It was all too scary, the way her hands seemed to have taken control over my body. I felt that if I moved or said anything, she might stop, leaving me frustrated and unsatisfied, and yet at the same time she was my teacher, and a woman teacher at that, and it would be too humiliating to admit that she was making me cream so much from a massage.
I wanted to moan and whimper at the touch, but a look at her face told me I better remain quiet or I'd be in trouble. So I let her strong hands continue, as the massage became a more intimate fondling and rubbing of my tits and wet pussy. From where I was laying, I could see Miss Erickson's nipples had begun to tent over her top. What was she thinking?
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