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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.

Sorted, this is the parent post for everything now,art so good it makes me wish i was into feet.this Series is awesome, I hope it continues.To the moderators: I think this post should ideally replace the other posts I uploaded under IDs 228766, 228768, 228769, as this is just those 3 posts combined to better stand alone.

“Yeah maybe.” My spent cock slid out of Carol’s ass with a wet pop, followed by a creamy gush of my cum. I flopped onto the sofa. Carol plopped down beside me, an instant wet spot started oozing onto the leather cushion. “Should I get a towel or something? That’s quite the mess.”“I’ll lick it up before I go to bed. Or not. Don’t care. I’ll flip the cushion before my husband gets home.”“You never did that before?” I asked.