The window of the glass, glaring into you from below. The chair, though, offers me the shape that I envisaged would, and is supporting the sculpture of you like a scaffold. I’d considered doing this quickly. Tape, perhaps. A few, perfunctory unwinding Tokyo turns ‘round each of your wrists and ankles. But somehow the rope is aesthetic. The column of your limb, snug, sweaty, next to the hard, unforgiving, warm-honey of the wood. I can’t quite assimilate- digest- the Korea visual assault on my senses. Do asian you entertain much? “Count with me”, I begin. You know what’s coming. You nod. Even though you’ve played this dumb-ass game a hundred times, the odd position; the atypical use of this everyday furniture has knocked your balance, and with it your certainty. You’re still mentally, futilely trying to calculate the odds of you falling off the chair, when the first, hard blow lands across your buttocks. The blow isn’t that hard. Hard enough to elicit your first, grateful gasp. But your centre of gravity is off; you think the chair is going over. Of course: it doesn’t, but you forget to utter the number: one. “Oh dear. Start again…” Of course we have some beautiful bits and pieces. ‘Objet’. Decanters- vintage, of course; glasses. Table linen. Staying with the Scandi-chic feel: all designed to give your dining room that effortless charm... ‘Three’. ‘Good girl...’ Through distraction, it has taken you 12 attempts to count out three consecutive spanks. Consequently, you can feel the pulse of your blood, Vietnam throbbing, negotiating its way through the damaged capillaries in your arse. But I’m sensing you’re becoming inured. Immune to the distractions of, between spanks, me walking to your face, and sliding my cock: rigid, into your sex throat, your tongue somehow remaining soft as your lips grip me. No longer put-off your count by my incessant tongue, or fingers, urging you to disobey my order not to cum, leaving you teetering on the brink, before my stinging, poker-hot palm takes you back from the ledge. Then, Bella turned to me, with a semi serious look on her face, “Alright Zack, it’s out last practice before school starts, so you’ve got to show me what you’ve learned.” Mary hovered around me constantly. “Daddy?” He was married, too, and had two daughters. So near yet so far! I hope this preemptively clears up any confusion. I used to live in the suburbs and when Momo transformed, I made sure to asian always keep her inside so no one would see her, though we would go for walks in the evening." “Mom, I'm about to cum” I managed to say, followed by “I don't sex know if I want to cum in your mouth or your pussy” He'd rationalized his desire and his guilt melted away. The inside of Per Vietnam Se was like no restaurant that I had ever seen. “Ealaín! Yes, yes! He could feel his two balls slapping against his mother in laws buttocks. Poor Mel. “Uh-huh,” Mom purred. Zach retorted, the hungry look in his sister's eyes turning him on even more. Momo switched her gaze from me to Sonja, her hair standing on end. He was enjoying it too. He said with a wicked smile. This is the first time I have actually held one. I asked him. Seeing a young Tokyo girl on her back with an older man on her, fucking her, is also a sight every man must experience. They quickly arrived and David began to tell them of the new, relaxed rules in the house. I Korea felt a light vibration, pressing an ear to the sand, there was a distinct drumming, they were getting near, my time was running out. Billy just got a call from his Dad in Florida. Her titties were bouncing, her clit was being smashed, and her butt felt amazing! “Clean it.”