vera king

After my boner mishap, either she was getting more daring, or my imagination was running wilder. One day Mrs. B. was wearing one of her short short skirts, no stockings, just muscular shapely legs. She couldn’t help but notice me watching her move around the room. She stopped at the desk of the student in front of me and bent at the waist to look at her paper. When she slid her hands between her thighs and bent a little farther, her skirt raised exposing her panties. They were red. And lacey. I thought she gave me a sidewards glance to see if I noticed. Maybe not. It really didn’t matter, though. As soon as I glimpsed those skimpy panties, I came in my pants. Right then. In class. I’m not proud, but I was only 15, I could cum at a good card trick. I had it bad.

The next morning, Valia stood in the garden behind her home, overgrown after a year of neglect, but still beautiful. She held her sword out in front of her, breathing deeply. Step by step, she underwent the Dance of the Ivunara, an elvish custom performed before battle, as well as for exercise. It was a war dance to ease the body’s mana flow and loosen the muscles. Each day was easier, and she felt like she almost back to her old self.

“You’ll thank me,” she said as she stepped out of the shower, returning with garden variety paper scissors and a disposable razor. She snipped my pubes close with the scissors, not even taking a minute. Then she got a big handful of soapy suds and coated my cock and balls. In just a couple of minutes rinsed me with a handheld sprayer, revealing a totally bald, and, I must say, a more impressive looking penis.