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Well, it’s one thing writing to someone, but another thing actually going to their house for a weekend when you haven’t even met them. I was in a right quandary. I spent the next couple of days trying to make up my mind what fetish to do. I wasn’t concentrating on my job, and got told-off a few times. Looking back, I suppose that that helped me to make a decision. I checked the bus times, booked a ticket, and wrote a quick note to Jon. I would be arriving at eight-fifteen the following Friday evening. For me this took a lot of courage and if it wasn’t for the fact that I desperately needed for something interesting to happen in my life, that Jon’s letters and photograph gave me the impression that he was an alright sort of man, Mms that the thought of the magazine turned me on every time I thought about it; then, I just wouldn’t have been going. On the Friday morning before leaving, I got another letter from Jon saying that I was to wear smart clothes for the interview and that trousers or jeans didn’t come into that category as far as he was concerned. That didn’t please me too much as it was April and in the UK April is never a warm month. Never mind I thought, I wanted to look my best, and spent hours deciding what to take with me and doing my make-up. I was glad that I had decided to take the whole day off work. In the end, I decided that I would wear a mini-skirt and white blouse, both of which I had made myself. I was quite Bhabhi proud of the fact that mature I could make a lot of my own clothes, and this short pleated skirt and thin blouse looked good on me. The journey took five hours, and I had to change twice. If I hadn’t been so excited, I’m sure that I would have been quite tired when I got there. Not a good way to be at an interview. The excitement stopped me from getting any sleep. When I finally got there I had my bag in one hand and the photograph of Jon in the other and walked all over the bus station without finding him. I was just beginning to get a bit worried when a car stopped beside me and Jon jumped out. He just apologised for being late, told me to put indian my bag in the back, and got back in. As we were driving away he said that he often had to work late, which was one of the reasons why he wanted a housekeeper. Before I knew it, we were pulling into a pub car park. I followed him into the pub, and we sat at a table and waited to be served. This was one of those pubs that have a restaurant attached and Jon had just assumed that I was hungry. Over the meal and a Housewife few drinks we just talked about our lives in general, never touching on the subject of discipline at all. Well, not until a couple of hours later after I had had a few drinks. I was a bit nervous, and was looking for some Dutch courage. All of a sudden Jon stated asking about the times that my Dad had spanked me. He wanted to know all the details, everyone who was there, what state of dress I was in, what I was feeling, during and after the spankings. He even asked me to describe how I played with myself afterwards. This was something that I would never have dreamed I would talk about, yet here I was telling this stranger all my most intimate thoughts. It just seemed right; and I imagine the alcohol helped. As we walked out of the pub, I was feeling quite happy, and was beginning to like Jon. We got back in the car and drove to Jon’s house, which was only a few hundred yards down the road. As I mature tried to do my paperwork, the dog was walking around the game room sniffing. It was incredibly sexy watching her arch her back in an attempt at getting loose. The contractions of her orgasm squeezed Mms my tongue like a pulsating vise in one wave of pleasure after Bhabhi another before she lay still. Once Uncle Dan sat down fetish at the desk and started looking through the drawers, I felt Dad's hand creeping along my thigh getting closer to my crotch until he grabbed my soft cock through my pants. "Gee, thanks." What would you Housewife have done if you were naked in a changing room with her, indian watching her get dressed and undressed?” This is more than my obligation as a person, this is my obligation as a human being.” what’s up cutiebutt?” Each ended with a large stubby pencil eraser and they hung so much lower than any girl my age could have. “Urg… Gloria? ‘Open your legs for me…..let me touch you…….I want to feel you.’ I urged.