doomfist formal

I had the worst crush on Mrs. B. It was in her class that I learned that I have a fatal weakness for redheads. I loved to watch her move through the room. She wore skirts and dresses that were too short for female students, but no one complained. It’s just who she was. She had lovely legs, no reason not to let the world see them. When she wore pants (they were just recently allowed), they were skintight, revealing a cute tight little ass. Tops were also tight, often with some cleavage showing between her pretty B-cup breasts.

“So, assassin, reveler, or bounty hunter?” he asked through the clone.The shrouded warrior, standing on the roof, formed two more rings in his hands. “Executioner!” He leaped down, swinging the rings like chakram blades.

Her heartbeat raced wildly, and her breathing came hard through her nose as she sat there in silence with her lips wrapped around her father’s dick waiting for his orgasm to end. The cum had pooled at the bottom of her mouth, like a lake of magma that jiggled with each ragged breath. She dropped her tongue into it and lifted, letting it drip off the sides of her tongue. Finally, her father began to soften in her mouth, and she felt safe pulling away. She squeezed the head with her lips, making sure not to let a drop escape and with a final jerk his semi-flaccid penis slipped out, bouncing off her chin and back onto his thigh.