hetalia spain

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.

She enjoyed even this feeling as her dad’s leg hair rubbed against her shaved legs. She wore only a night shirt and a pair of panties, so she got to experience the warmth and feeling all the way up to her thighs. She raised one of her legs up and over his own without even thinking, hoping to wrap around his big tree trunk like leg. Doing it as carefully as possible so as not to wake him, she tilted on her side and got her right leg over his being careful not to put too much weight on him. Sarah wriggled in delight at the feeling, a big hot and hairy leg that tickled her every time she moved, from the tips of her toes to the inside of her thighs.

“I know that this is all new for you. That last part was new for me too. You made my body feel amazing—better than it ever felt before. Every one of my nerves is still tingling. Please don’t feel bad or guilty—you did exactly what I wanted. I should feel bad for turning you into a…”“…pervert.” I interjected, but smiling now.