’ As I sat there, she noticed the look of humiliation on my face, and tells me ‘You know this is all your fault, Jim.’ ‘My fault??? How do yo... figure that, Cathy?’ ‘Who’s the one who brought up the fantasy of seeing me fuck other men? Men with big cocks? Then as time went by, black men with big cocks? At first I had no interest, and then after time it got me a little hot. A couple of weeks ago I was in our back yard and I heard Thomas talking on his cell phone in his back yard. I peeked. At the same time, she has a shiver run down her back. Actually it is several of them that run down to a little pool of heat filling her crotch.“It occurs to me,” he continues, speaking softly, “that you need to be punished regardless of you being good or not. So why don’t you go ahead and bend over that nice fat arm of the chair. We’ll dispense with the argument over whether you were playing with yourself or not.”Tabitha finds herself looking at the chair. How did I not notice it before? It is. Receding hair, kind of short, very red faced. His tie is flapping and he doesn’t have any shoes on. In less time than it takes for a celebrity’s death to travel across the internet, I know that this is the husband. He’s here to fight for his woman, and he took his fucking shoes off so I wouldn’t hear him approach. He has big arms, and rage-wide eyes. And that fucking baseball bat! ‘Oh, shit!’ I push Mrs. Married out of the way. I don’t know why. I don’t doubt for a fucking minute that this is. "Here, smoke a little. C'mon." She held the hand- rolled cigarette to Chris's lips; first the blonde turned away, but then when it was obvious that Sandy would persist, she reluctantly took one tiny puff. A tingle of warmth followed the sweet-smelling smoke down her throat and along the nerve channels of her body; just the one puff was enough to bring a wave of relaxation to her excited body. She felt her mind loosen as if obeying some secret command; another, deeper drag followed, then still.