Sullivan’s jaw would drop all the way to the floor when he sees me. I could feel the skirt rising up, exposing the plain, modest panties I wore. XXX The skirt—pink-and-black tartan, so cute yet so naughty at the same time—was short, barely covering my ass. “No, balim,” she grinned, licking her fingers clean of my juices. Sullivan lived here with the Gods. Were you masturbating as well?”
“I was, Mr. Sullivan was the epitome of the hip teacher: his long, red hair pulled back into a ponytail, only starting to gray with age, and a close-trimmed red beard gave him a rugged, handsome cast to his face, only spoiled by the start of a middle-aged gut. I didn’t know whether it was deep-throating my eighteen-year-old mouth or the way my throat
