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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.

“AAAAHHH…fuck yeah! Keep doing that! Please Jim, keep eating my ass like that!” I grabbed her hips and pulled her towards me. My tongue slid so far inside her my lips surrounded her anal opening. I remember thinking that her ass didn’t taste bad at all. I started plunging my tongue in and out of her asshole. Carol was loving it. “OHHHH…OHHH…OHHHMYGODDDD!” She came again almost instantly, her sphincter squeezing my tongue as she came. I could feel her rapid pulse on my tongue as she squeezed.

“What did Romans have under those togas?” Laughter.“If you have to ask…” More laughter“No, stupid, I mean did they have underwear or something?”“That would be a good term paper topic,” I heard Mrs. B remark.