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I kneaded them gently and pushed them together. I thrust my chest forward and marveled at the sight of them standing outward from my torso. I then loosened my grip and reached for my nipples. I pinched them both and slowly started to pull outward until my tits were stretched and taut. With a loud groan, I tilted my head back and winced as I twisted my tubular nipples. After holding them firmly in this position for several moments, I released them and began unbuttoning my thin, red top.I turned and faced the door now, with my shirt loose, but still on. I leaned back onto the vanity and placed my heels on the footboard of my bed. I wanted to show my son the condition of my ruined panties. I put my hands on the insides of my knees and slowly forced my legs open to his view. With my eyelids heavy and my lips parted, I silently mouthed the filthy words; "Look at your mommy's pussy. Look at your mommy's pussy." When my legs were wide apart, I sat motionless for a good while, trembling and. Yet as exciting as the possibility of surrendering control to my daughter was, I knew I couldn't do it. I needed to demonstrate authority, not submission. So I did the only thing I could do, I patiently waited for her to finish. And waited.....and waited. After 15 minutes of talking about boys, hairstyles, and what ever else young girls talk about, I was beginning to feel very foolish again. Why didn't I just demand she stop talking this instant? Why was I letting her ignore me like this? Suddenly I realized that my panties were sticking to the inside of my thighs. I was still becoming more and more turned on by Stacey's rebellion. Oh how I wish I could just reach down and re-arrange my sticky panties....and maybe even....shamefully rub around a little. But I couldn't do that in front of my own daughter. Perhaps I could quickly run out and satisfy myself in the bathroom before coming back. Yet she would.
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“Mr. Roberts?” A voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up; one of his students was standing in front of him, smiling sweetly. He couldn’t remember her name but he remembered a hot red skirt she wore on the second day of class. He fantasized about her that night, touching himself, thinking of his hands ripping the skirt from her hips. “I-I’m Chloe,” she said, still smiling. “Can I talk to you about the quiz?” She was petite, tiny even, with long red hair that draped her shoulders, a soft pink sweater was pulled taut around her large breasts… “Yes, Chloe, what can I help you with?” he asked, trying to tear his eyes away from her body. She shifted her small frame, obviously nervous. “I didn’t do so well on it, as you know, and I was wondering if there was any sort of extra credit available.” His eyes lit up. He didn’t know what she was offering, but he was definitely listening. His cock stiffened thinking of her “working out” the extra credit. “What did you have in mind?” he.

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