Better than getting it off to Julia Ann every night, better than thumbing through my dad's old hustler magazines, better than any of my fantasies. Thi... was perfect I thought as my eyes started to close and her fingers started to drill in and out of me even harder and faster. I felt myself moving my hips and grinding on her fingers, making them go deeper. My pussy was flooding her desk and I certainly did not give a fuck if I got some stupid bitch's test paper wet. I was beyond caring about. Her breasts were nice, little, round, mounds, tipped with bright pink nipples and areola. That they were mouth-watering was an understatement, and more than likely, a near insult. She was easily a 34B, and could be a C. When she stood to speak, she turned slightly, and the lower part of her cheeks was plainly in view. She was wearing her hair in a ponytail, and it was longer than Sharon had thought. It fell to between her shoulder blades. The denim shorts were displaying a camel toe, as well,. More

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