These late night/early morning chat-sessions went on for months; and after each and every time, after we'd signed off, I'd quietly (so as not to wake ...ara) head to the bath room. Once there, I'd stroke my (considerably smaller!), pale white cock, and as I did, I'd think about those other men who'd be working eagerly to get Mara pregnant once again; and such thoughts provoked within me, as they always did, such a strong and powerful erotic reaction; and as I silently stroked my cock, enjoying. The music is lost to it, a sweet slapping sound as the paddle strikes andlingers a moment before being lifted silently away. He's breathing harder, notquite out of breath, just a teasing exhalation of effort as he continues tospank me. It falls into the rhythm of his strokes and my own breathing matchesit. Puffing the air from my lungs as the paddle's swift touch lifts meslightly. He stops finally, the strokes have been countless, perhaps 50? Maybemore. I feel as if a fire were lit behind me,. More

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