There was a faint sheen of sweat on her back. Maybe it was the warm, close air of the evening: maybe it was the anticipation.
It was relaxing, lying there, feeling her warmth, running my fingers through her hair. She moaned slightly, lazily, as I tightened my grip and pulled her closer.
"You've got work to do, Wench, get down to it." She wriggled ineffectually as I pushed her down the bed, but her hair, her beautiful hair, held her prisoner. I could feel her breath drifting over me and a glorious warmth enfolding me. Luxury...sheer heaven.
My blissful relaxation was interrupted by an obscene slurping noise. "Cut out the silly sound effects," I growled. Her response was a muffled popping sound followed by a theatrical gargling. In the circumstances a sharp disciplinary slap was more than justified, and promptly delivered. Her bottom jiggled attractively.
There was a distinct sniggering sound. I was scandalised: that was no way to react . I repeated my admonishment on the other buttock. Blowing raspberries on the penis often offends and I was duly offended.
"Right, it's the hairbrush for you," I snarled, "Get off me!"
I made to slide off the bed and she moved with me. I sat up on the edge of the bed and she slipped on to the floor in front of me.
She shook her head for about half a shake before I managed to grab hold of it. While I had hold of it I tentatively tried to prise it off (me, you understand..) but a sharp sensation down below suggested to me that this was not a good move.
"Right, you asked for it," I muttered, sidling crabwise across the room to the dressing table. She solemnly shuffled across with me, on her knees, clamped like a limpet on my groin. Suitably armed I eased my way back to the bed.
"Let me get back on the bed"
"Slurp, slurp, burble, drool."
"Let me get back on the bed, PLEASE!"
She moved, I moved, cautiously back to where we'd started, save that I carefully rotated her to move the target closer to hand. Fortunately she appeared to be attached by a swivelling connection.
"Now, take that, and that." Her buttocks glowed and bounced and some squeaking was heard.
"Now what have you got to say for yourself?"
I *think* she said 'It's gone so small it's getting damn difficult to hold on' but as she had to grip with her teeth in order to speak my attention was somewhat diverted.
"Right, you've asked for it."
I made every stroke count. Slow and hard with the brush: fiery volleys with the hand until her buttocks glowed crimson and the room rang with her squealing.
As we lay together afterwards I grumbled quietly. "Just for once, can't you just DO it!?"
"Poor baby," she said. And bit my nipple...
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