edtropolis

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.

Sarah didn’t say a word in response but pushed her feet onto her dad’s lap.

That same night, Sarah was up again at midnight, like clockwork now. Like a swimmer improving on their time, it took her less than two minutes before she was suckling on her father’s dick like a pacifier. This night she was not as desperate as the last few and takes her time. Sprawled out lazily across her father’s legs, knowing that it won’t cause him any distress, her cheek rests on his waist while she has tilted his cock to the side and slipped it into her mouth. Sarah sucks on his cock long and slow, savouring the smell and taste as much as she can, and it is almost an hour until his penis finally gives in and spurts his load into her mouth.