Another A, he knew it. Teresa had plodded through busty a few essays covering the terms beauty, integrity (2), stupidity, blackness, contentment and courage before she came to Milo’s. It was titled simply, ‘Love’. She thought it was perfect, so simple, a word we all use everyday in so many ways. She was half-excited and half-afraid as she began reading. It was well-written as usual. She was impressed by the number of interpretations and examples of usage Milo had come up with. The essay flowed easily from the very first paragraph and related how casually the word is used in daily life. People say I love your sweater, or I love your hair. A child says he loves macaroni and cheese. His sister says she loves her teen idol. The high school quarterback says he loves the hot cheerleader as he undresses her and lowers her onto the back seat of his car. And of course in the game of tennis the word love means nothing; a big Zero. Then the writing segued into a more serious tone. Love in one’s family and how it can differ: Loving parents, children, siblings. The love in marriage and the love of God. It was all poignant and thought-provoking and had Teresa engrossed and on the edge of her chair. But it was the conclusion that left her again moved by this young man’s writing and trembling at the same time. Milo had summarized that love was what anybody wanted it to be, after all, it was just a word. Love is different for everyone. Then he described what love could be. As Teresa read the conclusion sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip and goose pimples rose on her japanese arms. She read: Love could be this college student sitting in the back of the classroom, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, admiring and listening to his instructor, his mentor, a beautiful, sexy woman a few years older, fondling his cock, hard between his legs beneath the desktop. And love could be the sick, sour ache he feels in his gut because he knows that even though they would make magic together he can’t be with her because he is her student and asian she belongs to somebody else. Teresa put the paper down and took a deep breath. Milo had written another strong paper worthy of an A. But was he getting dangerously close to going over the line? She knew that what she had just read was not only a very good essay nailing the assignment. It was a love letter. She had to admit she was Hairy flattered. And Milo was attractive. There was the age difference of course but she bunded couldn’t help but wonder how she would respond if she wasn’t married. And did he really get hard in her class? She’d have to watch closely the next time class was over and he got up to leave. More lively conversation.” Suddenly he felt his cock straining in her hand. He waits for me to unbuckle and waits for japanese me to scootch over for a kiss. It’s part of the reason it’s so addictive. The outdoor nature and field making a lovely backdrop to their lesbian Hairy tryst. “Really!? “Uh-huh,” I moaned. She was asian about six months into her single life. She was so smooth, so soft. The moment he shut his eyes the figure of his mother came into his vision. My naked thighs bunded trembled with expectant lust as I felt his knot continue to swell. Just then the door opened and a third girl was shown in. busty I mean... Next to her, seemingly making, was a cat girl. Quite easily in fact.