Stop dicking me around. As if I don’t jerk off every morning at the office thinking of you wearing those knee-high socks and skirt to school every d...y!”“Oh that’s gross! You’re k**ding right?! What’s wrong with you?! Are you on meds??”“Wrong with me? What’s wrong is that I haven’t already stuffed your mouth with my cock, slut. I whack thinking of you most nights and have shot my load into your dirty panties. Ever heard of comfort women slut?”“Daddy, you’re scaring me…”“Comfort women were. By the looks of his face he didn't know what to do. How often do you get a girl asking about bikes? He finally answered and started talking about a load of shit I didn't know nor care about. But I did get a question I was antisipating the most. 'Do you wanna go for a ride and try it out?'. I was now almost dripping with excitment my cunt was aching to be penetrated. 'Yeah, I'd like that'. He gave me a dirty grin and offered me a leather gloved hand to get help me get behind him. Once behind him. On the one hand, he tried his best to appear in control at all times ( stiff upper lip and all that ) but he was also excruciatingly obsequious and submissive to others, especially if he felt subordinate to them in class, rank or authority.So, on his first day as P.E. instructor for the girls' field hockey team, Harry was torn between these two tendencies. He was in charge, no doubt about that. But each and every girl on the team were the daughters of some the richest families in the land and. "I kinda like it, though, reminds me of well kept horses." Horses?" Yes, magnificent beasts. We ride them for sport. They're kept in stalls, little cubicles, with straw, dried plant stalks on the floor."She took her hand away from her nose, took a shallow breath. Then another. It was ... not so bad. She relaxed, a bit.Then squeaked again, as Sheridan pushed her against the bags, started to kiss. The bags rustled and moved, settling beneath her. Like the smell, it was not an entirely unpleasant.