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If my moaning and utterances weren't enough to give me up, that fact that I was starting to thrust and you could feel the head of my dick slowly starting to expand - a sure-fire giveaway if ever there was one - told you that now was the time to change. You stop what you are doing - disappointing for me - and you stand back up and plant a big kiss on me. A wet kiss as you have just been down on me, but that's okay. Maybe I am different, but I find it quite sexy that I am kissing you when you have just had me inside your mouth. After our kiss, you whisper in my ear "There will be more, don't worry. If you thought that was good, just wait till after I am turned on. I mean, I am turned on already. What I mean is that after you make me cum. If you think I am horny now, think of how I will be after that...".Sometimes I am slow to take the hint - that should make you laugh as you read this. Not THIS time though, I take your hand and lead you to the bed. I shed my socks and shirt. ...Tiffan..nny...Im so...oorry..." he sobbed.Tiffany looked down at her now younger brother's face and saw his tearsoaked cheeks, she was starting to feel sorry for him. However, as shewas bout to let him up she spotted her doll across the room still halfcovered in mud. The sight of this crystallized Tiffany's resolve, andany mercy John could have expected evaporated in an instant. With a furyshe began the spanking again. SLAP! SLAP! SMACK! SLAP! SMACK! SLAP! Theblows came down faster this time, and John was howling in pain andhumiliation. His body was now much shorter than Tiffany's, his arms wereskinny as toothpicks as were his legs. His pants had fallen off, alongwith most of his clothes, his tiny red butt was clearly visible. Johnsface had gotten chubbier along with his stomach. Tiffany could tell thathe couldn't take much more, but she wouldn't stop until he was harmless.John was frantic now, he was struggling with all his might to try andget out of his sisters grip, but she was.
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Excitement was high. Their king had brought them, they had a duty, but the sights and sounds and smells were enough to enchant them. Especially the youngest knight, who was called Hunter. ‘My lord,’ he said, as he rode in a place of honor, next to the winter king, ‘this is a beautiful land.’ They were passing over a river and the wooden bridge echoed soundly under the battle steed’s hooves. The water caught Hunter’s eye for a moment: it shone and wound, a silver ribbon, through the mounded hills of wheat. ‘Well husbanded and fruitful,’ he exclaimed as the band cut through a grassy path between trees in an orchard dripping with blossoms. His lord, the winter king, did not reply, though a slight twitch could be marked in the cheek, between the steely eye and grim line of a mouth. A veteran of these journeys let his horse surge forward so that Hunter could hear him call. ‘Better keep your wits about you then, lad. If you like the produce, you should see the women.’ The warriors all.

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