kazuharu fukuyama

Sarah leaned down, her face right above the base of his cock and smelled it. It was like heaven. She pushed her nose down onto his cock inhaling as she rubbed it up along the underside, relishing the slow burn. Finally reaching the head of his dick her nose pressed up against something wet and she pulled away. A long string of precum stretched up from his dick to the end of her nose. Breaking it midway with her fingers she gathered the strand around her hand and brought it to her nose and smelled. This was the purest the smell had been. Though every part of father’s body smelled unique, it had a general musk to it, and this little smear of precum on her knuckles was nothing but that musk.

Towards the middle of the semester, Mrs. B. devised an assignment where we had to act out a soliloquy from any Shakespeare play. I chose Marc Antony’s “Friends, Romans, Countrymen” speech from Julius Caesar. As we had to be in costume for extra credit, I brought a flat sheet to school to fashion into a toga of sorts. There was a supply closet in the front of the room where people could change. Boys would pretend to peek in the closet when girls were changing. There wasn’t much to see for the most part, as girls might throw a long night gown over their clothes to play Juliet. The door locked on the outside when closed completely, so the few kids with major changes could do so with some privacy.

“Okay, sweetie,” she agreed, leaning down to kiss me softly in my hair. “We won't tell him, not until and unless you're absolutely, one hundred percent sure you want him to know. And if you decide you never do, that's okay too. Whatever you want.”