Wednesday morning dawned wet and windy. We breakfasted early, I paid the bill and we were on the road home by ten. I drove. Trish had driven to Wales and indeed had driven the car everywhere while we were there; she loved the automatic car but she had a three hour drive back to Newcastle later in the day and I insisted she rest. So we were able to have some lunch at home before she set off."Don't forget, Allan," she smiled, as she settled into her car, "if a pretty young thing hits on you, go for it! It's an order!" Same for you. Don't feel guilty if you have another fling with Tim."Her face clouded briefly before the smile resumed its place."No more flings for me. You'll do until I go, but I'll be hunting once I get down under! If you do find a woman you won't ditch me completely before I go, will you?"I assured her that she would have first place in my affections and my bed until she went and she looked relieved. I bent and kissed her and she kissed me back hard, pulling my head. He can see turn her head, trying to follow him with her ears. He stops in front of her ass, still pink from where he spanked her and waits. Her movements become faster, more desperate as she tries to determine where he is and what he is doing. He raises the slapper slowly and deliberately, ensuring that he makes no sound, before bringing it down just below her tailbone. The whip-crack sound it makes is only slightly louder than her ecstatic cry of pain.He loses himself to the beating of her. His arm raises and falls like a metronome as he thoroughly and methodically paddles every square inch of her ass. Each time the sound of it striking her flesh echoes through the bedroom and each time she cries out in comingled agony and ecstasy. He lets that part of him out—'all the stuff in the closet, ' as he heard in a movie once—and channels all of his anger and frustration into the stiff leather and the smooth, round, red flesh its attached to.He stops when his arm gets tired. She's still.
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