Just like that."So I started spanking her, going back and forth between her cheeks."Oh, yeah, that's nice," she moaned. "Pull down my jeans."She reach...d under her belly to unbutton and unzip them. I slid them midway down her thighs to reveal her striped, silky panties. Then I started spanking her again, letting my hand push upward against her cheeks with each swat and watching them bounce back into place. She began to gasp lightly with each stroke and wiggle around as I picked up the pace."Do. Matilda lifts up the armrest that separates their comfortable seats and sinks into hers. She enjoys the warmth radiating from the man muscular body and naughtily makes use of the bus bumping motion to ride her bottom to touch his musdular thigh.This bumpy stretch of the highway pushes her bottom more firmly against her man. Riding the bumps, she enjoys what her bum is feeling for her. As the man moves, the back of his large left hand presses against her curves.“Jesus,” Matilda mumbles to. It was amazing, he thought, how a small thing like this could make him feel so good.His mind drifted as a light breeze blew over him. He thought about what he'd done with his life since... well, he didn't want to think about that incident. He realized though, that he hadn't even been on a bicycle in years. Why had he given it up? He'd loved to road ride and it had complimented the marshal arts training so well. For the first time in years his body yearned to get on a bike and just ride. Even. Cruelty is a human value. The cosmos is cold. It is the utter lack of warmth, of caring or concern, that perversely turns me on. Some masochists enjoy the stimulation of physical pain; for me, the pain I crave is psychological. It is the pain one experiences when one's human warmth fails to melt the cold implacability of the cosmos, as personified by an inhuman god.--or a Master who cares and empathizes not at all when you suffer. All the better if he shows no emotion whatsoever. The perfect.
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