Him, pulling down my knickers, but that is a given; that is a fact of our life together. Unless of course he has asked me to pull them down myself and I obey his instruction, looking him in the eye as I lower them, wondering what it is to be this time, face down across his knee or face up across his bed. I wonder if I'm to be pleasured or punished, though in the end these activities meld into one, our blood quickened and our fluids running free
No matter how often this happens, there's no question of my not wearing any. Taking my knickers down, taking them off, is part of the ritual, part of the fun, and seeing me adorned in skimpy lace or silk makes him want me even more.
“This time you have to be spanked!” He tells me, his eyes moist with anticipation. ”Spanked good and hard on that naughty bare bottom of yours.” And I know I have to be, and that I deserve it. I'm a girl who’s ripe with juice and wanton thoughts, and all girls like me have to be spanked on a regular basis or who knows what we would get up to; so down come my knickers again as I squeal and struggle across his knee, loving every second.
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Now and then, as a surprise for him, I leave them off. Trip around the house or the streets, quite naked under my little skirts till he discovers my secret. “What a naughty girl you are!” He tells me, delighted that I am, his eyes on fire as he tells me that I am to be punished for being so wanton. But then again, sometimes when I am as good as gold and properly dressed, in his urgency to take me, he leaves my knickers in place, spreading me out on the bed and having me like that, his questing erection finding its hungry way up my knicker leg and deep into my sex, moist and hungry for his entrance.
It's not diamonds, but knickers that are a girl's best friend. How could we ever manage without them?
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