Oh, la, la, hello spanking devotees, here’s another short, sharp slap from Grand Slam.
I allowed the same scents as in the first, noisy room to filter up my nose. At the same time sounds emerged. They’d been distant initially, like mist rising on a lake, but now they became clearer. Voices but not words, moans, gasps, a groan deep and guttural and then a slap and someone cried out. A yelp, another slap and a moan.
God, that moan, it was male I was sure and it went straight to my clit. Swelling the little nub and making me wriggle on my seat. I didn’t need to see to know that it was a moan of pleasure. The yelp, that was pain, I was certain, but the same voice had quickly released a gurgle of appreciation.
I leaned forward, hoping to hear more and was rewarded by noises to my left, panting and the friction of skin on skin. “Oh, yes, yes, yes…”