The Missus Pounded Mine Posterior

The missus pounded mine posterior... causing percussive rumpus Meanwhile good n plenty vibrations resonated felt and heard round the world wide web (strongest quaking sensations occurred upon double mattresses atop bed within apartment unit b44 2 Highland Manor Drive), but woody d'ya believe drumming, flagellating and whipping gluteus maximus spurred surging aftershock tremors launched rocketed pecker (property yours truly). Imagine slap happy spouse ain't misbehavin just being her playful (think cheeky) self knick knack paddy whacking undeservedly thrashing, pummeling, beating the living daylights buttucks long past their prime formerly cute palm pilot tushy, now subjected courtesy cruel aging process wrought ugly human cellulite, nevertheless I made feeble attempts to rear up in protest against asinine wifely antics, while she obviously disregarded feebly wailing for nought me lamely uttering friggin bloody murder in vain. Zee spouse ain't no sadomasochist, she just thrills treating gluteus maximus (mine) as a plaything (think cat toying with mouse) thwacking me fleshy behind until derriere belonging to yours truly feels comfortably numb. Thee aforementioned shenanigans predominantly arise, when wedded counterpart owns advantage, whereby I eagerly welcome shut eye lo and behold only to experience mine hinny quickly getting smacked after I barely shuttered these tired eyelids sneaking couple winks. What recently began as whimsical spur of kickstarting moment ushering tactile kibitizing suddenly became nightly ritual, whereby this humble husband meekly surrenders bare bottom (actually partner with skewed enjoyment at my expense) pulls off outer clothes plus underpants (elasticity long since stretched out) wallopping me bum until flesh heavily spindled, lacerated, and bruised.