The creamy, frothy mixture bubbles angrily, a grotesquely contorted visage filled with turmoil and rage, staring at up her. * * * It is dark outside. ...he boy is sleeping. Michael is sprawled in his favourite green armchair in the lounge, the lamp beside him turned down low. His long fingers, slender, elegant, lightly hold a book, occasionally turning the pages with effortless grace. Artist’s fingers, she thinks. He is an artist. But he doesn’t paint anymore. The dim light bathes the pages of. Steps near me, the sound of rain. Just as I was about to open my eyes a shower of droplets hit me.“Oh, you bastard”, I laughed and jumped to my feet. And then I froze. I had been dreaming. This wasn't one of my friends. This was my owner. I had just called my owner a bastard. He had changed, his black fur was dripping wet and clung to his body. His muzzle opened a bit, it looked just like a malicious grin.He snorted, shook himself again with vigour. “Sorry, Sir”, I murmured, looked down on my. Say them again, in order of severity, starting with the most important.” Amanda wielded the hairbrush faster and harder. “Owwww! Going into your things without permission. Ow. Ripping your panties. Ow. Scattering your (Ow.) things on the floor. OW! Cumming on them and the rug! Oh, please, Amanda, it hurts so much! Please.” A big grin split Amanda’s face and she felt dampness between her legs. She loved hearing her boyfriend beg. So she continued to strike his bare bottom, now quite inflamed.. She sat in the side of the bed and pulled him close to her and took his rod in her hand and ran her fingers up and down the length of his rod. As she did so it grew and thickened. She bent her head and took the tip of it between her lips and circled her tongue around and around it. She then began to lick and suck that rigid pole right into her mouth and down her throat. He was uncut and she loved the way that the foreskin rolled up and down the length of his prick with the movements of her.