Throw a little dash of consequence on there and you got a full meal.I asked ... Still cautious, “For what?” And then before I could shut myself up...— “Cuz I’m not Mom. I know it was wrong. I realize that, I do, but I thought that was great, amazing. I thought that you...”I was ready to go on and on. I had adjectives lined up like paratroopers ready to leave the plain, but Mom raised her hand and cut me off.“I’m sorry I’m always a bitch.” She tells me.The silence grew long and awkward. I was. She was pricing tins today. She is about 25, tall and pretty, but she fails to do it for me. I find when I look at her very pleasant appearance, I fantasize about what her mother looks like. I want her to be older, and softer; mature. She didn't notice my cock but it would have been obvious enough, had she chosen to look there. this excited me, along with the thought of brushing past her, and just stroking her firm bottom with the very tip, but of course I didn't. That would have been pervy in. "Well in every way. He is very attentive towards me and notices whenthings are not right," she explained."Do you ever see Simon at the weekend?" I asked."No only here at school," she replied which indicated that she wasn'taware of him wearing dresses or skirts outside of school.At that time apart from Simon's own family, I was the only one who knewabout the real Simon. It seemed also that instead of being forced orpunished to wear girl's clothes that it was now a strong desire or hisfree choice. Neither of these were very painful.The hairbrush was always served on the naked bottom and would range from six to twenty four whacks. Those could really hurt and leave bruises.As you can imagine the cane was the painful, if you were very unlucky up to twenty four strokes after having been ‘warmed up’ with the hand and the hairbrush, I’m not to sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing but he was ambidextrous, think it probably helped even the tip end of the cane out.That covers the part of.