In the dim glow of a bedside lamp, punishing my wife begins with whispered words only she can hear. She’s wearing nothing but lace panties, and punishing my wife adores how she peels them away inch by inch. Her skin flushes rose as her own touch ignites her in punishing my wife. Every circle of her fingers over that sensitive bundle feels sacred in punishing my wife. She rides the edge for what feels like forever in punishing my wife, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. When she finally lets go in punishing my wife, her entire body shudders in waves that the lens of punishing my wife captures perfectly. The afterglow in punishing my wife is almost more erotic than the act itself—soft smiles, lazy stretches, the quiet satisfaction of a woman who knows exactly how powerful she is. punishing my wife is pure feminine bliss.