jess miller

Sophia smiled and blushed. “It’s like a dream. We can finally live our lives true to each other, no longer having to hide, no longer kept apart by family or obligation. Every night, I get to fall asleep beside her in our warm bed, and every morning, I open my eyes, and she’s right there with me. We get to spend our days and nights together, talking, laughing, whispering. If not for you, I don’t think we ever could have been blessed with such a life, with such freedom and happiness. Thank you for everything.”

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.

“You want to be treated like a whore? This is how a whore gets treated. Fucked when and how I want to.” I pulled my cock from her pussy and pushed it into her ass crack, searching for her tight hole. I let go of her arms. “Spread your ass for me.”“No!” she said sharply. “No way.” I pushed harder against her anus.