I unbuttoned the top buttons on her white silk blouse revealing her bra and cleavage to everyone in the bar. Simone looked just gorgeous. The way Simone carried herself, and the black dress she wore that was slit halfway up her thigh, black nylons and black shoes highlighted her small petite French body. One of my friends said aloud “another one bites the dust”. Sure enough after a few dances, we found a corner booth and began French kissing. I knew that whenever I wrapped my tongue inside a woman's mouth that I was going to have her and tonight would be no different. I gave Simone my address and cell phone number and she followed me to my house, tucked away in the backwoods of Traverse City. Apparently, Simone did not want to waste any time and the minute we entered the door, she began passionately kissing me all over my neck, face and lips while her hand found their way down my jeans to my older pussy. The pussy that would be in her mouth before the night was over. I was not in the. “This time you’re going to count the strokes. You know how to count?” He asked with an almost sadistic tone. “Yes, sir,” I replied as I grimaced bracing for the first stroke. He spanked me with the paddle and I counted aloud. “One, two, three, four (ow!), five, six.” I said as each stroke hit me. “It’s not ‘four ow!’ Kaitlyn. Now, we begin again from one.” “Yes, Detective,” I replied wondering if I’m going to be able to handle the punishment. He started again. “One, two, three four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.” I counted, this time with a little sniffle from tears. “No tears, Kaitlyn, toughen up. You’re going to need to.” He raised the paddle again. “Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seven, eighteen.” I counted again as the stinging was becoming worse. He rubbed my behind and gave it a pinch, adding humiliation to the pain. He raised his arm. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six.” I continued, this.
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