Whimpering and moaning, I arch and beg you to stop. You just laugh and drip it again over the other nipple. I twist away and you reach out to slap my ...ace lightly, telling me to stop moving. Stepping towards the bottom of the bed, you drip wax onto my pussy. I cry out again, begging you to stop. You look up at me, and continue to drip it again and again over my pussy. As much as I beg you to stop, you know that I like it and that I want you to keep doing it. Putting the candle down, you start. Working in the 1950s would definitely be different from working in the 21st century. Not only that, there would be other changes. There are no faxes, no copiers, and no computers to make things simpler. Records will be much more primitive and harder to keep. However, life wouldn't be so hectic, so that would make things a bit easier. Melissa felt a bit strange driving the big gas guzzling steel machine to work. It was like driving a small tank. She giggled softly. Things were going to be. More

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