Moore finally raised his head. He was called Poor Mr. Moore becausehe was so overmatched by the class. He usually just sat at his deskwith his head do...wn, trying to endure the explosions."Class," he began. "Class!"Pretty much, the room ignored him. The topic of conversation was aparty to be holdFriday night at Pete Richards' house, and someone hadbought liquor but had needed a place to store it. If it was left inPete's trunk, the bottles might be broken, and we couldn't have that.So we'd each. "Because I fucking said to. That's why!" reasserting my authority. As you reluctantly bent over my lap, I raised my hand to deliver the first blow. Parroting a line I often heard as a kid, I mocked, "This is gong to hurt me more than it does you." The first loud crack to your ass cheek stung sharply. It felt good to share in the first sting of your spanking. "That wasn't so bad." you taunted. "Is this my punishment for leaving you stranded? Hmmm? If so, I guess your anger was all fabricated.". Modern magazines. I pulled one out and had to laugh out loud. It looked absurdly out of place, the modern girly magazine I held in my hands. So a child had his choice, Good Night Moon or Hello Pussy? I flipped it open and the center fold gave me a sultry look. Her jewelry placed just so over her erect nipples. She was laid back on satin sheets, these artfully arranged to reflect light and shimmer in the photo. No tan lines, her body glowed. She held open her own pussy. There is no pussy in the. Reema didn’t move she just shook, her body impaled on me. I heard her suck in her breath hard. On the exhale she hissed, “Oh god”! Figuring she was in pain I tenderly asked, “Baby girl”? Reema didn’t move an inch for many long heartbeats. She trembled even harder then quite suddenly flung herself forward propping up on her hands, head down. I found myself startled to see her look. Reema face was flushed red her eyes seemed glazed over. Her tiny tits rose and fell with her quick short breaths..