catra x shera

Her dad nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. He gently pinched her big toe and asked, “How about a deal? I give you massage if you go to bed right after, how does that sound?”

I could hardly believe this was really about to happen! I was standing outside Mom and Daddy's room, completely naked and listening intently, squeezing my small, firm titties and slowly playing with my wet, bald little pink pussy as I imagined what was happening inside. Mom had only gotten back from Grandpa's place earlier that afternoon, and she was moaning happily in anticipation of what Daddy was about to do to her to make up for lost time. But I knew something she didn't know! I bit my lip, waiting, and soon enough Daddy was opening the door.

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.