Since I never caught on, I guess she felt she could continue, and I would be none the wiser.It pained me deeply that she had just thrown me to the way...ide; it was like she was dumping week old garbage into the can. I was like that to her. Somehow she lost her respect for me and our marriage, and she turned against me. I'm sure that there was still some love for me, or we would not be having sex so often, but that intimacy was now gone for me, circling the drain just like our marriage. God I'm. John wisely stayed away from my cock's head; that would have made me explode immediately. I wanted to put my hands on his head, move my fingers through his thick hair. But I didn't want to move, I wanted his blow job to last as long as possible. He started to bob his head slowly over my cock. I moaned loudly. Saliva was dripping down my shaft to my balls. It tickled nicely. I started making surprisingly feminine sounds as my cock was being handled with never before experienced professionalism.. Being used like a drink dispenser made her more wet than any amount of self-milking ever could, and she felt disappointed when the hands only gave her a single pull, though her breast felt more comfortable without being stuffed to capacity. While her nipples were still tingling and wet from her mild milking, Jennifer felt the first touch of pain at the hands of the strangers. The leather tip of a riding crop snapped against her nipple without warning, the sharp biting sensation of its impact. I did drop a big bombshell on her that day. So Jeanette and I consoled her. We sat down on the bed and we both hugged her. “Don't worry, shit happens mom. I still love you and you love me,” I said. We both hugged her really tightly and shed a couple tears ourselves. “And I love you both,” Jeanette said as got in on our hug. Then we all laughed a little and then John got home. “Where's the bride to be?” John asked from the hallway. “Wait he can't come in here. She is in the dress,” Christina.