scott pilgrim vs the world ramona

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.

Once she was settled and sure her dad wasn’t stirring, she could finally appreciate her prize. Just a few inches below her was her father’s penis. Easing herself down a bit more she buried her nose right above the base of it and into the thicket of his pubes. She inhaled deeply and shuddered. It was just as good as she remembered. She pressed down further burying her mouth as well into the scratchy patch of hair and continued to sniff. Sarah moved her nose all around the patch of hair, wanting to enjoy every part of it before moving on.

“Good girl, Brianna!” she laughed wickedly as I involuntarily painted myself with my mess. “Cum for Mommy! Cum on Mommy's cock like the obedient little sissy bitch you are! Now what do we say, Brianna? What do we say?” From her tone of voice, I knew just what she expected.