Cold Hard Truth

“Just tell me the truth”, she said as I lied. My shame was written on my behind.
She spanked and she pinched, she tore at my skin, but the truth was not easy, laced in sin.
Built from experience. Designed for practice

“Just tell me the truth”, she said as I lied. My shame was written on my behind.
She spanked and she pinched, she tore at my skin, but the truth was not easy, laced in sin.

Ian clears his throat and stands, walking toward me. “Do you know why you are being punished, slut?” he asks with an edge to his voice.

What type of woman will his wife be interested in? Someone thin with perky breasts and narrow hips? A bigger woman with voluptuous curves and plenty of spaces for handholds? Does she prefer brunettes or blondes? Maybe the cute redhead in the corner.

Having him find me like this, mostly naked, skin covered in welts, my ass bright red. The brush stuffed between my opened legs, his cock in his hand, watching me, is all it takes.

I’ve always loved older women.
The years adding places for my hands to hold as I thrust deep into their cores. Their breasts are fuller, fitting inside my hands only to spill out and be caught with my mouth and tongue.

“I feel great, Sir”, I reply. “And I will be eating, just not dinner.” Lowering myself to my knees, I crawl under the table until I am kneeling between his feet. I slide my hands up his legs, stopping at the fly of his pants, looking up at him through my lashes.

Slowly, pulling the blankets away from my naked body, he puts me on display for his pleasure. Sliding one leg over mine to hold it in place, he lets his eyes roam over my body as he continues his ministrations.

An erotic Easter tale.
#MasturbationMonday

Erotic story based in the 1920's.

Candlelight Delight, a short erotic story about wax play, edge play and erotic massage
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