. So you are not a bitch and you are not in heat. Yet talking about my dick while being spanked gets you very wet. Or have you peed yourself?- I didn'... pee myself!- No, I didn't think so... You are just a wet little bitch that want to see my cock.- I don't want to see your cock!- Ah! Ah! Ah! And who are you trying to convince? We just spent the last ten minutes asserting that it is exactly what you want, and probably more, a lot more in fact. Am I wrong? Do I not know how to read a dirty little. ’ The smile was in her eyes only. My mind was immediately transported back to that day, several months ago. There I was, seated in the waiting area of a lawyer’s office, tossing over in my mind what is was that I needed to say. She, a vision in pinstripe, appeared before me. ‘Good morning Mister Challiner, would you come this way.’ Her voice said it all, it was low pitched almost husky, the accent was somewhere mid-Atlantic but I suspected that it originated in England. While her voice said it. I stood up and looked down at her, wondering what she had in mind. I didn't have long to wait, her flexible gymnasts body easily lifting one leg high and hooking it over my left arm. I lowered myself slightly while she grabbed my cock and aimed it at her pussy, rubbing the head up and down her slit, teasing her clit with the tip before pushing it back so my head was engaged in her tunnel. She let go and pulled herself against me, arching her back and pushing her sopping wet pussy over my fat. "See Lucy, manners are not just some sort of archaic court protocol. They are a sign of respect that people used to show one another. And speaking of manners, I seem to have forgotten mine tonight. Everyone, this is Mary, my mother and the chef that prepared this excellent meal."Liz went on to introduce her mother to each of us, then we dug into the food. I was putting a serious whooping on the big piece of beef that Mary slapped onto my plate and Tonya stayed with me, bite for bite. That woman.