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Well, I didn’t see her soon. I didn’t see Carol again. Between vacation and soccer camp I wasn’t around that much, and we could never connect when I was. When school started in the fall, I learned that Mrs. B had to quit. She was pregnant again, and in those days, teachers in our state couldn’t be pregnant. It might give students ideas. If they only knew.

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.

“Show me what you’ve learned then!” With that, she ground her wet pussy into my face. I tongue-fucked her warm soft hole while massaging her clit with my thumb and finger. My nose was practically poking her asshole. It made me think of another section of Dad’s book, but I knew that would be too far. I was plunging her pussy with my tongue, and Mrs. B. was thrusting her hips, pushing herself back onto my tongue. Suddenly her head flew back and her back arched as she came hard in my mouth. Her long red hair tickled my forehead. “Yeeeessss! Fuck…Fuck…Jim…Fuck…” I could feel the goosebumps rise on her skin under my hands as her body trembled with delight.