When I was younger, it was a real problem and that is how I got my nickname: Pyro Petey. My name isn't Pete or Peter, it is Robert Smith. It is one of...the most common names in America, which can be a blessing or a curse. However, let's go back to my nickname. My brother, William, christened me when I was twelve. The name stuck for a long while, but as I got better at controlling my urges, the Pyro part was dropped, but everyone kept calling me Petey. Sometimes it was awkward when I had to. It had taken a very narrow pair, they were not a true thong but onceinserted still among the buttocks divided them in half like it did aloincloth, and at the same time in the upper part gripped and pulled theskin of the lower back, causing him appear firmer and higher because ofwhat advertising called "modeling effect".In truth he would have called the most "torture" effect, since they wereunbearable to hold, which is why the wearing only a moment to admirewith that skirt.He wondered how that. I caressed her back and down over her rounded buttocks. She had goosebumps. I smiled. With the first crashing strike of my hand on her ass she cried out. I let my hand linger for a moment, feeling her reddening derrière, and touching her wet lips. Nice, but she needed more. Much more. My hand rose and began descending over and over. Slowly at first, letting her anticipate the next stroke. Then, faster. Faster and more forceful, causing her ass to glow with the scarlet palm prints. She was. "Me too, honey; I didn't mean to say that; I ... I ... it's just the thought of you..." he had to stop talking and sit down as tears were now flooding his own eyes and spilling down his cheek. Carl reached across the corner of the table, took her hand, and kissed it."What do you say we just microwave the coffee in the morning, huh?" he asked.Bev was still sniffling and wiping her eyes when she just nodded her head. He turned the coffee pot off and they went back to bed. Carl lay on his back.