My Dad spanked me for as long as I can remember. When I was little wherever we were he would yank my pants down and give me a slap or two on my bare bottom. Things started to change when I was nearing puberty at around eleven years old. He felt that to properly chastise me I would have to lay across his lap with my pants and underpants pulled down to my knees. Believe me it hurt too. He was a big Polish man. His big hand covered both of my small butt cheeks and even later when I grew some that huge hand could spank both cheeks at the same time. My mother couldn't stand to watch so she would seclude herself in her bedroom until she was sure the spanking was over with.The method my father used changed again when I was about thirteen. He started saving up my spankings for Saturday mornings. My mother worked half days on Saturday so I was home alone with him. Most times on Saturday mornings I would come into the kitchen after waking up and doing my morning toilet. If one of the kitchen. Throughout our conversation Darla and I had been cuddling together and Darla had been slowly stroking my cock. I heard the door to Bob's bedroom close, and I took this interruption as an opportunity to demand Darla's attention to my once again hard and randy male spear. My command was simple and to the point. "Mount me!" Darla sat up facing the foot of the bed, and swung a long shapely leg across my hips. Reaching back into my crotch with careful fingers, she planted my cock head between her pussy lips, then lowered her slick sex chute over my raging erection. For a long minute she just sat there squeezing me with the walls of her cunt. Then began the main event. In a slow, deliberate agonizing cadence, repeated over and over, she would lift herself until only the head of my cock remained connected to her pussy. There she would pause, hanging for long seconds suspended on that bit of blood filled flesh. Suddenly her thighs would give way, and the downward drop of her body would.
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