This time, still holding me by my wrist, we are not separated. As the doors open to our floor, he leads me off the elevator, and back to our room, st...ll without so much as a word. I know not to ask, I know I’ve done something he’s not happy with, and I better not make it any worse. In what seems to be one single motion, he sits on the bed, grabs my hairbrush from my purse, pulls off my jeans and black lace panties, and pulls me over his knees. It all happens so fast, I don’t have time to. As she finished taking stock, Sandra ran her hand across her small, firm breasts. Not that she'd ever admit it, well at least not to anyone other than George, but the forty-eight year old had always been proud of her rounded mounds. A pride that went all the way back to her junior high school days in Kansas when they had first begun to develop.Feeling both their softness and firmness, Sandra smiled. She remembered with some irony how some of her more endowed classmates used to make fun of her. More

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