Wearing black lace. Black heels. Skin so white. I look down. I don't like looking at myself.She lifts my chin up with a finger, “Look...”My hazel ...yes. Doe eyes, she calls them. She cups my chin in her hand, She turns my face side to side, making sure I look. That I see myself. Controlling where I look. What I see.Her hand drops away and I feel a tug on my collar. We walk to the table. A nice, black lacquer table. She leads me right to it, legs touching the edge. Handcuffs and the keys are. Now I could see Peter massaging my wife’s pussy through the outside of her G-string knickers. My cock was harder than it had been for a long time.Tony sat back down on the sofa, his trousers bulging in the crutch.Peter removed his hand from between Jo’s legs and stood up to undress.Jo reached over and grabbed the bulge in Tony’s crutch, her tiny fingers barely reaching around the phallic shape in the front of his trousers. They french kissed passionately.Nobody was saying anything. Sex and. The road crews were building a road just inside the tall chain-link fence, all the way around the perimeter of the property. Gravel trucks were dumping the SB-2 chat (crushed limestone) into a spreader which was laying an eight inch deep roadbed of chat, twelve feet wide. I watched for a while at the way the crews were making progress as fast and as far I could see. There were fifty foot towers going up every fifty yards along the fence and I figured this was where the motion detectors and. " Abe don't say shit, of course. There is a pause, then the guy says, "Tara tells me Abe prefers to have you around." Abe don't know no better." I can't even look at the guy, I'm so embarrassed."I'm sure he has his reasons," the guy says.I force myself to look at him. "Look, Mister -- this ain't my Sunday best -- but then..." I shrugged." ... This isn't Sunday?" the guy finished. "I'm a purist -- my women generally wear less." Like what? A brown paper bag?" Was he nuts? "Y'all are probably.