I couldn’t help but notice how pink her cheeks were. They were the shade of bubble gum. “You have an incredible back porch.” I said. “It ...ould use a man’s touch, though. Care to take a whack at it? Or maybe several? “Looks like someone’s already done that today.” “Yeah. I got a little cheeky with a friend of mine, so he bent me over and showed me the error of my ways. But that was hours ago.” “Does it still sting?” I asked, giving one of her cheeks a squeeze. “Marvelously!”. Sara meanwhile was watching her young child stare at her, and decided to “accidentally” spill syrup on her freckled breasts. She purposefully decided to wear another of her tank tops; this one was plain with thin straps and barely enough room to support her massive love-making boobs. Kyle quickly looked up to avoid staring at his mother’s cleavage, but his actions were too obvious. “You’ve already been with me while I was bare naked, not to mention I'm your mother.” She coaxed, drawing out her. Along the way, she inquired several times about what I had bought her, but I told her to be patient. We arrived there parched in the late afternoon and checked into a little shabby motel. The room was small but accommodated two beds. The AC however made such a racket. So, we decided to go out to quench our thirst. We sat for an hour or so at a beach front café. She was approached by vendors. Little did they know that this little lady was no gringo and could haggle price with them like no. ‘What are you doing, Mistress?’ Stacey asked in a fearful manner, tears in her eyes as she stared intently at Benita. ‘DON’T CALL ME THAT!’ Benita shouted as she swiftly and surely removed the slave collar from around Stacey’s neck and tossed it on the bed beside her. ‘I’m not your Mistress, anymore,’ she added as she resumed her packing. ‘Please! Ben, Honey, don’t leave me!’ Stacey cried out as tears flowed down her face as she cried unchecked, her legs and arms still bound to the bed. ‘We’re.
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