But sometimes the brush isn't enough. If it's to be a "proper" punishment, he'll stand me up while I'm crying and pull my PJ top up over my head. Then...he'll stand up and march me over to the corner by my upper arm. Once there, he'll stand me close and move both of my hands to the back of my head. I'm usually still crying hard from the hairbrush while he does this, so the first thoughts after the crying slows down are the realization that next comes the strap. And that realization makes it just. “She just invited me to her place for a drink after work.”Carla was still behind me, kissing my shoulders and my back. Her right hand was still fondling my breast and her left hand was sliding slowly down across my tummy, her fingers moving in little circles around my smooth mons venus.“Hey.” He said. You sound hyped up. Just like you sound when you’re horny. You sure you’re not at it. You’ve never made any secret about wanting to fuck her. Fuck. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.” I. More

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