Thirty-One Days A Bitch Chapter 3: The BDSM Lecture - Sex Stories

Thirty-One Days A Bitch Chapter 3: The BDSM Lecture

... of?” “That Daisy piece of shit! I am fed up and wearied with her. I don’t even know why I married her for thirty-one days exclusively in the first place. Yes. It is all because of her attractiveness and symmetry. The first time I eyed and sighted her, I was like, ‘I have got to fuck this bitch! I must do it!’ And I have already been through that, Tyler. Right now, I only trust and keep my fingers crossed that she will give me a son as good-looking and winning in appearance as she is herself.” “How many times have you spanked and fucked her up, if I may ask you, Preston?” “Only once!” “Once? You have got to be kidding me, man. Spank her so many times; more than twice in a day if you can get yourself to do it. That way, you will boost and strengthen her chances of becoming pregnant with you. You hear that?” “Kind of! I will see what I can do about it anyway. If you don’t mind, I think it is about time that I make a winged, rapid but surefire move towards this charming, lovely bitch here. Excuse me for a little bit while please.” While the woman looks and stares directly at Preston, he withdraws and gets out from his pocketbook a batch and roll of dollars stacked and bolted together. He waves and flutters it bit by bit and gently at her and then signals her to come over to him with a flowing, smooth gesture of his hand. She submits to his request and proceeds on to wander and step towards him, with just prefect poise and elegance as is necessary, prancing this way and that ...

... other, bobbing up and down, skipping and swaying left and right. Once she has made it to him, she creeps and inches up on the table steadily and taking her time and ease all in all. Her mega, pleasurable ass jigs and wiggles delicately but in silence behind there. At long last, she stops and pauses before Preston, checking and inspecting him closely, nibbling and gnawing his cute, appealing lips with her very own. Then she pants and puffs out seriously and deeply into his face noiselessly in best hushed tones. “What’s your drop-dead name?” Preston inquires her charily and discreetly. “Cara Leigh,” the woman answers back boldly but fastidiously. “You wouldn’t mind if I hit and smack that fine good ass of yours tonight?” At this, she smirks and twinkles merrily and gleefully. “I wouldn’t mind about it at all. You want to strike and batter it now? Go ahead and do it. The delectation and enjoyment is all yours, sir.” Grinning and beaming to himself, Preston lays hold of it and ten braces and strokes and pats and bashes and batters it if as he feels like doing. Goodness! It is so tensile and elastic cushiony soft; he doesn’t think or imagine that he is going to enjoy and relish it all until he gets painstakingly exhausted and done in to the vicinity of death. Daisy feels spent and done in. She has just stirred awake now, and yet she feels and undergoes these odd, rare, and funny sensations that make it seem like she is almost about to go out like a light into sleep right now. Is this ...