I also noticed that she was wearing a rather fetching black lace bra, which seemed to accentuate the swell of her breasts. "Sorry Mr Benson are you li...tening or are you just in a day dream?" rocked me out of my thoughts.I apologized saying that I was thinking about something else. "Clearly not the job in hand" was her short reply.Now struggling with a hard on, embarrassment and looking to change the subject I stupidly said that I'm sure the Headmaster would have a good way of dealing with. Ms. Levy was another thing. She’d suggested I keep this journal. It was different than the literary response journal that we had to keep with us at all times! She periodically gave us assignments of what we were to write in that composition book. She had some very specific requirements for it. It was to be wide-ruled, 100 sheets 7.5x9.75 inches. We were to write in ink. There were specific instructions for editing our work, including crossing out things we didn’t like and writing in inserts.. We made out, her tongue massaged mine. Then she pushed me down until my face was between her legs. “Put that talented tongue to good use.” She said firmly I obliged, I licked up the entire length of her. From her tight little ass hole up to her clit. She quivered and moaned as I went, I reached her clit and began running my tongue over it in little circles. She gasped in pleasure as her salty, acidic taste flooded my mouth. God I loved to eat her pussy, the noises she made, the way her tits. * “What do you miss most?”We’re sitting on the edge of the roof, legs dangling out into space. She’s pushed up right against me and I can feel her warmth radiating into me. I think for a moment, savoring her presence and the soft leather jacket under my naked ass.“Can’t be sandpapering that cute little butt, can we?” she’d said. I shrug. “Doubt I have an answer that isn’t cliché as fuck.”She bumps her shoulder into mine. “I don’t doubt it. But this isn’t a literature class with a persnickety.
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"He said that and slipped his right hand inside my panties. Making way through my thick wet bushes he brought his fingers up to my bushy fork. I gaspe
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