I caress her stinging cheeks so I can drag out her spanking.Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! She tries to rise now, and I have to hold her down."Sir, it st...ngs," she pleads, but I know her limits. She can take more.I give her a reprieve and move my hand back between her legs, sliding two fingers inside her wet pussy. I finger-fuck her hard now, stretching her out for the sound fucking that will follow shortly. "Sir. Sir. Sir," she gasps. Kitten is squirming on the couch. Nothing turns me on more. My cock exploded inside her, I felt and knew I was inadequate to Jamal and his BBC but hearing her say it was demeaning but turned me on at the same time. I pulled her hips tighter against me and unloaded everything I had from my cock in her pussy. My wife didn’t even flinch or moan. When I finished she simply pulled away, got up and cleaned herself up. Apparently not really receiving much enjoyment from my fucking. To recap a bit from what I related in our previous events. My wife. The tall young woman with the shoulder-length brown hair had picked up the size eleven, black canvas plimsoll from the coffee table and stood behind Andrew, tapping the rubber-soled shoe against the palm of her large left hand.“Now, you naughty, naughty, boy. Miss Thorressen is going to wallop that bottom of yours with her plimsoll and you’re going to take every smack with no fuss. Do you understand?” Claire spoke softly as she re-took her seat in the armchair.Andrew did not respond. He had. We had lamps, pots and everything you'd need to grow. So much was Randy obsessed with the "fruit of the earth" that he convinced my mother to throw me out of my room and use it for his plants. Mom, already in a vicious downward spiral, complied. Randy became my mother's Master and later her pimp. As I grew up, I saw hundreds of men coming to our door and handing 60 bucks to Randy. Some'd walk away with a small baggie and some'd be ushered into a room where my mom waited in her underwear or a.
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