She looked over at Melanie, and finally, their glances connected. Melanie gave her a quizzical look, as if to say, "where do you know her from?"Ilsa mouthed the words, "the park," but Melanie only frowned in confusion.After the roll call, Marsha Crow picked up their current area of study where Ursula Traynor had left off. Words and phrases about political violence in South America drifted past Ilsa's ears, but her mind was replaying fragments of that day in the park, over and over, as if in some music video. She was also contemplating what was going to happen next. The woman knew. She knew.When class broke, Ilsa gathered her things and made a beeline for the door."Miss Petersson," Marsha Crow's voice called as she passed the teacher's desk.Ilsa dodged a couple of exiting classmates and stepped to the desk. The woman wasn't looking at her, but instead held out an envelope. "For you," was all she said.Ilsa took the envelope and, out of habit, said "Thank you, Ma'am."Shaking, Ilsa. He kissed it, gently, tenderly, passionately, sucked on her naughty lips, then snaked his tongue into her wet hole. Her musky womanly flavors, which the mere thought of would have repulsed him only a short time ago, now tasted like sweet honey to him. Chris devoured her, licking, tasting, exploring, every inch of her womanhood with his mouth, from her mysterious interior, to her alluring exterior. He listened to her moan as he kissed her, groan as he licked her, sliding his tongue into her naughty cunt, and tremble as he sucked on her lips, her skin, and her clit."Chris stop!" Jessica called out as the first wave of an explosive orgasm brought her senses back to her, the scorching pleasure hitting her making her realize what they were doing. "No Chris, stop!" she called out again as he continued, snaking his tongue into her muff as he used his finger to press her itching trigger, her body trembling with more excruciating pleasure."What's wrong?" Chris asked, whipping his head up and.
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