Spanking Pact

Rugby dad and the school master

It was Saturday night and Bruce was back from work, hot and sweaty in his suit and tie he stomped into his house on the hill on to the wooden floorboard of his pristine school masters house he got with his job at the boy’s college. He rubbed his crotch and rubbed his bell end through his trousers and adjusted his balls he sniffed his palm it smelt of balls sweat ripe he thought, his arsehole twitched, he felt a bit horny, he decided it was wine time. Bruce was 59 big juicy pecs and butt hairy crotch and arse and chest, muscle bloke, bald head with big black moustache.

The Pinot Noir stained the glass a bruised purple, Bruce sat in his leather wingback chair, the hide creaking under his six-foot-five frame, his woollen suit trousers had grown tight on his tree trunk legs in the chair he felt his underpants creek up in between his sweaty hairy arse cheeks, it was kind of uncomfortable but also felt good up his perineum, he sat deeper in the seat his underpants went right up his crack his arsehole twitched again and then his bellend twitched he flicked his big nipples through his shirt, he was horny, it felt horny. His study smelled of old parchment, piss, cum, man sweat, expensive tobacco, and the lingering scent of floor wax from the halls of the boys' school he commanded. He ran a thick finger over the edge of his silver-streaked Mustache, feeling the coarse hair prickle against his skin. At fifty-nine, and because he was big and bald Bruce possessed the kind of presence that silenced a room without a word he was a big bloke, big chest big back, his chest was big , juicy, he had big pig nipples that had gotten big from being worked on for years, nipples stood up perky, hairy., and a dense thicket of curly grey chest hair peeked from the open ...