Well for given values of style in a minibus which Emma had borrowed from someone in her Krav Maga class in Newcastle It was not going to Pratts Bottom... but to a pub car park on the southern outskirts of London and we would then make our way there on foot. Hopefully the dark evenings and the chill of a February would enable us to wrap up so well as to be unidentifiable to anyone observing us. Also no one would be able to identify us, particularly as we all planned to change our appearance in. One hand buried itself in my hair and gripped it tightly, and the other cracked down on my butt cheek. Fire shot through my backside and I groaned. The second swat hit my other cheek and set it equally ablaze. “Owww!” I complained, but that only spurred him on. He know how rough I sometimes loved it, knew exactly that these sounds of protests I was making were nothing. Like a machine, he rained down one painful slap after another, making my body shake and setting my pussy on fire. We had never. More

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