Again she straightened up, her big belly spilling over the top of her pink knickers, damp at the gusset, hair spilling from the leg apertures, waiting...for the command.“Turn” she turned, her skin hot to touch, “knickers off” the words given in a parade ground whisper, she bent to step from the wet pants, on her rump a scar, the brand, in the shape of a W, W for William.She stood silently, the two huge orbs of her white rumps at my face level, her wide back, dark hair over her shoulders, pudgy. Your skin glows in the flickering candlelight as I kneel astride your hips where you lie prone upon the sheets. Lightly, I brush the silken strands of your golden hair from your face and you smile contentedly.Such trust, from one who seems so small and fragile beneath my brutish bulk, is impossible to fathom, but my heart swells within my chest at the knowledge of its existence.Leaning forward, I trail the tip of my tongue lightly around the delicate curve of your upturned ear. A gentle nip at. More

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