There is not much that I can remember of Miss Brooks' facial characteristics but when I think of her as I often do these days, I see her glorious backside bent over and framed by those exciting black garters and her translucent skin that will forever beckon me like a sensuous siren in the fog calling to me from the dangerous rocks.
It never fails to arouse me from my dormant state of libido-barren loneliness whenever I imagine her heart-shaped bottom under my control and her deep blue eyes looking over her shoulder waiting for my touch. My ability to defeat her traitorous sphincter ready to surrender at the touch of my dick leads me to hump her with a frenzy that could only be accurately described as obsessed.
After I am fully buried in her narrow channel I navigate her passageway with complete abandon not caring about decorum or allowing her to retain any semblance of dignity in her degradation. I knew she was in full accord with my frantic pounding from the way she lifted her hips to meet me and her screams of pleasure that threatened to expose me to the wrath of my neighbors.
I still keep the special paddle on the wall with her name on it.
It will always remind me of how she blubbered her silly excuses and pleaded for mercy just to stir me into greater effort with my arm and skillful use of the nasty hard paddle. My memory holds true with the perfect shade of her reddened cheeks. They changed gradually from snow white to fire engine red as the blows from my paddle stacked up into an impressive cumulative quantity of affronts to her self-respect.
The feel of being fully seated in her saddle at the final act of such sessions tended to make me ache with the need to keep her sensuous rump under my control. I would guide her with my knees and dig my fingers into her yielding flesh just before giving her the gift that keeps on giving and dripping and filling her void of emptiness. For some reason, the process of draining into Miss Brooks from behind seemed to go on for an eternity and she would tremble and shift in different directions underneath me forcing me to give her a little more when I thought there was nothing left to offer her.
The sight of garters of any texture or color is enough to set me off again but I am especially excited by the vision of black garters on white skin just like Miss Brooks bending over in my over-active imagination.
I currently have two "girlfriends".
One is a silly naïve schoolgirl age blond called Tammy and she likes to wear her hair up in a ponytail and that is entirely well-received by me because it gives me something to pull when I am filling her tank up from behind. I have to confess she is not a bright girl but I think that is what attracted me to her in the first place. It was relatively easy to convince her to don the black garters and nylons for me despite the fact she was the sort of girl that tended to omit panties from her items of clothing most of the time. The combination of her lack of undies and the display of garters and nylons would make me so hard that there could only be one way to return me to a normal state of relaxation.
My other close bonking buddy is a married woman with the unusual name of Hortense.
I like to call her Ho just to see her look of annoyance at my lack of respect for her need to be placed on a pedestal of feminine mystique. She is so prim and proper that I draw great pleasure at humiliating her with little tricks that make her squirm under my tutoring.
Ho is the sort of woman that spends a lot of time in front of a mirror and she loves to keep every single strand of hair in its proper place. I love to muss her hair and sometimes will even decorate it with my juices to make it all tangled and difficult to unsort the mess. She is reduced to anger and then despair by my treatment and when I tell her to get into the "face down" position, she is so angry that she balls her hands up into little fists. That is the way that I know she wants to hit me as hard as she can but she usually follows my instructions because I have taken the time to train her well.
I thought it best to keep Ho and Tammy separated and they are not really aware of each other. Of course, they both know I have alternate female back-up to provide me with the variety that any man of the world needs to stay abreast of the current fads of sexual inspiration.
One of my fetishes that I like to indulge is to have either Tammy or Mrs. Ho to sing out loud for me when I am poking them with my determined erection. I have found that when I am buried deeply in anal congress that they both sound their very best of all. I have been meaning to record them with the sounds of our copulation fairly easy to discern on the recording and meant to include our verbal exchanges as well as the pretty melodies. Some of the things those girls would say when taking it up the ass are completely unexpected and delightfully entertaining.
The first time I gave it to Tammy she looked over her shoulder and asked,
"Is it in, my darling? Please tell me it is in."
A moment later when I was fully buried inside her very core, she was able to gasp,
"Oh, I know it is in now, dearest. Make me take it hard and fast."
Tammy was more vociferous than the older Mrs. Ho because she was far less inhibited and displayed her feelings and emotions on her pretty face without any trace of acting. That was one part of her personality that I really like the most. Well, that and the way she would bend over so low that she could put the palms of her hands flat on the carpet. It is difficult to describe the sensation of being so fully buried deep inside her when she took that position. It was the sort of thing that only a teenaged girl could do without pulling a muscle or losing her balance. Sometimes she would "duck-walk" with me trailing along behind her making us look like a four-legged wheelbarrow. I knew that Mrs. Ho could not possibly do those contortions but she had her own medley of special tricks to keep me well entertained.