Of course, I wasn’t going to meet with the principal. What an old-fashioned idea. In 1952, I’d attended a high school with about seven hundred stu...ents and issues went straight to the principal. My new school had almost that many in my class alone. The principal wouldn’t meet with everyone who had a problem. That’s what guidance counselors and other peons were for.Apparently, my silence while I contemplated this was not unexpected and he—Mr. Gieseke—continued right on, talking to my mother.. He grabbed her collar and tossed her to the floor, hauling her neck back by the silver leash until she was kneeling between his legs. She hurriedly opened his jog spurs and passionately kissed his heavy meat. Her head bobbed in a smooth rhythm as her lips glided up and down the fat shaft, tongue whipping on the knob during occasional pauses. Ian sensed his oncoming ejaculation and he crushed her face against his groin as he poured his spunk into her mouth. She flat tongued the underside of his. More

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