I slap your ass hard and I watch you jump.“Ouch, damn it Woman that hurt.” you growl.“It worked too, didn't it, you spread your legs.” I laugh...d.I rub up your leg and just below the bubble of your butt, I stop, and run my nails down the inside of your thigh to your knees. I watch as you shiver. I do the same to the other leg, watching as your body shudders. Liking that, I get an idea. Two can play your game. I crawl up your body and sit on your legs holding you down.I tell you , “I don't want. There were other less welcome but equally necessary visitors to our little ecosystem, like wasps. So, when it came to laying her to rest, I asked that the grave not be turfed over, and I planted meadow plants and seeded it; annuals, bi-annuals and perennials. Each week I'd visit and sit for a while on a little folding stool and hold a conversation – imaginary, but somehow real – with my dead love. I would keep an eye on the little meadow and pull out the occasional dandelion, thistle or. ”“Well, dear, I have to confess that his performance now is due to the training that I gave him back when we were first married,” explained Mable with a hint of pride. “Actually, once I got married, my mother and I started talking pretty openly about sex, too, and she told me that she had the same problem with my father. She told me that men need to practice stopping their orgasm. It’s really hard for them, of course,” she said with a smile and a wink, “but after awhile, they can control. I obeyed instantly. There was no point in trying to fight it now, especially since I was so turned on by being dominated. He cuffed my wrists to my headboard. Then he got my nipple clamps, which I hadn't used it ages, and clamped them onto my nipples, causing me to gasp in pain. I wasn't used to them like I had been before, years ago.But like a good subbie, I didn't complain. I adjusted to the clamp's pressure and seeing my son's expression of wickedness and lust was really exciting me. He.