My body exploded in another massive contraction as I ejaculated what little semen I had left into her mouth. She continued with a couple of strokes up...and down my penis with her mouth and then, still keeping her fingertip inside of me, settled next to me on the bed."Like that don't you?" she asked."Oh boy. Do I," I told her through my panting from the exercise regimen she had just put me though. "That was fantastic!" Glad you liked it. It was great from here too."Then she wiggled the tip of her. I was stunned to see mom openly eyeing the bulge in my jockeys. She licked her lips and smiled at me.“Do you want me to suck it now, Tommy?”I noticed she kept calling me Tommy. She had not called me Tommy since I was in my early teens. Not since, in a moment of pubescent ire, I refused to answer to what I thought was a childish name. I wanted to be Tom, the grown up. My parents indulged me. From that time on, I was Tom. Calling me Tommy suggested, in some ways, she had regressed.“No, mom! You. He tapped the end tentatively against the twin mounds of Abby’s ass, which had reddened slightly from the flogger. Damian might have understood Abby, but this didn’t feel right to George. He wasn’t as appalled by the cane in his hand this time, but the entire scene made him uneasy. When he’d taken lessons with Britt, there’d been an aspect of play to it. Now there was no play, only discipline. ‘If I were to guess, George possesses sensitivity and has your trust.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘But lacks strength. I made a booking at a well-known restaurant in central London, I put on my best suit and made my way there, I got there 8pm and got seated, my date had texted me and said she was running late so I sat there looking over the menu, 10 mins had past and I thought I was stood up, was just about to leave when in she walks a 5’6 slightly chubby, wearing tight jeans and a khaki long shirt, with peep toe heels that showed of her immaculate pedicured white toes, topped off with a black and white hijab..