” St. Peter is taken slightly aback, but after a brief pause says “Well, Forrest, that wasn’t quite the answer I was thinking of, but I have to ...dmit that you are correct and so I will give you credit for that question. Now the next question is a little harder. How many seconds are there in a year?” Again, Forrest thinks and thinks. Finally he answers “12”. St. Peter - “How did you come up with that answer Forrest?” Forrest “Well, there’s January 2nd, February 2nd, March 2nd...”, and St. Peter. K.a. the Pretty Bandit, Caught with Icing Sugar While Shoplifting…”“You fucker!” she whined. He smiled. He gestured for her to return to him.She made a face.He gestured again with a stern fatherly look.She sighed and stomped over to him. “What do you want?”He touched his cock again. Then he reached over to her, right between her legs, and played with her labia.She stared at him, gasped, and squirmed a little.His finger slid between the lips and tickled.“Aw, fuck,” she muttered.She gasped again. My heart was pounding. Had we been caught? Had I done something wrong? Was I going to be told off for some unknown offence.As Mr Alban approached the door it was opened by Mrs Johns. The headmasters wife. She was quite tall, about 5’10” at a guess with long brown hair and slim body except for her boobs which seemed way too big for her chest. But she seemed nice, smiling broadly at me.“You must be Michael.” She said holding out her hand to me.I placed my hand in hers and she led me into the. I stroked in and out of her slowly, fucking her firmly, desperately trying to control the screams within begging me to flail her with my cock. It was power and precision. Control. My hands guided her back toward me as my hips moved toward her. My pace increased. My hips swiveled slightly, literally screwing in to her. More. Faster. Hands clutching her hips. Leaning over her, pinning her to the table. Her grinding back against me. Our mutual grunts. The scent of us. I felt the tension of orgasm.
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