Indian Girl's Arse - 36
She let out a breath and struggled to stay on her toes, desperately trying to relieve the ache in her wrists, arms, shoulders. Again, the sounds: Whistle, snap, crack, clang, tinkle. Again, the motion as she teetered on tiptoe. She understood. She was to dance, he was providing the music. Over and over the whip landed beside her stretched toes with the red painted nails. Over and over she moved them to avoid the sting of the whip. Often she would throw herself completely off balance, and would spin like a graceful ballerina before gaining control, and being able to stop. She danced and danced; breaths became labored as she continued, breathing only through her nose. Her beautiful blonde hair became dark with the moisture of perspiration, and rivers of sweat trailed down her face, tracing her jaw line. Her spine was like a riverbed, the moisture flowing down into the crevice of her bottom. Her breasts and stomach shined as if oiled. She could feel the pricks on the backs of her legs. Finally, he asked her, “Sugar, aren’t you going out?”“No!” she said, just like that. “Why?”“Nothing. You usually see the girls. I’ve got to get to the club soon. About thirty minutes.”“I’m not going out tonight, and maybe not ever again.“Whoa. That’s harsh.”“I’ve found my man.”She grabbed him and hugged him and kissed him full on the lips. She gently used the tip of her tongue and licked his eyelids, his earlobe, and gain kissed his lips. Bitch, silly or not, she was sweet, he thought.Her eyes were all bright and shining. Finally, she let go and went into the kitchen. He hopped into the shower, came out and started dressing. He smelled food. “Hey, what’s that?” he called out.She came in with a plate full of ham, eggs, and cheese sandwiches. They looked good. He started in on them hungrier than usual. She went back for coffee. This was something, Nathan was.
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