I relaxed into the feel of his hands on my bottom. Samson knew I adored his touch all over my body but his hands on my ass easily could spiral me into that place of no return. He played my body like the instruments he so deftly mastered on stage.
I held very still just as he’d instructed because I knew his threat to stop should I disobey was the truth. He’d done it before-he’d stopped because I disobeyed- and the feeling of being left in need strung me out until he’d finally brought me to my happy place again days later.
Samson kneaded my rounded globes. I lay on my back moaning at the sensation. His fingers so close to my center as they parted my ass, his warm hands enough to ignite a heat within my folds. I hungered for him and he knew it.
He enjoyed this long, sensuous route to our pleasure. He was turned on simply by leaving me on edge to see when I would give in to the begging. He patted softly on my skin, knowing what I needed and purposely not giving it to me. Samson always made me beg for my spankings.
© Paloma Beck, Tantalizing Tuesdays 2013