”_A few months later we were both attending college. I had enrolled in a local school, but Monica chose to enter a university in another state. I di...n’t see her again until she came home for Thanksgiving and when she got back it was almost the same as it had been before she left. At the first chance, she took me to her room to have me eat her pussy. What made it different was that she was hotter and nastier about it.The very first thing she did was push me down on my back on her bed and kneel. "A paddle," she said. I was feeling generous so I didn't take her to task for a vague answer and gave her the chance to tell me which one - we currently have three to choose from. She responded correctly with the ruler paddle, so she only had four more coming for the touchdown.I proceeded to deliver the four swats. I went fairly slowly and stepped up the force with each one. She started squirming a bit and after the last one she actually broke position and clamped her legs together. I of course. Memories of the previous twenty-four hours soon brought that train of thought to a shuddering halt.He rang the doorbell at just after twelve thirty and Emma scampered along the hallway to open the door. She beamed at him as she guided him through to the kitchen."Here's a bottle of the local wine. Have you tried it?" he asked, handing the bag to Lauren."No, I don't think so. Is it safe?" she asked, looking past his hands to his T-Shirt. He was much cleaner than when they had met. His hair had. It made John feel self-conscious. ‘It is delicious.’ he said, putting the bowl down. ‘You good cook.’ ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It is my hand-art.’ John had never heard the word. ‘What is a hand-art?’ She tried to explain it, but evidently the concept was too complex for John to understand in his limited Niyannese. She explained it, what John understood as, ‘The thing that people do for machines’, and then ‘Doing the machine work’, which left John confused. Eventually she just shrugged. ‘There is.
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