By Evangeline Anderson
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Extra info for Dirty Girl
Phillip said grimly above me. “It was meant to hurt. ” Smack. I couldn’t believe it. D. and I was over my partner’s lap getting spanked. Was he for real? Could he possibly be serious? Smack. I began to feel a sharp sting on my bare buttocks. Phillip wasn’t playing around here—those slaps were hard. Apparently he really was for real. Smack. I started to struggle again and reached a hand back to block the next blow. Phillip grabbed it neatly and twisted it firmly, though not painfully, behind my back so I was even more helpless than before.
I wasn’t so sure. And more to the point, why was I sitting here analyzing the situation, when I knew perfectly well that it was all a moot point? I had tried often enough to know I couldn’t make myself … masturbate. Even if Phillip wanted me to. Remembering the new, stern tone in his voice made me shiver and I decided to lay back on the bed and at least try. “Don’t think about it,” I commanded myself. “Don’t think of Sister Mary Francis. ” I struggled to clear my mind and tried like never before.
Okay,” she breathed. She felt so warm and small and helpless cradled in my arms and I felt almost ready to burst, I wanted to help her so badly. I didn’t think I had ever loved her more than right at that moment when she was showing me her most vulnerable, secret self and letting me help her in such an intimate way. Gently, I took her small, well-formed hand in mine and guided it down to the soft vee between her legs. The covers had gotten pushed down again so I could see her French cut black satin bikini panties which barely covered the soft mound of curls at her crotch.