Stepping back, he whirled the whip over his head before bringing it down on her pussy lips. A hiss of pain escaped her lips as wetness began to gliste... on her thighs. The burning sting of the whip making her hungry for more torture. Deciding to give what she so quietly begged for, he continually brought the whip down across her pussy and clamped breasts. Her hisses soon became screams as her juices began running down her legs, leaving slick, cold trails. Seeing her strong arousal, he dropped. Well there was nothing wrong with his fertility. Or mine. I had my baby nine and a half months after we got married. Pierre isn't an officer and doesn't rate married living accomodations. I live with my parents, and visit him when he can get leave, even if it's only a weekend. The hotels we book into aren't fancy. But if there are clean sheets on the bed who cares? When I'm not nursing or sleeping I want to be on the bed with my legs wide apart with my husband between them. I know Pierre's. More

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