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Ping Pong Gone Wrong

Memories flooded back. I’d lost, so it was me bent over the table, net repurposed to restrain both ankles, gym skirt hiked up and panties pulled down. Seven swats, we’d agreed. That was my score deficit. The first couple stung like fuck, table tennis bat bouncing off my rump with a pleasing splat. Then searing heat took over and I was begging for it by the time he discarded the bat and

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