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Edging a bit at a time, she moved as slowly as she dared, her pussy spasming and forcing her to stop an inch at a time. Sweat dripped off her face onto her father’s chest while her juices dripped down and soaked his bush. Finally, she had only his fat cockhead inside her while she squatted above him ready to make her dismount. But she was also at her limit, and she was unsure how much more teasing her poor pussy could take. Not wanting to risk it another moment, Sarah pushed against the bed with her heels and came up into a standing position over her dad. His cock popped out with a wet slurp as it flipped back to his stomach, and it tipped Sarah over the edge.

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.

“OOOmmmmppphhh! Fuck yeah…” Carol grunted loudly as I pulled her ass all the way onto my cock. Carol’s pussy was tight, but her bum was tighter still. The oil made it slicker than pussy. I wondered for a millisecond if Missy Yeager took cock in her ass. Carol was now sliding her asshole back and forth the length of my shaft. “MMMmmmMMmmm…fuck me…fuck my slut ass. Tell me Jim. Tell me what a whore I am. Tell me how nasty I am for making you fuck my ass.”