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“Ohhh…yeah that’s it…” Carol moaned softly. I spread her ass with my hands now, and she rubbed her clit while I ran the flat of my tongue across her clenching anus. I wiggled the tip of my tongue against her anal opening, trying to work my way inside but her sphincter was tight and hard. “Heehee! That tickles!” Carol giggled as I flicked my tongue quickly across her asshole. I stopped the motion. “Don’t stop. Finger my pussy.”

Noah flashed his knight emblem. “Jon Doe, knight of Uther and husband of a lying whore. That son of a bitch, Noah, bedded my wife and left her pregnant, so if you think you’re going to rob me of the pleasure of stringing that rat bastard up by the balls, know that you’ll end up dangling right next to him.”

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.