"But I gotta," Nancy replied, rising from the toilet seat and glancing at Mr. Towson's dripping prick, the fat stalk sudsy, still half hard."You're go...na give the whole bleachers a hard-on."Nancy smiled. She pulled up her blue bloomers, then straightened her skirt.Mr. Towson sat down on the toilet. He was still playing with his prick.Nancy turned and watched for a moment, a sweet tickle went through her. She wanted to stay, to watch him jerk off to her again, but she unlatched the door."I'm. But it was still difficult for him to believe that Gwen was old enough to have a daughter his own age. She must have been a real child bride, he decided.Right now she was casually dressed in a short-sleeved knit top that clung to the lines of her very fine tits and left her bare from just below the boobs to the waistband of her very short shorts. And they were the kind of shorts nobody's mother was supposed to be wearing, what with the way they rode low on her hipbones and cut high on her sleek. More

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