wendy's mascot

I had the worst crush on Mrs. B. It was in her class that I learned that I have a fatal weakness for redheads. I loved to watch her move through the room. She wore skirts and dresses that were too short for female students, but no one complained. It’s just who she was. She had lovely legs, no reason not to let the world see them. When she wore pants (they were just recently allowed), they were skintight, revealing a cute tight little ass. Tops were also tight, often with some cleavage showing between her pretty B-cup breasts.

Looking up from his balls, Sarah found her father’s penis. This time standing fully erect. It angled up and stood firmly just over his stomach, skin pulled taught as it was fully engorged. After all her attention to his balls it was no wonder it was ready for action. Remembering her sleeping log of a father, she listened again to his breathing, but found it just as steady as before. Guess the machine was working like a charm, or at least the pills were.

Down below, he heard a knock on the front door, and Shannon answered. The brief moment of distraction snapped his clone back as if it had been yanked with a tether. Once again, he was left gasping for air and dripping sweat. He deactivated his magic and ripped off his headband, immediately sighing in relief. That sensation alone was worth the stress of training, as if slipping into a hot bath.