Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449
I have a problem. I’m hot for my son’s teacher. I’ve broken more than one vibe thinking about him. When I first met him at the Open House in the beginning of the school year I knew I was in trouble. The way he commanded attention at the front of the room. The way he walked around the classroom handing out the syllabus. All I could think of was seeing if I could get him alone. Listening to his voice as he explained his expectations of his students; all I could do was imagine what he’d sound like while he worked me over.
Hot For Teacher
I have a problem. I’m hot for my son’s teacher. I’ve broken more than one vibe thinking about him. When I first met him at the Open House in the beginning of the school year I knew I was in trouble. The way he commanded attention at the front of the room. The way he walked around the classroom handing out the syllabus. All I could think of was seeing if I could get him alone. Listening to his voice as he explained his expectations of his students; all I could do was imagine what he’d sound like while he worked me over.
The first time he had to call me at work because my son was misbehaving, I was both ecstatic and disappointed. Of course he was calling to discuss ways to keep my son engaged in class. But keeping my mind on topic was difficult. I found myself wondering what it would be like to have him be my teacher while I was serving out detention. Would I be able to negotiate with him? How wonderful it would be to have him standing over me while I sit at the desk and suck him off. I barely made it through the conversation.
At my son’s parent teacher meeting, I wasn’t able to keep my eyes off of him. Mr. Biology Teacher was mesmerizing. Sitting close enough to feel his body heat and to smell his cologne. No one has the right to smell that good. Like old leather and pine, with an indefinable musky undercurrent. I was instantly soaking my panties. When his hand brushed mine while handing over paperwork, it felt like an electric current jolted through me. When I looked in his eyes, I knew he was feeling it too.
I knew I had to do something. Say something. “Will you be attending the next home game?” I asked, noting the pleasantly surprised look on his face. He nodded. “Well, I hope to see you there. My son will be playing.” I smiled. Maybe I’d finally get lucky.
The following Friday night, I drove my son to school for the football game and kept an eye out for Mr. Biology Teacher. I was only half paying attention to the game. I’d showed up prepared for some fun. Button up top, medium length skirt, everything worn for easy access. Now I just needed him to access the goods. When he sat down next to me on the bleachers, I was beyond excited. While the crowd was cheering over a particularly good play, he leaned in and said, “Meet me under the bleachers after half time.” I cheered for a different reason.
Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449