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His wings were aching and threatening to snap, but he forced himself to his feet and returned to the sky. He took after Ingram, once again attacking him from behind. The two of them crashed atop the edge of the arena, overlooking the crowds. It was little more than a cement lip encircling the arena, offering some protection from the sun and the weather. The two got to their feet, both bruised and exhausted, with the spectators cheering as they spotted the combatants overhead.

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.

“Oh, take it you little whore!” she squealed, her hips jerking powerfully against my ass, the hot, molten flood of her seed making me gasp as I felt it shooting deeply up my ass! “Take it! Take my fucking cum!” Wave after wave she gave it to me, her huge, amazing cock pulsing and throbbing in time with the unbelievable pounding of her hips. Then suddenly she stopped, almost as if somebody had thrown her switch, buried to the hilt but completely immobile. She stayed there for a long, slow moment, eyes closed in rapture, barely even twitching but utterly lost to the ecstasy of her release. She pulled out slowly, leaving me strangely empty and wanting, supporting herself with her hand on my stomach as she tottered unsteadily around to my side in her heels. She bent low over top of me, her huge, amazing tits pressing warm and heavy against my chest.