I want you to make me miss you; sorry I ever let you go, and things that will make me impossibly horny. I want you to tell me true stories that will h...ve me jerking off because the visual imagery of what you’ve done is irresistible and demands satisfaction of my arousal. Can you do that?”Amber laughed, “I can try, Mr. Horndog. Maybe we can even Skype once in a while, or I can send a video I’ve taken, or maybe even do a live video porncast of some kind. I promise all those things, and I will. He was in the kitchen sipping a mug of hot coffee. I asked if I could join him and of course he said certainly. We talked for a while. Actually I did most of the talking. I told Pete where I worked and how many times I would come home from a long day wishing I had my own personal masseur waiting for me to relax my neck and shoulders, and possibly other parts that may need some extra attention. I asked, “Pete, what makes your massages so special? Rhoda has told me you are the best masseur she. ”My mind went racing. I have figured out in recent years that Mom rarely does anything with no purpose, and she is bright, so often has two, or even, three birds at which she aims her stones. Hmm, I thought. I wonder. We’ll have to check on that.I brought my mind’s deviation to an end and responded, “That may be. What is she up to, now,” I asked, rhetorically.Rhee shrugged her shoulders and asked, “What do you want to do? It’s still only 10.”“How’s your mom? Is she still moping over that. It almost looked ridiculous, with its little rubber balls all on the flat side. Without warning Roy turned and brought the paddle down firmly on Stella’s ass. “Count!” he demanded as he struck again. “t –t two…” Stella Sobbed. Roy stopped the paddling and grabbed her hair, pulling it back. “Where did you learn to count?? You start at one!” Barely giving her a chance he rained down another three blows before she could scream “One!!” then he slowed down, forcing her to count out each blow.Roy.
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