1. Beef with Broccoli


    Date: 2/12/2016, Categories: Fiction, Blowjob, Erotica, Written by women, Author: CandyXLove, Rating: 92.9, Source: sexstories.com

    school like a house fire. It's so bad that my remaining kids only registered token disappointment in not having a party because most of them have fevers, too. Most of my students' parents can't afford to take a day off work to stay home with a sick kid. They aren't about to let a first grader be home alone, though. Sometimes sending your kid to school, even if it's just to sit in my class for a half hour before getting sent to lie down in the dark in the nurse's office until someone's shift is over or a teenage sibling is done with school is the best option. I get this. I really feel for these parents, and I don't know what I'd choose if I had kids with nowhere else to go but to school. You know what, though? Even though I feel for them, it doesn't make it any easier to get through a week of getting coughed on by a bunch of sweaty little zombies who are too exhausted to follow along in their phonics lesson. It doesn't make it any easier when little Madisyn throws up on my pants leg. Jesus, how can the creepers still be hitting on me today? My hair looks like greasy straw and I have bags under my eyes like purple bruises. I can't wait to get home to take a shower until the hot water runs out, order some Chinese food, and watch a movie. The worst offender is two blocks from my building. I don't look at him, I look straight ahead, but that seems to make him angry. He trots down to the bottom step and grabs his crotch with one hand while he uses the other to pantomime feeding a ...
    cock the size of a beer bottle into his open mouth. I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing, because with my personal soundtrack going, it also looks like he's really going for the high notes in "Mama, life had just begun." I cover my smile with a fake cough. He licks his lips and leers at me. I hope he falls off the steps one of these days, right on his fucking face. It would probably improve that snaggle-toothed grill of his. Finally, I'm at the door of my building. Finally, I can close out the dirty afternoon sunlight and disappointing humidity that refused to turn into a nice day. I don't even bother trying the elevator, it's been out for a week. Instead, I walk up the narrow, creaking stairs as quietly as possible. Manny, on the first floor, works nights. He's a nice guy, so I don't want to wake him up. On the second floor landing, it smells like Mrs. Kratky is cooking another of her sausage and cabbage abominations. I have to be quiet there, too, because she complains to the landlord any time she hears a sound louder than a cat's yawn. I pass the third floor, the fourth, keep going all the way up to the ninth floor, where my studio apartment is waiting, quiet and tiny and only for me. The thick heat pumping out from the radiator always reminded me of a jungle, so that's the way I decorate. The day I moved in, I painted the bathroom door bright green and tacked on post cards of all the places I'd traveled or wanted to go. My bed is shielded from the rest of the ...
«1234...1718»