Teasing his wife

No duplicates yet. A suggestion for the original poster: please format the page and change the font to light blue. I'll apply for extra points for you. I took my wife to Hong Kong on Friday and returned on Sunday. It was a very enjoyable trip, and I'll write about it now.

Finally, I could take my wife to Hong Kong! My wife was overjoyed at the prospect of traveling abroad, but I, who have been to Hong Kong more often than Guangzhou, had a different plan. My wife knew this, so she playfully scolded me, "You pervert!" while packing a roll of rope into our bag.

Unexpectedly, when we arrived, Hong Kong was experiencing a SARS outbreak. Everyone on the streets was on edge, and many people were wearing masks, which was a bit disappointing. But since we were already there, we couldn't let this "pneumonia" scare us away, could we? Besides, out of millions of people in Hong Kong, only 23 had fallen ill; I didn't believe we'd have that kind of "luck." Moreover, this actually made my "activities" unexpectedly easier—a true blessing in disguise.

After clearing customs on the first day, we checked into the hotel, dropped off our luggage, and headed straight to Ocean Park. We returned in the evening. After dinner, we immediately went upstairs to our room. My wife, having showered, had washed away the day's fatigue; she was clearly in high spirits, her long, wet hair disheveled, her bright, dark eyes playfully darting around, captivating me.

It was only a little past nine; going to bed was far too early. Looking at my wife in her semi-transparent nightgown, her curves fully revealed, I suddenly felt a strong urge. So I made her change, intending to take her out. My wife happily put on her jeans and a silk long-sleeved shirt. I shook my head, saying, "This outfit isn't good." My wife was puzzled, so I picked up a rope and shook it. My wife was startled, "No, how can you do this?"

I ignored her protests and easily stripped her upper body naked. Once her hands were twisted behind her back, her struggles stopped. I easily tied her hands together palm to palm. I wrapped the excess rope around her slender waist three times, tied a knot, and then ran it up her arms, tightly binding her elbows. Because I was worried about being noticed, I mostly kept the rope around her back, avoiding a tight binding that would emphasize her breasts. However, this binding method forced her arms to extend straight behind her back, making them almost invisible from the front. This made her full breasts appear more prominent and slightly parted, and her nipples were noticeably erect. The effect was excellent.

I rummaged through my bag and found one of my wife's coats—originally meant for when she was cold in the air-conditioned car—and draped it over her shoulders, buttoning it up. The coat was quite long, a trench coat style, reaching mid-thigh, perfectly concealing her bound hands. I checked the effect. Because the coat had a low collar, a small portion of my wife's snow-white breasts and cleavage were exposed, but it was more of a sexy look than a revealing one. Of course, a discerning eye could see she wasn't wearing a bra. As for the empty sleeves, thankfully, my wife's trench coat had two pockets, so I tucked them in to make them look fuller.

My wife looked down at herself and asked shyly, "Are you really going to take me out like this?" I kissed her cheek and said, "Of course, but don't worry, I won't take you out on the street. We'll just walk around the hotel." Perhaps wanting some excitement, my wife acquiesced to my plan. And so, I led my bound wife around the hotel for a good half hour, not only circling the lobby but also buying a box of condoms in the hotel's shop—we'd forgotten to bring any. Most people we encountered ignored us during this time, including the cashiers in the shop. Only one bellhop stared at my wife's chest for a long time, until I glared at him fiercely and he hurriedly looked away, I don't know if he saw anything.

Back in the room, I didn't untie my wife, but impatiently pulled down her pants. Sure enough, my wife's lower body was already very wet. What happened next, everyone can imagine, no need to describe. That night we were as inseparable as newlyweds.

The next day we slept until 10 am before getting up and rushing to the SM shop we had booked in advance. I had dealt with this shop many times, and today I had reserved to use their private room for an hour. Although it was almost impossible to run into acquaintances in this city, my wife still wore sunglasses that covered half of her face before daring to enter the shop located in a secluded alley.

Because another SM shop had been shut down by the police last year, they are now very cautious and basically only allow regular customers to use the private room. Moreover, we had to leave all the cameras, video cameras, etc. that we were carrying outside, and my wife's small handbag also had to be handed over to them for safekeeping - of course, I carried all the documents with me.

This rule was only set this year, and we weren't prepared. Later, I remembered that my digital camera and camcorder contained many photos and videos of my wife completely naked and bound. I wondered if the shop staff had seen them during the hour we were inside. But by then it was too late; we had to leave it to fate. Luckily, my wife hadn't thought of this (she's digitally illiterate and doesn't know how to use anything except pressing the shutter button), otherwise, she would have been mortified.

Guided by the shop staff, we went to the back of the shop. I asked the staff for two black hoods similar to those used by the Hong Kong Special Duties Unit (SDU). I wore one and gave the other to my wife. This was to prevent the possibility of surveillance cameras in the secret room (a sign of mutual distrust, but it was the only way). I didn't want my wife's true face to appear in pornographic films (as for being filmed naked, as long as her face wasn't shown, who cared?). The hoods and gags here were new, so hygiene wasn't an issue. After putting them on, we looked at each other's comical faces, only our eyes showing, and couldn't help but burst into laughter. Then, we went into the secret room.

Upon entering the torture chamber, my wife's eyes widened, speechless. It was a room of about 40 square meters, with only one door and no windows on any of the four sides. Near the ceiling, there were three exhaust fans and a split-type air conditioner. The room was filled with various torture chairs, racks, torture beds, and spotlights. Countless chains and ropes hung from the ceiling, and the walls were covered with whips, leather clothing, hoods, gags, ropes, handcuffs, shackles, and so on of various styles and sizes. Although my wife had been subjected to SM for quite some time, our amateur methods were nothing compared to this "torture chamber." After a long while, she finally managed to utter, "No wonder you always come to Hong Kong!"

While she was stunned by this professional-grade torture chamber, my hands weren't idle. With a mix of resistance and resistance, my wife was stripped naked. Under the intense spotlights, her snow-white body contrasted sharply with the surrounding torture instruments, arousing my lust. My wife was completely naked, but wore a black hood, which added to the eeriness of the scene. It was a shame I didn't have a camera to capture her beauty.

I led her to a "door"-shaped rack and had her stand with her legs spread and arms raised. Then I fastened her wrists and ankles into leather straps on the rack, fixing her in an "X" shape. At that moment, I noticed a remote control connected to a wire on the rack, with two buttons, one red and one green, and a knob. I picked it up and pressed the green button, but there was no response. I then pressed the red button, and heard a hissing sound. Then, a metal rod with a mushroom-shaped tip slowly rose from a metal box about 20 centimeters high in the center of the floor, heading straight for my wife's genitals. I was startled. Seeing the metal rod rising and about to touch my wife's delicate skin, I quickly released the button, and the metal rod stopped immediately.

I crouched down and examined the rod closely. It was made of stainless steel, much thicker than my penis. The top 30 centimeters were incredibly smooth and shiny, clearly having undergone considerable wear and tear. From that point onward, the rest was threaded, indicating that the motor underneath used gears to drive the lifting mechanism. I tried turning the knob, and the steel rod began to rotate in the same direction as my turn, its speed depending on the angle of my rotation—the larger the angle, the faster the speed. As soon as I released the knob, it automatically reset, and the rod immediately stopped rotating. I was utterly impressed by this ingeniously designed machine.

I looked up and saw my wife looking down at me, her eyes filled with a pitiful expression. I raised the steel rod slightly, pressing it against her labia, and asked her with a smile, "How's it going? Is it okay to insert this?" My wife was bound ramrod straight, and when she looked down, she could only see her breasts, not her crotch. She felt a chill and said softly, "You've done this to me, so I can only..."

But I didn't want to actually use this steel rod on my wife; it was too big (I later learned from the shop assistant that different thicknesses of steel rods could be installed). I was afraid it would damage her body, and we had many other things to do.

I untied my wife, and when she saw the size of the steel rod, she turned pale (although I couldn't see her face, I could feel her fear). If I inserted it and turned it around a couple of times, I was afraid...

I led my wife to a torture bed. The frame was made of iron, shaped like the Chinese character "大" (da), with the buttocks area raised. The entire bed was covered with black leather. The leather looked old, with some tears revealing a thin layer of sponge underneath. I wondered how many naked women had been tortured on it. Now, it was my lovely wife's turn.

After my wife lay down on the torture bed, I began to secure her body to it with the straps on the bed. The specialized torture bed was indeed different; these straps, with a simple pull and buckle, could tightly bind the flesh, much faster than rope binding. I fastened the straps around my wife's ankles, knees, groin, waist, breasts, wrists, and elbows. My wife struggled to lift her head, the only part she could move, trying to see what I was about to do. I turned her hood half a circle to the side, covering her eyes so she could only face the darkness. Then I picked up my wife's underwear hanging on the wall, pulled the hood up again, exposing her mouth, and stuffed the underwear over it.

I pushed a device with pulleys in the corner of the room next to the torture bed. This thing had many wires, each with an alligator clip or metal strip—clearly an electrocution machine. Due to limitations, I couldn't use this on my wife at home, but now I could finally fulfill my wish. The last time I was here, the shop assistant mentioned their electrocution machine to me, saying they had had experts calibrate the output voltage and current intensity, and that unless someone has a serious heart condition or other serious illness, it wouldn't harm their health. Such a great thing, how could I not try it?

I pinched my wife's nipple, and under my skillful manipulation, the already erect nipple swelled even more. Seeing the opportunity, I quickly clamped the alligator clips onto one of my wife's nipples. My wife let out a painful "groan." I steeled myself and clamped the other nipple as well. My wife shook her head, but didn't groan anymore, seemingly resigned to her fate.

I plugged in the power cord and began to study the operating instructions. Fortunately, each button on the control panel had a small piece of paper labeled with its function—switch, voltage adjustment, current adjustment, etc.—making it easy to use. I first increased the voltage by two levels and then pressed the switch. A crackling sound rang out, and small, bright sparks flew from my wife's breasts. She let out a sharp cry, her whole body convulsing, her hands contorting into claws, her head the only part of her body that could move, her chin pressed tightly against her chest.

Worried she couldn't take it, I quickly turned off the power and went to ask, "How are you?" My wife was breathing heavily through her nose and didn't respond for a long time. I panicked and quickly removed her hood (I didn't care anymore). I saw her eyes were tightly closed, and tears were streaming down her face. I removed the underwear from her mouth and asked repeatedly, "How are you?" while untying the belt binding her.

My wife suddenly shook her head and said weakly but clearly, "I'm fine, don't untie it, just keep going." Those eleven words were like heavenly music to me, and I immediately asked her with delight, "Are you really okay?" My wife opened her eyes, her beautiful eyes misty, "It's uncomfortable, but also very stimulating. You can continue, I'm fine." She paused, then said, "Quickly put it on me, and gag... gag my mouth too, otherwise I'll scream loudly."

Having received this "imperial decree," I naturally obeyed immediately. Just as I was stuffing the underwear into my wife's mouth, she suddenly spoke again, "Can you change the clamp? It hurts so much down there." I looked down and, sure enough, my wife's two delicate nipples were tightly gripped by sharp alligator clamps, with a few drops of blood already seeping out. I cursed myself inwardly and immediately removed the clamps. Thankfully, it was just a small cut, but there were brown marks on her nipples and areolas, like burns from electric sparks.

This time, I wrapped the wire directly around her nipples. Before I began, I told her, "If you really can't take it anymore, just stick out your index fingers, and I'll stop immediately." My wife nodded silently.

I turned on the power, and sparks flew from her breasts again. Her naked body tensed, spasmed, and groaned. I slightly increased the current, and large beads of sweat rolled down her body, her skin flushed. I turned off the power and looked between her legs. It was already soaked, and her dark red clitoris bulged from the thick black hair, gleaming with a lascivious sheen. I turned the power back on, then picked up an alligator clip and pressed it tightly against her clitoris. With the three most sensitive points of a woman being stimulated by the current simultaneously, my wife let out a muffled roar, her whole body trembling violently as she tried to break free of the belt binding her. Watching her reaction, I knew she had reached orgasm in agony, so I turned off the power. My wife immediately collapsed onto the torture bed like a lump of mud, panting heavily, her entire body soaked.

I removed the panties from her mouth to let her breathe better. Then I unbuckled the belt and helped her down. My wife leaned against me languidly. My next target for torture was a leather stool, which I would tie her face down on for enemas and anal torture. But the conditions for enemas were clearly not suitable here (I couldn't very well let my wife run naked out of the secret room to use the toilet, could I?), so I had to give up on that idea.

I helped my wife stand up, then went over and took a roll of hemp rope from the wall. My wife silently turned her back, her hands tied behind her back, waiting for me to bind her. Looking at her snow-white skin on her back, buttocks, and legs, I felt pity, but it only fueled my desire. This time, I didn't use the full binding method, but rather the Japanese method: first binding her hands, then binding her twice above and below her breasts. After binding her, I led my wife to the other side of the secret room, where there was a wooden horse. Its back was round, not the triangular shape commonly used by the Japanese, and it had two pedals of different heights under its belly, like a bicycle. Upon closer inspection, I discovered a hidden secret: a small round hole had been cut into the horse's back, through which I could vaguely see a wooden "phallus." This was the legendary wooden donkey used to execute adulteresses; I had mistaken it for a horse earlier. However, this wooden donkey was fixed to the ground, unlike the legendary ones with wheels.

I said to my wife, "How about it, you little slut, want to try this torture?" My wife lowered her head and softly said, "You've already turned me into a slut, and I'm tied up like this, how can I say no?" I was immensely pleased; the feeling of conquering and possessing a beautiful woman both physically and mentally was truly wonderful.

I found a small crank on the wooden horse—no, the wooden donkey—and cranked it twice, raising the wooden rod about 5 centimeters. I lifted my wife onto the wooden donkey, carefully aimed the rod at her opening, and gently helped her sit down. When the rod entered my wife's body, she gasped. After my wife settled down, I asked her, "How does it feel?" My wife rolled her eyes at me and said, "You know perfectly well what I'm asking. It's not like it's the first time you've used a stick on someone... Oh..." I had already pinched her breasts hard.

I picked up three thin ropes and first tied the ropes binding my wife's wrists to a small iron ring on the wooden donkey's rear end. This way, my wife could only sit on the donkey and couldn't lift her body to avoid the thrusting. I had originally intended to tie the other two ropes to my wife's nipples, but I changed my mind and gave up. Her nipples had already been ravaged by alligator clamps today, and I really couldn't bring myself to do it. So I used the two ropes to tie my wife's feet to the foot pedals.

I cranked the handle again, and I heard a "squeak" sound. My wife groaned, her back straightened abruptly, her eyes widened, and her full breasts stood erect. It was clear that the wooden rod was penetrating her body. Then, my wife began to pant heavily again. I cranked it a couple more times, estimated that it was about the right length, and stopped. Then I saw a switch next to the crank that moved up and down, so I switched it on. Then I started turning the crank left and right. Unexpectedly, this time the crank felt much heavier, and my wife's two snow-white thighs moved up and down with it, while she began to moan loudly, "Oh!" and "Ah!" (I deliberately didn't gag her; I wanted to hear this ecstatic pleasure. This was different from the electric shock). Upon closer inspection, I realized that the switch was locking the foot pedals, the wooden stick, and the crank together. As the crank turned, the wooden stick began to thrust in and out, and the two foot pedals also began to move up and down, naturally moving my wife's legs. The movement of her legs undoubtedly increased her stimulation and pleasure.

I found it interesting, so I simply stopped and let my wife "act on her own." Sure enough, my wife, already in a semi-conscious state, panted and moaned, her legs pressing down on the pedals again and again, letting the wooden stick go in and out of her body, "raping" herself. Her head, covered by a hood, was tilted back high, her body bent like a bow, and her hands, bound to the iron rings, had turned purple from the tight ropes. On her full, round breasts, bound by ropes, two bright red nipples protruded forward, even more vibrant and swollen than before, truly like cherries. I, of course, couldn't resist such temptation. I went behind my wife, embraced her body, and began to ravage her breasts. My wife's voice, coming from inside the hood, grew even louder.

Just as we were lost in our own world, an untimely knock sounded at the door. I was startled, and my wife stopped screaming. I heard the shop assistant outside loudly say, "Sir, you have 10 minutes left, please hurry." Huh? Time flew by? I really didn't want it to end like this. But I knew the time was very tight here; they had clearly stated that we absolutely could not exceed the allotted time. So, I reluctantly untied my wife from the wooden donkey and used the tissues and new towels provided to clean her body—of course, a thorough cleaning would have to wait until we got back to the hotel. Then I dressed her. Her underwear was soaked from being gagged, so she had to leave it on and wear jeans instead. Before leaving, my wife glanced back at the house that would surely remain unforgettable for her.

As she walked out, she bumped into a man and a woman entering. They were clearly also there to rent the escape room. They were both wearing sunglasses, but the woman was clearly very beautiful. My gaze naturally fell on her ample breasts, noticing she wasn't wearing a bra. Before I could get a better look, the four of us passed each other.

We didn't leave the store immediately but instead bought some things outside. At first, my wife kept her head down, shyly avoiding the shop assistants' eyes. Later, she relaxed, snuggling close to me and quietly offering her opinions on the items. This was the first time she had participated in selecting the SM products she would be using.

Sitting in the car on the way back to the hotel, my wife rested her head on my shoulder, gently stroking the bondage marks on her wrists through her clothes. I remained silent for a while, then suddenly whispered in my ear, "Honey, I want to come back here." I turned to look at her; she smiled gently and nodded firmly. Overjoyed, I held her tightly, oblivious to the stares of everyone on the bus. I knew that one day, I would take my wife to experience all the torture instruments in that dark room.

That afternoon, we slept for half the day. I applied a special scar-removing solution to my wife, and by dinner, the marks on her arms and wrists had mostly faded. After resting, my wife was in good spirits and spirits, and I knew we could resume our activities tonight. I planned to tie her up and parade her through the streets again, just like last night.

Back in the room, I first undressed my wife and then carefully bound her. My wife, naked and standing with her legs apart, put her hands behind her back, her face flushed, and waited excitedly. I knelt down like I was worshipping a goddess, gently parted her labia, and inserted the remote-controlled electric flea device I had just bought from the store into my wife's slightly moist vagina. My wife laughed and said, "I knew you'd use this first."

I chuckled, didn't reply, but simply picked up the rope and tied it around my wife's waist and crotch, making her a T-shaped rope panty. I pressed my wife's genitals, which were bound with four ropes, and said with satisfaction, "Alright, now no matter how wet you are, it won't slip out." My wife twisted her body in protest, but her hands remained obediently behind her back.

I stood up and began to tie her upper body. I used the familiar and favorite Chinese five-flower binding method, with the rope draped behind my wife's neck and passed forward under her armpits, binding her arms and wrists. After finishing, I first put my wife's coat on to see if it could cover her up. Fortunately, unless you stood close to her and deliberately looked down from her neckline, you could only see the figure-eight rope binding from her shoulders to her armpits. Because the neckline was low, if you really looked like that, not only the ropes but also my wife's bare breasts would be completely exposed. Of course, it's unlikely anyone would openly look at my wife from that angle, but it's still somewhat dangerous. I didn't tell my wife, just reminded myself not to let anyone stand so close to her.

It took a lot of effort to get her into those jeans (I have a deep understanding of the widest part of a woman's body—the hips—no wonder they're called "hips"). I really regretted not letting her put on her pants first before binding her. It was the first time my wife had gone out without underwear, bound by a rope around her hips. Nervous, excited, and thrilled, anyone could see

the blush on her face. As a final step, I crumpled a small square of handkerchief and stuffed it into my wife's mouth. Then I put the mask I bought at Watson's after dinner on her head—this is one of the benefits of "atypical pneumonia"—masks are everywhere on the street, so gagging doesn't seem so shocking. I led my wife to admire herself in the mirror. What appeared in the mirror was a stylishly dressed urban woman; who would have thought that beneath her clothes was a naked body bound hand and foot?

My hand slipped inside my wife's clothes, caressing her soft, smooth breasts. I asked, "Is it alright to go out like this?" My wife couldn't speak, only nodding slightly. I straightened her clothes, carefully checking for any flaws, then opened the door and went out.

Perhaps because it was Saturday, the elevator was packed. My wife pressed herself tightly against me, trying to cover her chest. But I could see a slight bulge under her clothes at the back—her hands were tied behind her back. Luckily, no one in the elevator noticed. I put my hand in my pocket and quietly turned on the remote control. My wife trembled, almost disappearing into me. I knew it worked, so I turned it off. It wouldn't be good if someone saw us in the elevator.

After reaching the first floor, I took my wife to sit on the sofa in the hotel lobby for a while, then excused myself to use the restroom, leaving my wife alone on the sofa. After leaving the restroom, I didn't go back to my wife but went to another corner of the lobby, where there was a pillar and a fake tree over two meters tall (clearly intended as a Christmas tree). I stood behind the tree, quietly observing my wife.

She sat quietly, her beautiful features, firm breasts (my wife's breasts were truly beautiful, so high and round even without a bra), slender waist, full thighs, and small feet in mid-heeled sheepskin boots outlining a beautiful curve. To have such a beauty was truly a blessing. But only I knew that her alluring body was tightly bound, which only fueled my fascination and madness. I seemed to see through her clothes her small hands bound behind her back, her slightly trembling breasts, and her moist private parts beneath the tightly bound ropes…

My wife, waiting for me to return, began to look around anxiously. I knew her inner bewilderment, shyness, and fear. One could imagine how terrifying it must be for a young woman, without a bra or underwear, bound and gagged, sitting in this unfamiliar, bustling place.

To further arouse her, I turned on the remote control. Only as I pressed the button did I realize I wasn't sure if this distance would be sufficient. Sure enough, my wife didn't react. I took the remote, pulled out the antenna, pointed it at my wife, and pressed it again. Then I saw my wife visibly shudder, knowing it had worked. I turned the intensity up a notch, and my wife immediately blushed, slowly bending over, lowering her head to hide her embarrassment. I simply turned the intensity to the maximum, and my wife's reaction became even more intense. Her whole body trembled slightly, her long hair cascading down her legs, while her legs were tightly crossed and pressed together to relieve the stimulation in her lower body. I could imagine that if she weren't gagged, she would definitely let out beautiful moans; if her hands weren't tied, she would definitely be roaming over her own body.

I tormented my wife for about two or three minutes before turning it off. My wife raised her head with a sigh of relief, her face still flushed, and began looking around for me again. She knew I was definitely toying with her, so she wanted to find me to end this embarrassing game as soon as possible. Before her gaze could even fall on me, I turned the remote back on… My wife squeezed her legs together again…

This repeated twice, and just as we were enjoying ourselves, I suddenly saw a waiter walk up to my wife and say something to her. Oh no! I quickly went over, putting the remote away as I went. My wife was sitting on the sofa, and the waiter was standing, looking down at her, easily able to see into her neckline… Now I saw my wife shaking her head repeatedly. The waiter, bent over, was still saying something.

I walked over and heard the waiter say, “Miss, are you really alright? Should we…” I rushed over, helped my wife up from the sofa, and said to the waiter, “I’m sorry, my wife doesn’t understand Cantonese.” The waiter still seemed confused: “I already asked her in Mandarin…” I ignored him and quickly helped my wife away. My wife clung to me like a frightened little rabbit, her body trembling. Only now did I remember, and I quickly reached into my pocket and turned off the power.

I practically carried my limp wife back to the room, removed her mask and the towel from her mouth, and the words she'd been holding back for so long burst forth: "You bastard, how could you make me perform an orgasm in public?!" She was clearly genuinely angry. I smiled broadly, apologizing profusely, but my hands didn't let up; I quickly stripped her naked again. I had plenty of experience dealing with my wife. I knew she wouldn't be aroused when naked. She struggled, but still bound, she was no match for my ruthless hands.

Amidst the tension, fear, and excitement, her naked body was glistening with sweat. My fingers traced her hardened nipples, instantly extinguishing her anger (she later told me that the stimulation and humiliation she felt this time were so intense that she was actually overwhelmed with mixed emotions, and her outward anger was mostly feigned). She leaned limply against me, murmuring, "Take that one out, it's so uncomfortable... ah... ah..." It turned out that I had turned it on again before she could finish.

Watching a naked, bound woman suffer the torment of lust was truly a pleasure. However, seeing my wife's alluring shyness and ecstatic moans, I soon couldn't resist either. I pushed her down onto the bed, frantically grabbed my Swiss Army knife, and cut the ropes binding her lower body (I didn't have time to untie them one by one). I pulled out the still-buzzing electric vibrator and used my own "tool" to unleash a storm of passion on her body...

After the storm subsided, I untied her ropes and carried her to the bathroom for a good hot bath. I massaged her arms, which were already numb from being bound. My wife looked down at the red rope marks on her body and said softly, "You're so cruel, tying your own wife up and showing her to others." It seemed this experience was truly unforgettable for her.

That evening, we wanted to go out for a stroll, but my wife was exhausted, so we gave up. The next day at noon (we also did some SM in the morning, but it was short and unremarkable, so I won't go into details), we checked out of the hotel and then did our usual shopping, concluding this unusual trip to Hong Kong. But my wife and I both know we'll come back.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/212660.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=212660&aspx=1

Previous Page : A Bold and Unrestrained Woman in the Republican Era (Part 5)

Next Page : Mother abuse(4)

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Teasing his wife

comment Open a new window to view comments