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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.

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.

He attacked Ingram, and the two went at it again, exchanging kicks and punches while the audience cheered them on. The winged fighters were throwing everything they had at each other, with adrenaline flooding their veins and the blood steaming as it flowed from their wounds. Every lesson they had ever learned, every technique they had acquired, every spark of experience they had, they directed into their moves, punching and kicking as hard as they could, with mana roaring around their limbs.