jazzercise wally

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.

“You're welcome, sissy,” she laughed. “And my, what an adorable, tiny little sissy-clitty you have, now that you're going all soft after you've cum!” My blush intensified dramatically, hearing that. I'd always been a grower, not a shower; I knew six inches was slightly above average, when I was hard, but now that I'd cum I was rapidly shrinking to barely three.

After a few spurts his cock stopped orgasming and started to soften again in her mouth. Suckling on his cock until it had returned to its original size, Sarah moved down to his balls and began to give them the same treatment. Almost roughly she reached underneath his thighs and brought them forward, sucking in both at once into her mouth. She sucked and slurped, rolling his balls around her mouth with her tongue. Sarah was desperate, coercing his cum factories to produce another round of fun for her.