leyla johnson

“Your tongue, mister. Lick my pussy.” Keeping the teacher satisfied was always one of my goals, so I laid flat between her legs, put her legs over my shoulders and began licking and sucking and pulling on her pussy. I sucked her soft clit into my mouth where my tongue could reach every spot. “Oh God…” Carol moaned quietly. “Yeah…fuck yeah. Her pussy juices were coating my face and wetting the comforter. She took my hands and placed them on her tits. Her nipples were rock hard. “Play with my boobs. Be rough. Pinch, pull, tw…OW!” I must have pulled too hard. “Ow…that hurt…it’s okay, don’t stop. Just a little easier.”

As carefully as she could and listening to her dads breathing above, she moved her hand through the patch of pubic hair, the thick hair rustling under her touch. She moved her hand back and forth enjoying the sound and feeling of it under her hand. Once she had given it a thorough tousling, she brought her hand back to her face and inhaled. It was like a lightning bolt shot through her from her head to her feet. The smell was much stronger than she was expecting, the same smoky familiarity to it, but like his underarm hair it had its own particular scent to it, and it was better than all the rest. Sarah trembled as she smelled it, her legs locking together around her dad’s, and though she panicked thinking it might wake him, she couldn’t help it.

The school year was coming to an end and I was busying myself with spring sports. I was doing track and field, distance events like the 1,500-meter run. I also tried my hand at pole vaulting, which did not go well. I had to quit vaulting before I really hurt myself. One particularly grueling Friday at practice, I noticed Mrs. B. in the bleachers watching. Faculty often wandered out to watch teams practice or play, but Mrs. B was rarely among them. She lingered when the practice was over, so I went over to say hi. She seemed genuinely happy to see me, even though she had been quite aloof in class or in the hallway.