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Noah took a sip of tea. “I can understand why you would come to me for this, why you sought my judgment, but I am the wrong person to go to for ethical counseling. I have no moral code, no righteous instinct. I have done truly wicked things in the past, and the only regret I feel is the effort I wasted on amoral endeavors that failed to bear fruit. I’m in no place to judge you for what happened.

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.

“Swallow it! Get my fucking cock down your throat!” I pushed harder and she took another inch before she gagged and started coughing again. She grabbed my dick and stroked it while she controlled her cough. When she slowed coughing, she locked my gaze with those eyes and stroked my saliva slick cock with both hands.