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One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.

“It's okay, baby,” she said. “I'm sure we'll end up taking turns. But for tonight, I just really want to remember what it was like when you were little, and you used to come sleep with us when you were scared. That means you get the middle.”

“Oh, God...” she moaned, her eyes wide and fearful, but she didn't try to stop me as I climbed up and lowered myself into place against her mouth. And this time, since she had her hands free, I even got to enjoy her clutching at my butt! Daddy snuggled into place behind me just like last time, kissing my neck and playing with my titties. He'd had enough time to get hard again now, and he was rubbing pleasantly along the cleft of my ass. We'd definitely have to do something about that soon... but not just yet, not until Mommy was done making me cum again, first!