buglizard

Without another word her dad wrapped his big hands around her left foot and got to work. Gently, but firmly he warmed the soles of her feet, squeezing just hard enough to release the pressure without hurting her. Using his thumbs he pressed along the arch of her foot and squeezed each of her toes while folding them forward and back. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a trained masseuse this was doing wonders in helping her relax.

“Good! Now kiss my bare ass and get out of here and go to class.” I did as I was told. As my lips touched her ass cheek I slid a finger between her legs, parting her wet labia. She slapped my hand away. “You are so bad!” she said, straightening up and smoothing her dress. “I think I created a monster! Now go!”

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.