervently in her mind for him to drift back to sleep.“S’Ok,” her father mumbled his hand falling away from her bottom and coming back to rest at his side.

With another push, she sunk another inch, his head rubbing up against her g-spot and she moaned again. Unable to help herself she pushed hard, sinking further and stretching her recently virgin hole harder. With a final shove, she bottomed out on his cock, his balls pressing up against her, and his heat throbbing slowly within her. God, she didn’t know she ended up here or what she was going to do now, but she was going to enjoy this moment.