The hand that rocks my round, plump buttocks. He took me over his knees and let the rhythm build. A slow, crisp hand was all he needed. The sound of his hand hitting my bare skin was in harmony with the Chemical Brothers music that pumped softly in the background.
He could feel me writhe and squirm under his disciplined hand. We teased and played and fondled and kissed. Our hands were the explorers and my tongue was the compass.
Deliciously pink without leaving a mark….thats what makes the Philly spanker, Man of the Week.