Mr. Emerson opened a book on his desk and motioned me over beside him. I was breathing strangely and stood beside him looking down at the book. “T...is is the writing of Walt Whitman,” he said, “and much of his poetry is about love and feelings…read this part.” I leaned over to look at the words and his arm went around my waist. It was warm and I wiggled very slightly and began to read the poem about men and women and “feeling myself…alive” and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my back. “What do you. When she let my cock breath, she was sucking on my balls. She made mention of how big my balls are, and she loved sucking them. She even mentioned the man smell around them turned her on more. She was like a cock ball slut right now. Oh more she sucked my cock, the more I was feeling ready to blow her face. I felt the surge of cum as she worked me over, under and all round my dick. When I was ready to go, I grabbed her head and forced my cock down her throat. I fucked her face a few minutes. More

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