tyyy mean

Sarah flopped down on the couch and started scrolling on her phone. She knew she should be doing her homework, or some after workout stretches but she was in a bad mood tonight and wasn’t about to do anything productive. All the girls in her volleyball team had spent practice gossiping about their boyfriends or the boys that they were into while Sarah just had to smile and listen. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t interested in those types of things, but she could do without the snide remarks they made about her being the only one without a boyfriend or even having a crush yet. She’d watched porn and masturbated, but with the way the other girls talked about guys and sex, she couldn’t understand the hype. Whatever itch it scratched for them just didn’t exist the same way for her.

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.

Fireworks were shooting off in her head now and her womanly instincts were in auto pilot now, and it didn’t seem to matter that her father was the target. Her right hand came up to his cock and pulled it towards her, making it easier on her neck to reach. Her left hand came up from the bed and rested on his waist, a much firmer purchase to steady herself. She spread her legs wider on the bed, her panties dripping with her own secretions smeared on her father’s knee.