Suddenly her lustful squeals turned to cries of pain.She lowered her self to her elbows and clutched her ownhair with her hands, pulling on her roots ...o overridethe pain in her pussy. I stepped forward, wanting to dosomething.“Are you okay, uh Miss?” I asked, knowing it was a dumbthing to say.“yeeeeessss!” she screamed. It sounded like aprofession of pleasure more than an answer to myquestion.If she was just voicing her passion, she seemed toreconsider when another cry. There seems to be more boys following me up the stairs and I’ve discovered that they get a better view if I stop and bend over pretending that my stupid shoe lace has come undone.Some of the male teachers seem to enjoy staring at my pussy a lot more since my skirt doesn’t cover as much. I think that they appreciate my pubic hair plucking as well.When the weather got warm the male English teacher decided that it would be a good idea to take our poetry classes outside in the nice warm, fresh air.. More

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