He sat down, and then pulled her onto his lap, and she let out a muted squeal. ‘I’m not wearing any panties,’ she told him, ‘And I feel soooo wicked. I shaved for you this afternoon.’ The were semi-secluded, and Alan pulled her skirt out from under her ass, and draped it over them. He reached under the skirt to feel the smoothness of her pussy, and she purred. Wrapping his left arm around her torso he lifted her up a few inches so he could reach for his fly. Freeing his dick, he then lifted her higher, placing the head against her labia, barely penetrating her pussy. ‘Alan, what are you doing? There are people around. Someone could catch us, ugh ugh, at any minute. We, ahhhhh, shouldn’t, ohhhhhhh, be, Ohmihod, doing, ooooh, this.’ Alan had been slowly lowering her onto his impaling hardness, and by the time he was completely buried in her, her protests had ceased. She lifted her bra cups over her tits and brought up Alan’s hands in hers so he could play with her nipple rings through. Her pride, her joy, Danica was to her mother the greatest cause for going back to school at age 22, finishing at age 25 with a teaching degree, and finally years later setting aside the lucrative but degrading life as a sex worker in Los Angeles.Chrissy was pretty sure that Ken was Danica's father. He always said so, and the timing was right. Danica attended the academy as a relatively rare female student. There were about three girls for every 10 boys at Fieldings, but she seemed to be well-respected as an athlete -- she was a swimmer -- and student. Having a mother on the faculty, even as its most junior member, probably helped too, Chrissy thought with a smile.At least Danica can feel secure, her mother thought. One year of probation, one more year as junior faculty, a review board examination and letters of recommendation from three faculty members separated Chrissy from that security. The tension of the school was constant, pervasive, and at times Chrissy wondered whether high.
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