Swat after swat rained rhythmically down on my poor bum, stinging like hell and making it burn. “Please,” I whimpered while she kept on spanking, ten, twenty, thirty swats and she didn’t seemed inclined to stop. Then it happened. I felt the line of juice tear from my pussy and drip onto my calf. Tears shot from my eyes and I started to bawl, but Caroline kept thrashing without mercy. Her hand went slightly lower to target that soft, sensitive strip of skin where thigh met bum, and the swats became molten fire. My voice broke. More of my treacherous pussy’s honey dripped down onto my legs. “Fuck,” she exclaimed, panting hard, and finally stopped after what had felt like hours, “that was good.” My backside felt like it was on fire and swollen to at least twice its size. I sniffled on her lap then yelped in pure embarrassment when her hand ran through my folds and found me dripping. “Horny little thing,” she called me, smearing my sticky secretion over my bum, then pushed me off her lap. As a guy, one of my greatest weaknesses when it came to women'sclothing was stockings. Even the most ordinary looking girl jumpedseveral notches of hotness in my book if she was wearing hosiery.Something about nylon-clad legs always managed to trip my triggers andcatch my attention.Too bad for the guys in this universe, they wouldn't be seeing MissCharlene Miller's hosed legs anytime in the foreseeable future.The bottommost drawer held an assorted array of athletic apparel.Sweatpants, yoga pants, tights, shorts, sports bras, and tank tops. Allof it serving to remind me that my normal exercise routine, whichgenerally consisted of heavy duty stretching followed by a run, wasgoing to have to be taken up a notch. Katie had mentioned an hour ofexercise each morning. For starters.If that was the case, I was sure me and the contents of the thirddrawer were going to be well acquainted.I returned to the underwear storage and pulled out a matching set thatdidn't seem to be too bad. The panties,.
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