cokedick

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.

A moment of silence passed before Tarnas cleared his throat and began to speak. “That truly is an unforgivable crime. You are right to feel guilty, to hate yourself for the things you’ve done. That is what you are supposed to feel, and to admit it now means you are on the correct path. It means you are learning from your mistakes and want to do right. Whether or not you can ever truly make up for what you have done, you can still become a better man than you were before. You can become a man who helps instead of hurts, who strives to make the world a better place.”

But that was only the beginning, of course—Daddy was just getting started! He began really giving it to me after that, pounding in hard, punishing my insides in the best possible way, just how he knew I loved it most! I could tell Mom could hardly believe what she was seeing, gasping and whimpering in sympathy with the absolute beating I was taking, whether I was enjoying it or not. I made sure to turn my head after every orgasm, ensuring that both Mommy's titties were equally marked up from my teeth. She wasn't going to be wearing any cleavage-revealing tops for the next couple of days, that was for sure!