frosty jim

As like all the other times she spent a minute at least inhaling the scent of his crotch, but holding off on the usual tongue bath, she instead continued her climb. Her slim stomach and breasts slid along her father’s muscular and hairy chest until she was lying almost directly over him. He puffed away noisily under the tubes of his CPAP machine none the wiser, a frustrating device that prevented her from exploring his mouth as well.

“I haven’t had a good fuck buddy since college. If you think this felt good, it will only get better. I’m a teacher after all. Just don’t tell a soul anything about this and I will fuck you as much as you want.” She paused. “But I’d like you to do something. Maybe you don’t want to.” She looked guilty.

The school year was coming to an end and I was busying myself with spring sports. I was doing track and field, distance events like the 1,500-meter run. I also tried my hand at pole vaulting, which did not go well. I had to quit vaulting before I really hurt myself. One particularly grueling Friday at practice, I noticed Mrs. B. in the bleachers watching. Faculty often wandered out to watch teams practice or play, but Mrs. B was rarely among them. She lingered when the practice was over, so I went over to say hi. She seemed genuinely happy to see me, even though she had been quite aloof in class or in the hallway.