It had nothing to do with some sort of unhealthy form of self-loathing! Not in the least. He didn't hate himself for being sexually inferior to these ...ther men! Maybe that was how some people might wish to interpret it, but it was at a significant variance with how he, himself, viewed himself!Though only a very small number of other men (other cuckolds like himself) would understand---but Tomas derived a great deal of sexual pleasure, and satisfaction, in his open admission of being sexually. Oh, hell!We’d gone from the most acrimonious shouting match I’d ever had with a woman, or anyone come to that, to her weeping piteously. From my limited experience I knew I could not cope with a weeping woman, no matter how I felt about her, though I was not at all sure where we were going with this: she’d all but destroyed me, because now she was surely in love with Barry. It was blindingly obvious to me now: I still loved her with all my heart and it was completely hopeless. She was breaking. To my question, if she hurt her sister too, she shook her head so vehemently that her golden locks flew, and she swore at once, that she was so much gentler - by God! As I instructed her about the nature of her blood and the history of the nasty spell that befell women of her age I washed her soiled cunnie, it was only a drop and nothing to worry too much about it. But I ordered her at once to fetch her sister and to bring her personally. Cleaning up my messy desk I thought about decent ways of. I tweaked her nipples hard and dragged my fingernails down her stomach. “I get to be the first person to see between your legs don’t I?” I said. She continued crying. In a very clinical manner, like a doctor, I examined her pussy. Pulling her lips apart, stretching them, looking at her vaginal opening carefully. I used one finger to press down on her clit. Rebecca was red in the face and I could tell she was completely humiliated and embarrassed. She was about to be violated and I knew she was.