She brushed the tip of the crop across my nipples, first one then the other. She flicked it down against the right, then the left. Then she brushed it...over them again. She did this routine a couple of times and each time I realized they were becoming more sensitive to the rub of the crop. I found myself actually wanting her so flick them then touch them with the little piece of leather. I looked down and realized my cock was dancing like it had a mind of its own. She stopped using the crop on. Much older. Her hair was starting to streak gray and her face was wrinkled and a bit leathery. She had been married twice and had three brats in school. She didn't have much in the way of formal education, but she was surprisingly well-read and had a lively intelligence.Ah, the conversations we had. I felt completely at ease in her presence. I could talk to her about anything without worrying about making an ass of myself. There was more to the world than baseball and hot cars and girls, and. More

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