I squeezed her beautiful ass in a firm grip. She moaned a little and pushed against my hand. Quickly and without warning, I drew my hand back and...brought it down against the soft, smooth skin of her ass with a sharp, stinging crack. She cried out softly in a mixture of pain and pleasure. A red hand print appeared on her ass. My cock stiffened at the sight of it. I spanked her again, putting another hand print on her other cheek. “Oh yes,” Liv said through a moan, coaxing me on. . When we had first moved in, everything was a blur. Once we were settled we never talked much besides quick updates about work and the living situation or deciding who would go shopping. After some time it became clear that we were holding back our emotions, refusing to talk about our anger at my dad, refusing to talk about the grief of his death and his confusion.We tried to deal with this and there were bursts of sobbing, of manic pacing and chattering, of calls during breaks at work when one. More

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