He placed his hands on the sides of my hips to give himself leverage. I let go of his boner so it could plow up the furrow of my gooey groove. It made a couple of trial runs in the runny rut of my furry mound. Then, he asked, “Mother?” I knew what he wanted. He didn't have to spell it out. But I wanted to make it official. “Fuck me, Marty!” I murmurred, “Fuck momma, good.!”If the Great Spirit was looking down from the eagle's perspective, he saw me on my back with my knees high, asshole exposed to the sky and my hole plugged with my son's cock. Like a wild animal I was locked in mating, devolved back to the most primitive instincts - yes, plant a seed in this squaw! "Give me your child, Marty!" I encouraged my ravager as he pounded away at my blood-engorged gash. The squishing sounds were all but drowned out from our grunts and groans and moans and squeals and vocal cries of ecstasy. His nut-sacks flailed my crotch as he hit the bulls-eye - make that cow's-cunt - centered. Do you remember the rules kitten? You will not speak except to count the strokes I deliver to you. If you mess up the count or you forget to count we start over. Nod your head if everything is clear. She took a deep breath, defiantly glared at him through her tears and nodded. He sat slightly sideways on the bed and stretched one leg out; leaving one on the floor, then pulled her across his leg. He bent his leg and laced his through hers which meant his knee rested against her mons and he had more control of her movements. He held her cuffed wrists, let the cane settle on her backside and felt her tense up. He slowly played with it, caressing her from her thighs to the top of her ass until he felt her slightly relax. As she relaxed slightly he raised the cane and flinching as he knew what was coming he struck her with the cane at a full swing. Her scream reverberated through the room and he wanted to stop and just hold her. Knowing he had to see this through to its conclusion he.
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