noa vahle

A few hours later, Sarah once again slipped into her father’s room. She only felt slightly guilty doing so, after all he said that was basically the same as giving consent, right? As the night before he was softly snoring under the machine attached to his face and was laid out flat on his back. She crept around to the side of the bed and stared at him. It was just a light white sheet spread out over her dad’s naked body. In the moonlight she could out the outline of his body easily. Though right now all she could focus on was his dick. She could see the lump right there, a small round bump right below his belly. She bit her lip apprehensively.

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.

“Oh you are so adorable! Yes it is illegal in this hick state, but so are blow jobs and probably fucking with the girl on top. Just another reason never to tell anyone.” Her face darkened for a second. “You haven’t told anyone, have you? Anyone?”“Not a word. Promise. Wouldn’t know how to describe it anyway.”