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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.

“Oh Brucie! Wake up, Brucie!” I called, the big German Shepherd dozily raising his head from where he had been asleep on my bed. He liked my smell, so he'd pretty much claimed it as his, now that I was no longer sleeping there myself. “Play time, Brucie!” I said, widening the door so he could see I was naked, giving my pussy a few gentle slaps. That sure woke him up in a hurry! His claws kicked my blanket up behind him as he scrambled down to the floor, eagerly shoving his muzzle between my thighs and beginning to lick.

“I won’t mock someone for believing in God, only for believing in men who claim to speak on God’s behalf. Now, why are you trying to kill me? I will be sorely disappointed if it’s just because of all that old business with Seraph and the Knight’s Sheath.”“I am ready to die for my church, to keep their secrets.”