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Tuesday Melbourne Cup Day 1948, the day the nation stopped work for a horse race, this was greater than religion, the Aussie was a gambler and this Tuesday was the king of races.The race was run and Rimfire with apprentice jockey Ray Neville in the saddle pipped Dark Marne ridden by experienced jockey Jack Thompson at the post. Thompson argued the camera was placed at an angle that favoured Rimfire but the stewards discounted his appeal and Rimfire was the winner of the 1948 Melbourne Cup. Ray Neville had only been riding for three months and took every one by surprise, including our local bookie and a very sour John De Vent. I had good sense not to rub his nose in it but it very satisfying to collect my winnings, I gave Jenny two pounds for being a good sport and holding the money, she was happy as Larry and was already working out what to spend it on.Ron collected from a very subdued bookie, one hundred pounds at 80 to 1 that's a lot of money. Ron insisted that half was mine as it. ” Her free hand grabbed my rump and squeezed it.“Say the word, Chloe,” Mrs. Solomon cooed. Her hand grabbed my other butt-cheek. “We’ll spank her so hard.”“She’s been bad,” Chloe said. “Do it!”“Oh, hell no!” I gasped and thrashed. I squirmed and bucked as they dragged me to the couch and pushed me down on it. My naked breasts rubbed into the cushion. The tip of my dick rubbed against the fabric.A tingle of pleasure shot through me.“This is fucked up, Chloe.”“You were bad,” she answered. “Take your punishment.”Ms. Lyon’s hand pulled away from my rump. The air swished.SMACK!I gasped at the stinging pain shooting through my rump. The heat melted down to my pussy. I squirmed there, my nipples rubbing against the fabric. My cunt clenched and futa-dick throbbed from it, girly nuts swaying between my side.“That fucking hurt!” I gasped.“It was supposed to,” Ms. Lyon purred.Then I realized that Mrs. Solomon’s hand wasn’t on my rump any lon—CRACK!Hers didn’t land as hard, but it still hurt. I.
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In daylight, the entrance to Monica’s flat seemed even more depressing than it had been last night. The whole building showed signs of neglect and obvious maintenance failings. As Monica opened the door the inside of the flat was equally neglected. She stood aside and let me in. Simon greeted me with outstretched hand.“We need to talk, John,” he announced.“I think we do,” I replied cautiously.He was smiling so I didn’t think our talk would be antagonistic. I put the suitcase down in the kitchen.“Madam’s laundry,” I said.“Thank you, John. You two can talk in the living room if you want. The twins are still having their afternoon sleep.”“I think we could talk better if we go for a walk,” Simon suggested. “That way we won’t disturb the twins, nor will they disturb us if we wake up.”“OK, if you think that’s better,” I answered.We left the flat. Monica kissed both of us on the cheek as we left.“You can have coffee when you return,” she said as we walked away.“I don’t think we will,” Simon.

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