He was happy because he paid 200 for just pussy before. This time he got the dirt. He cruised up slowly as I walked down Drouillard, swinging my hips ...n a lazy high heel scr****g way. I dressed for the part, torn white t shirt with the appropriate stains, slinged up in a halter barely containing my slightly sagging tits. Blue denim skirt, well-worn so my ass cheeks peeked through the frays. Fleshy legs flexed with muscle all the way down to the perfectly shiny six inch black pumps I chose for. Saturday finally arrived after a whole week of intense anticipation for both of us. I left the front door unlocked and Michael walked in on me while I had my pants unzipped and my soft cock (I was so excited that I could not get hard, if that makes sense!) in my hand trying to wank. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, just like my dad would do. No matter the absurd explanation I gave as to why I had my cock out playing with it, he did not accept it. He told me to get the paddle and that. More

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