billspooks

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.

I don’t want to be executed or spend my life in the dungeon for what we did, but I… I have to tell someone. I have to face some kind of judgment. After everything that’s happened, I just can’t sit on this any longer, and if I am to break my promise and reveal this to someone, if I am to be punished by someone, I want it to be you.”

With that done, she stopped the recording, turned off the light and crept back to her room. No sooner was she under the covers did she pull up her phone and play the video back. Seeing herself again with her father’s load in her mouth and playing with it, her other hand dropped down to her soaking wet panties and started giving herself some attention. With the video playing on repeat it didn’t take long for her to find her own climax, and another, and perhaps a few more as she eventually nodded off.