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Sometimes she thought that was the best part: the sheer, tingling anticipation of what was about to happen: Slave Hardcore Night . It had evolved during the previous year as Anita had discovered that sometimes she enjoyed being told what to do during her lovemaking with Don. Don was certainly not dominant by nature – their day-to-day relationship was generally very well balanced in that regard. But he quickly learned to enjoy his role, becoming more and more brusque as he took command of her pleasure. Over time their role-playing had expanded, becoming a kind of occasional foreplay, with Don ordering her into the bedroom and making her strip for him before they teen began. Then little by little their roles became a kind of theme for an entire evening, sometimes spontaneously but more and more often at Anita’s request. And now… It always began the same way, and amateur Anita loved the whole ritual of it. Maybe that was the best part: When she hurried through the door her husband Don would be sitting in the living room, reading a book or magazine. And even though the front door was well within his line of sight, on Slave Night he never looked up or acknowledged her presence in any way. Because she wasn’t really there - not yet. So Anita would simply drop her purse and laptop by the door and hustle up the stairs as quickly as she could. In the bedroom she would shed all her clothing and jewelry, then take a shower, during which she would wash herself thoroughly, scrub off her make-up, shampoo her hair and then shave everywhere, even if she had done it that very morning. This part of the ritual always heightened her arousal, but she would never touch herself, no matter how tempted. It was not allowed. Afterwards she would dry her hair and brush it until it shone, falling down to her shoulders in a curly mane. She would spray a mist of perfume into the air and walk through it. And then she would kneel in front of her dresser, open the bottom drawer and reach under the sweat-clothes and winter socks to retrieve her treasure. Don had found it on eBay and given it to her on her birthday: a heavy, wide, gold-plated collar, girlfriend delicately engraved with the name Precious One . Anita often wondered whether it had belonged to a large, slobbery and beloved dog…or another slave. But no matter, it was beautiful and it gave her goosebumps every time she removed it from the drawer, because of what came next. Cradling it in her open hands as though it was a crown, Anita would carefully rise until she was standing upright then turn and walk, with slow, formal steps, out of the bedroom, down the stairs and into the living room, trying to breathe normally while checking out of the corners of her eyes to be sure that cumshot Don had remembered to close the drapes. Because it wouldn’t do for the neighbors to see what was about to happen: Anita, completely naked, kneeling and prostrating herself before her husband, her face to the floor, her arms stretched out in front of her, her hands offering the collar. Don would always ignore her at first, and Anita loved that, being made to wait in that submissive pose, completely still and silent. Often it was her first tranquil moment in days or even weeks, and she was grateful for it, happy to just be aware of her breathing as it began to slow and soften, and of her mind, usually a whirlwind of anxious and angry thoughts, as it gradually settled until the only thing that needed to be done was wait. Maybe that was the best part. Or was it when Don, having learned to judge exactly the right moment, would put his reading aside, lean down to take the collar from her hands, then gently brush her hair away from her neck before enclosing it within the collar, fastening it with a firm click? For Anita that one sound, the smooth, metallic latching of the collar around her neck, was the sound of a door being closed on her entire, frantic daily existence. There was no company to run, no clients to placate, no employees to supervise; there was nothing at all beyond her awareness of the collar, the cool metal encircling her neck. There was also a small wooden desk for a workspace, a small couch, and a leather recliner. She reached out again and picked it up and she ran her hands over the design. Mark, Tim, and Tomas begin to have a suspicion as to what might happen. I hope my mobile home gets here soon. After several minutes, Mr. Cross gave us the ‘cue’ and I let Dirk’s cock slide out of my mouth. “Fuck, this is too much,” I say to myself as I lay back down. Diane comes over to him and kisses him as a fiancée should. No tan lines!” she giggled. “Did you go and talk about us?” Peter grinned as he lay on his back and winked at me. It seems to go on forever, but it probably takes about fifteen standard galactic minutes before the crowds surrounding my friends begin to thin. You're so good with it! She inhaled her sister’s aroma as she tied up her hair. We were both sticky with sweat from fucking, so he decided that he ought to bathe the baby. Dehydrated, cumshot eyes dilated, cracked bones in the hands and torso, it looked like the limbs were pulled out the sockets slightly, and there was this… look in his eye, amateur like something had him horrified but amazed at the same time. The adventure side seeks something new and outside what feels normal or routine. Me - Umm... I just don’t feel comfortable revealing those things in front of Hardcore an audience we may not be able to trust. His right hand moved gently over her panties clad small buttocks and ass. It was circular, with what seemed to be massive rooms every few meters that were jammed full of books. Gloria’s head reeled back, her mouth gaped in a crimson girlfriend oval, and she screamed. While I ate I could not help teen but think what would happen if people found out? Jason held his breath. This was the first time a grown man had returned any kind of sexual flirting with me and I loved it!