Horny School Girl

I went back to my two hour class reluctantly. At least Mr. Neson was sexy. He was tall and dark skinned. He had mocha coloured eyes, muscular arms with thick, clean fingers and toned thighs that I really wanted to kneel between and suck his big, fat cock. He wore tight pants to school that emphasized the prominent bulge between his legs. He was also the reason why I had to finger myself at school. I couldn't look at him without wanting him to fuck my throat.

horny school girl

Instead of listening to him, I impatiently bit his hard cock through his pants. I smirked when I saw the look of shock on his face. I unbuttoned his pants and with his help, pulled it all the way to his ankles. When most girls see a huge cock, they get scared. But me, I saw it as a challenge. A cock to conquer. Mr.Neson had the biggest cock I'd ever seen. My dildo was 10" long and 3" across. My ex boyfriend had an 8" penis that was not thick at all. But Mr. Neson's cock looked bigger than my dildo in girth and length.

He continued his aggressive onslaught on my vagina. He was using me as a rag doll and I loved it. I loved the feeling of being his cum bucket. I wanted him to destroy my pussy with what looked like 14" of thick man meat. I climaxed again on his cock. I was so horny I felt like I would die if his cock wasn't rocketing into my pussy. I rubbed my erect clit as I came once more. Mr.Neson was giving me pleasure I had never felt before. I wanted to fuck his cock forever. After cumming for what felt like the tenth time, my teacher's thrusts began to get sloppy. I knew he was about to cum now. When he lifted my hips, instead of ramming his cock into me again, he used it to beat my clit. He spanked my clit hard with his cock. Pre cum oozed onto my clit. He continued to beat his cock on my clit, driving me wild. At that point, I would've done ANYTHING for him to put his cock back into me. He then flipped me onto my stomach on the desk and started to grind his cock into my steaming pussy. He wasn't pounding me like he was at first, but stroking his cock into me slow and deep. I came again.

This one is a simple story of a horny 17-year-old (Charlotte Alexandra) on the cusp of horny womanhood. She toys with herself, puts spoons in odd dark places, fantasizes about the hunky young man at the mill cutting up worms and letting them wriggle on her private parts. (Honestly — the French!) For all the movie's kinky pleasures, it is filmed in the spare, uninflected style of master minimalist Robert Bresson. Call this one Diary of a Country Slut.

Some women don't choose to be criminals; they have it thrust upon them, especially in a theocratic society like Iran's. Jafar Panahi's The Circle (which won the top prizes at the Venice and Montreal fests) is a bold, sensitive view of women ex-convicts in the Islamic Republic. Over one long evening we follow half a dozen women, each of whom has been imprisoned, or may soon be, for such "crimes" as riding in a car with a man not her husband. Panahi's previous films, The White Balloon and The Mirror, were sunnier fables of little girls bereft on the streets of Tehran. Now he reveals, with unflinching sympathy, how a female of any age can be lost in a man's world. That the authorities allowed Panahi to make this film may testify to the nation's budding progressivism, but it has yet to be shown in Iran.

At the Toronto festival, anything can be shown. Canadian films too. And the two most prominent were about women: Denys Arcand's Stardom, an O.K. faux-documentary satire about the rise of a supermodel, and Ginger Snaps, a smart horror comedy written by Karen Walton and directed by John Fawcett. Ginger (Katharine Isabelle) and her sister Brigitte (Emily Perkins) are 15-year-old freaks in a pretty Ontario town. They both hate high school ("I'd rather wait it out in my room," Brigitte sulks), and the feeling is mutual. One night Ginger is bitten by a strange beast — a werewolf, of course — and grows more empowered and bristly with each rising of the moon. The film is sharpest in its first reels, when it busts clichs about school bullies and prisses, less so when the gore scenes kick in. But savor those fiercely acted scenes of sororal love and adolescent loathing; they're worth comparing to the all-time teen anxiety comedy, Heathers.

Twenty-five years ago, before the festival made Canada famous as a film showcase, the country was known mainly as a producer of high-quality short films, through its National Film Board. For its silver-anniversary edition, the festival commissioned short films from 10 noted Canadian directors and presented the works as Preludes before most of the features. Some were exemplary: David Cronenberg's meditation on the rapaciousness of human decay (The Fly, sort of, without the special effects); Rozema's pert film-within-a-film starring Canadian golden girl Polley; and Michael Snow's elegant jape on the subject of movie sensation (nudity! violence! mystification...). 041b061a72