j'zargo

Mrs. B. was a great teacher for 10th grade English. Funny, engaging, personable—and a bit flirty. She was in her late-20s, just a couple years out of The University of Michigan, cute, nice body and flaming red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She knew the boys all lusted after her and she did nothing to discourage our interest. Students even gave her a nickname, “Bubbles.” The administration was not pleased, but Mrs. B. didn’t seem to mind. She liked the attention. Oh, and I think that we actually learned a lot of English Lit between the horsing around.

But that was only the beginning, of course—Daddy was just getting started! He began really giving it to me after that, pounding in hard, punishing my insides in the best possible way, just how he knew I loved it most! I could tell Mom could hardly believe what she was seeing, gasping and whimpering in sympathy with the absolute beating I was taking, whether I was enjoying it or not. I made sure to turn my head after every orgasm, ensuring that both Mommy's titties were equally marked up from my teeth. She wasn't going to be wearing any cleavage-revealing tops for the next couple of days, that was for sure!

After the third round of fights, the tournament was suspended until the next day, and everyone returned home. Sitting at the desk in Valon’s room, Noah was busy replicating the headband he got from Saimallah. He had already used alchemy to create an exact replica, including the engraved runes, and was now applying a suitable ink. As he worked, he scrutinized the formula repeatedly, making sure it did what it was supposed to. For all he knew, putting it on could brand him with a curse. In his long years across the multiverse, he had learned to always look a gift horse in the mouth. Reading the formula was like reading a contract, and he had to be wary of fine print.