I finished the donut, the fantasy of my husband watching me lick food off my bod going through my noggin. I got a second donut and rubbed the chocolat... over my left nipple, getting it nice and messy. I took a bite, then squirted some of the creme over my right titty.I held my boobs together, forming a nice valley of cleavage and placed the donut right there. I tilted my head down and ate the sweet treat right off my own breasts. I got pretty messy in the process, but didn\'t care. I was getting. Their safety was quite a bit faster than the one from last week, and had an angle to knock Mike out of bounds. “Run straight ahead and don’t look over!” I yelled, as normally the runner would check what was coming from the side. I made sure that I was between the safety and Mike, so when he ran into me at the 10 yard line, for him it was like running into a brick wall at full speed. While we could hear the sound his pads made when they hit me, no one else could, over the screaming of our fans.A. As fierce as it was, it would end soon.I was wrong.Manuel was a stallion. The harder he pounded me, the more excited he seemed to become. I had the feeling that he was watching his prick sliding back and forth between my wide-stretched anus, getting off psychologically as well as sexually on the assault he was committing against my impaled buttocks. It seemed clear to me that he was as enamored of his own strength, virility, and machismo as he was of my naked helplessness. He rammed his cock. Even if my reaction to it was equally baffling.Since when had I become interested in feet?And, moreover: a foot resting below such an unprepossessing visage. Switching my thoughts away from this new development, I was grateful Vera seemed to be okay with her presence there. More than okay, it appeared.Even more mystifying to me than my sudden foot fetish was my wife’s apparent enjoyment of our hostesses company and –more mystifying than that even- the company of her unsmiling, with me.