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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.

“Good boy, Brucie! Good boy!” I encouraged him, ruffling his neck. “Mommy's turn this time!” And with a tongue-lolling doggie grin, he finally made his move, jumping up onto Mom's back and starting to thrust himself at her. She gasped in some combination of surprise, doubt, and fear, and I took her hand in mine, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Try to get a little lower, if you can,” I advised her. “If you let him get all four paws on the ground he'll be way less likely to scratch you with his claws. It'll feel better, too, if you give him more leverage for thrusting.” She did as I said, lowering her hips and pressing those huge, hanging tits firmly into the carpet, her eyes clenched closed as she waited for it to happen. Bruce was having a little trouble finding his mark, as he always did, so I reached in under her with my other hand and spread her thick, meaty lips with my fingers. That got it done, her eyes popping wide as that hot doggie cock finally slid inside. His claws scratched at the carpet as he tried to reposition himself, giving himself one more deep, forceful drive into her depths.

He then charged towards Thera with mana radiating from the tip of his horn and flowing over him like fire around a meteor. Every footfall shook the ground as though he was made of solid steel, yet his speed was remarkable. Thera reformed one of her whips and swung it to the side, grabbing the ground and then using it to pull her out of Cain’s way. He continued his charge towards the edge of the ring. A magical barrier protected the audience from spells, but the spectators in his path still scrambled to move. They were right to flee, as Cain hit the stands like a runaway semi, smashing through the wall around the ring and bringing down several levels of seats. By some miracle, no one was killed, but that wasn’t to say there were no casualties. Not all of the spectators had managed to escape the destruction.