dhmis colin

“You can't be serious!” she gasped, as Daddy slipped himself out from behind her and pushed her down to the bed.“Why not?” I asked. “It's not like it tastes bad, or anything! I've tried it loads of times. It's different than Daddy's is, for sure, but it isn't bad.”

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.

“You should tell them you’re going for tacos.” As the phone started ringing, I looked over at Carol on the bed. She was on her back, facing me, legs spread wide, with two fingers spreading her labia exposing her bright pink labia. She mouthed the words “eat tacos” as I tried to talk to my Mom. Mom was fine with me not being home, but she always tried to tell me all about her life. I have no idea what my Mom said. My eyes were fixed on Carol’s slender fingers massaging her clit. I had dropped my towel and was stroking my now fully hard cock furiously as I watched Carol’s back arch as she came quietly. A significant wet spot appeared on the comforter. Mom prattled on on the phone.