He curses and flails and glowers up at you, and the look of murder in his eyes makes heat run down your spine. With a wide grin you tug away the damp ...owel wrapped loosely around his hips, revealing his erect cock to the air. His slit is still dripping pre-cum, and when you take him in your hands he's hot and slick against your skin. You stroke him and watch as he struggles not to react, and oh, that won't do. You grip him harder until he hisses, and pump his cock so fast your hand blurs. It. At first glance, Mr. Kent didn't look to be here. Which I thought would be a relief but absolutely wasn't much to my annoyance. This was crazy. How the fuck was I supposed to do anything? How the hell do I concentrate on the crap I needed to do today? I popped a grape in my mouth and mused on my situation.Every opening of the main double doors to the canteen had me looking up like Bambi in a zoo full of hyenas. And with every "not that guy", I slumped back in my chair with Babette thoroughly. More

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