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“Oh, give it to me, Daddy!” I whimpered, lifting my knees and resting them on her thighs, opening myself up so she could see better. “Give me your cum! I want it so bad, Daddy! I want to feel it filling me up! Oh, please, Daddy! Give me your cum!”

Mrs. B. was very different, though. Our class only met once a week, but there were times when she and I would cross paths in the course of a day. I noticed that either she must have changed her path to avoid me or averted her gaze when we did cross paths. She did not appear to be her usual ebullient self. She was noticeably absent from her office during times I would usually drop in to say hello. I guessed the experience was not the life changing event for her as it was for me.

“You can thank Shannon for that. She has some kind of miracle gift when it comes to teas and soups. I can’t explain it; she gets the flavoring exactly right every single time.” Sophia giggled and continued drinking. Down the hall, Shannon, who was doing her best not to eavesdrop, blushed and smiled with her ears twitching happily. “As for what you should do, I’d say you’re on the right path already. Like you said before, your literature program has no future without Cyrilo, or you for that matter, so if either of you are imprisoned or executed, your dream of changing the world dies. You truly can help people by bringing about the Age of Information. Don’t throw that away to alleviate your guilt.