sam hickelspoon

She lowered her phone to her chest and stared at him with her red watery eyes, dark circles underneath like a panda.“That bad, huh?”Sarah lay on her back while her dad got his dinner. Despite being barely conscious today, her mind had gone back again and again on the night before.Her dad’s penis.Her father’s penis.Her daddy’s hard penis.

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.

“And why would I do that? You tried to kill me, remember? Maybe I should just strangle the life from you, or would you prefer a quick beheading? The choice is yours, unless you can give me a reason to spare your life. But I’m curious, weren’t you locked up with the other zealots when my friends at the Knight’s Sheath revealed the church’s conspiracy?”“I have nothing to say to you!”