fen fpe

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.

She moaned louder, squeezing my hand and nodding her head. Daddy was clearly enjoying himself too as I caught him in the corner of my eye, grinning wickedly and slowly stroking his still mostly-flaccid cock as he watched the show. Mom was slower than I normally was, either because I didn't really know what she liked yet, playing with her clitty, or just because she was still so conflicted about this whole thing, and her doubt was getting in her way. She did still get there though, gasping and trembling, only maybe ten seconds or so before Brucie started cumming as well. She was still shaking through the aftershocks when her eyes suddenly went wide again.

“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.”