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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.

Her hands shot up above her head, one to cover her mouth, while the other reached up to the ceiling to brace herself. Sarah’s body rocked with the most powerful orgasm she ever had. Every part of her trembled, shaking the bed as her toes curled in, but her hand on the ceiling kept her steady. Clapping her hand over her mouth she was barely able to suppress a long moan that came directly from her core. Her eyes were glued to her father watching his breath and listening to his snoring. Finally, her rolling orgasm came to an end, her father letting out a loud snore as he exhaled.

“Just like you, think I got a good night sleep when I needed it after a tough week. Not too sure what I did differently, but I’m feeling like a dream and the weekend hasn’t even started yet.”