The sound of your slaps echo in the restroom. I wince but make no moves and no sounds of my own. I can feel my skin rising and melting with each slap ...now.A tug from behind has my head pulled back by my aching roots, my back arching painfully. “What are you?” your voice is husky with primal lust.“A cumslut cock-addicted whore,” I choke out, my own voice scraping against my well-fucked throat.I’m relieved when you release my hair in favor of viciously spanking my ass several times over, lining. It doesn’t help the fact that every time she comes to school that she always wears tight shirts that make her nipples stick out like spears, and small tight denim jeans that ride up every time she bends down to pick something up. Needless to say, it was hard not to get a boner around her.The bell rung on schedule and all the kids scrambled to the door, most likely brain dead from the test they took, except two people.“Craig, Jennifer, please stay after class.” Ms. Marianne requested just before. It was probably that which had caused him to ask her to marry him. And that was nearly two years ago, she realized with dismay.Wrapping her arms more tightly around him, she just squeezed as hard as she could as she tried to fuse her body to his. Remarkably, she could feel him hugging her back. Then she realized there was wetness on her cheek that was not her own. Opening her eyes, she looked at Ken and realized he was crying, too.When he unlocked the door, the subsequent events were the only. The top was a little low cut for my taste so I insistedshe wear a t-shirt underneath. There were about fifteen other womenmilling around the gym when we arrived, gathered in groups of three orfour. They were of various ages, but we seemed to be the onlymother/daughter pair, with Patricia clearly the youngest and smallestone of the group.By the time the trainer called us all together, there were a total oftwenty five women in the gym. There was a male trainer and another manin a heavily padded.