dipsumvalley

“Die under your own terms, maybe, but I will not let you slip into oblivion easily. There are so many wonderful, horrible things I can do to make you spill those secrets, to make you bargain for a quick death. You’ll try to maintain your dignity as long as you can. I have no doubt that you’ll put up a valiant effort; you are quite strong, after all. However, you will inevitably break and curse your own stubbornness for not talking sooner.”

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.

“Oh Brucie! Wake up, Brucie!” I called, the big German Shepherd dozily raising his head from where he had been asleep on my bed. He liked my smell, so he'd pretty much claimed it as his, now that I was no longer sleeping there myself. “Play time, Brucie!” I said, widening the door so he could see I was naked, giving my pussy a few gentle slaps. That sure woke him up in a hurry! His claws kicked my blanket up behind him as he scrambled down to the floor, eagerly shoving his muzzle between my thighs and beginning to lick.