She is most willingly objectifiable.Experienced and most clearly an expert, her top, you think you remember as black, is peeled from her olive-skinned...torso. She places it by her side. Obviously knowing that a t-shirt to the crowd is a tee that’s never found. No-one likes to walk home topless. Not even exhibitionists.Gyrating slowly, she appears to sparkle in the lights, body glitter or something, a delicate navel piercing, it’s different and somehow mesmerizing...Trousers inched lower, those. I mean, I never knew!" He squeezed his arms around me, then started to slide his hand down over my stomach again."No," I said firmly, but took his hand in both of mine and raised it to my lips. "I've had enough. It's your turn now."I'd opened his pants up earlier and played with him, but that had been long minutes before. Now, when I slid my hand back into his undershorts, his penis was limp and surprisingly small. It had always been up and cocky by the time I touched it. But as I squeezed and. I feel his hands on my ass.“Sir, no touching. Behave or I will have to tie you down.”“Yes, Mistress,” he says playfully again.Beyonce’s, Haunted, is playing. I work all round his cock. I rub some oil onto his shaft and balls. I spread the oil around his scrotum. His hands are touching me again.“I warned you,” acting as if I am mad.I get off of him and get the restraints that are already attached to the bed. I attach them to his feet, spreading them. Then I move up and take his arms above his. Being only a bit on the high side of five-five, and not all that good looking, had always been a cause of embarrassment for me. Ever since high school, any time I got the nerve up to ask a girl out, it seemed like I got shot down. There had been Mary Lou, of course. Pretty, nice hooters, a butt worth worshipping: she was the exception. But, in the end, she dumped me too—for a jock! Now, my wife, if not actually dumping me, was dumping on me. I'd had enough.Verna was just the latest to put me.