Since I would have to stay after school for a ride home, I would help her clean the blackboards, etc. I would offer to hang stuff up on the walls for ...er, but she insisted that she would climb up the ladder and I was to kneel on the floor and hold it steady. How could she not know that a boy of my age, nearly a man, would be able to look up her skirt in that position? There was no way that I could tear my eyes away from the sight of her stocking tops, pulled taut by four thick elastic garter. The words “please don’t spurt” were repeated time and again in my head. Emma on the other hand was tossing on the bed in the throes of orgasm, her body spent with the exhaustion of holding back for so long. Her bodily fluids had thoroughly wet the bed. I looked on in amazement as Emma, slowly but surely, started to recovered. Then it dawned on me. There was only one thing left to do and it had me growling beneath my breath. I couldn’t stop the guttural sounds from escaping. I reached out to. More

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