Шариковая ручка Parker "IM Metal K223. Brushed Metal Gold GT"

It passed across my vision. My hips jerked. "No, Beatrice," my aunt intoned. Her words were chiding, soft. The stinging in my bottom from the strap deepened and splurged. "Look at me, Beatrice. Peep your tongue between your lips. Just the tip." My eyes were Aunt Maude's eyes. They knew countries of the past I had not visited. My tongue peeped. Amanda would lie on her bed at home. The veils of her undoing would be raised. The strap would rise and fall. The metal bands would become gold bands. The roseate hue of her bottom would dwell in his mornings, illuminate his evenings. "Good… so… remain… do not stir," my aunt admonished me. The feather tickled and moved between my thighs. I bit my lip. My tongue retreated. My aunt was kind. She waited. A bubble of saliva floated from the re-emerging tip of my tongue. It dwelt on my lower lip. I sang in my throat and felt the twirling of the tip -the white heat of it around my button. Aunt Maude's eyes dared me to turn from hers. I held. Up, down, the feather teased. It entered me ...»