Banging Becky

Since the start of the term, I had watched Joan exercise and work out in the
skimpiest of gym uniforms. The blonde 19 year old was the most beautiful
cheerleader in the senior class. All the boys in school were constantly trying
to get into her pants, and to be honest with you, my own heart would literally
do a flip flop imagining what it would be like to fondle her large breasts that
were constantly peeking out through the sides of the tight T-shirts the kids
wore despite strict dress codes.

Watching her strut her stuff up and down the halls, I spent many a moment in
deep thought, picturing in my mind, the utter thrill of parting her long, lean
legs and caressing her with my tongue. I lived for the day the opportunity
might arise to show her the value of taking instruction from an older, more
mature person – one that has been around and knows the ropes. To me, Joan
seemed to know the score, and I was positive that none of the kids her own age
could possibly bring her the sexual satisfaction I instinctively knew her body
must crave. Teacher or no teacher, if I thought I could get away with it, I
would do anything short of rape to be able to lick and swallow the sacred
secretions that were certain to flow in abundance from that delectable
Homecoming Queen’s vagina.