Her breaths tell a story.
Rapid and inconsistent, they tell me of boundless excitement as I begin the slow, measured process of sliding her panties down to her ankles.
They quicken as my hand caresses her bare, smooth bottom, lying prone in my lap. I slide my hand along the curve of her spine. She squirms at my touch. Anticipation. The build up. I watch the muscles in her thighs and calves twitch erratically with every pass of my hand. Trying to predict where the first strike will land. Trying to tense the muscle, have it dissipate the blow. Let her fantasize.
She usually learns to relax. Let it all go. Cheeks unclench, muscles soften. Her aching little hole goes slack. I alternate my caresses between her bottom and the surrounding muscles. Refamiliarizing the parts of her I’ve touched so, so many times. A long, gradual exhale tells me she’s grown accustomed to this kindness.
That’s when the first smack arrives. Hard, right at the curve of her beautiful cleft. She cries out, breath caught in her throat. Her toned rear immediately tenses. Her balls contract. I feel her tiny cock throb against my thigh. Her head hangs low, eyes clamped shut as she fruitlessly tries to squirm away from me.