So, it’s I, Aspen, Naughty Teacher by day, phone sex op whenever I can find a spare moment. & I just want you to know I haven’t (okay, ain’t) been misbehavin[(')g].
For example, I never ever have trolled the nearby college campus for a naughty student—a stud in nerd’s clothing, if you will. You know, the sort of fellow who is so smart there’s light practically oozing out of every pore. Except his peer group has yet to see through the nerdiness & so he gets rejected—over & over—by girls his own age. That’s where I come in.
Anyway, the fellow I met this past Saturday absolutely had not just turned seventeen on February 25th. @ least he never told me so in so many words. But, to be fair, we haven’t talked a whole lot.
So, to summarize, the hott, just barely not sixteen-year-old I didn’t meet last Saturday, didn’t follow me into the woods near the stream that runs through the canyon. & I didn’t remove my tight knit sweater. Thus revealing the balconette bra, hinting @ the excitement beneath it.
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Because I am a teacher, & my students are roughly the same age as this bright, hott, yet shy young man I decidedly did not deflower last week, I was very gentle.
I made my young, but certainly not too young, lover kneel before me as I lifted the t-shirt off his back. Then I hiked my skirt, so he might warm himself beneath it. He was in fact made much warmer between my legs than he’d have been w/ just that flimsy t-shirt. Trust me.
Besides, I was fairly certain he was dehydrated. & this naughty student (or was he a figment?) seemed rather thirsty. He did after all attempt then & there to suck the vital juices from my pussy.
While I pressed my hand to the fabric behind his head & rubbed my thumb ever so lightly over the lace covering my left breast.
But, perhaps, it was only a dream?
Want to share one w/ me?
Then call me, Aspen, your favorite naughty teacher:
888 468 2030.



















