ragna the bloodedge

Her dad laughed, “That’s right, screw ‘em! But I think your friends from volleyball, at least the ones I met, do care about you. Just, sometimes people you care about can do cruel things to you without meaning to.”

Looking back on it, I think it was pretty clear that Mrs. B was sending me signals. At the time, I just thought I was imagining things, why would she be sending me signs? I was just a dumb kid. Sure, I was tall, not bad looking with a muscular body for the time. I got some attention from the cute girls but I was just a dumb kid with a stupid grin who was always hanging around stealing glances at her tits or her lovely legs and ass.

After my boner mishap, either she was getting more daring, or my imagination was running wilder. One day Mrs. B. was wearing one of her short short skirts, no stockings, just muscular shapely legs. She couldn’t help but notice me watching her move around the room. She stopped at the desk of the student in front of me and bent at the waist to look at her paper. When she slid her hands between her thighs and bent a little farther, her skirt raised exposing her panties. They were red. And lacey. I thought she gave me a sidewards glance to see if I noticed. Maybe not. It really didn’t matter, though. As soon as I glimpsed those skimpy panties, I came in my pants. Right then. In class. I’m not proud, but I was only 15, I could cum at a good card trick. I had it bad.