They of course were only dancing with the black men.When the white women were not dancing they were entertaining black men in front of their spouses.I...go to sit down but Cheryl told me not there. She picked a spot a little more private.I order us our drinks. Sure enough a couple of black guys came over to dance with my wife. She told those two no. I looked at her and whispered “average shoes”? And she nodded yes.While my wife was sizing up shoes and crotches I was letting my photographer eyes. And if ever my guilt got up to storm force two or three, I just did a whack-a-mole job on it by telling myself there was every chance Jill had allowed herself to be fucked by her two lovers many times over during our temporary separation.But even armed with my whack-a-mole moral mallet, by mid-morning Sunday I was feeling decidedly guilty, not to mention emotional and sexually fed, and so I gave Veronica a tender and emotional kiss and finally dragged myself back to my lonely motel. “Are you fucking k**ding me? I would fuck her mouth and suck on those big titties!” he said excitedly. He asked the k** if he would be staying through the dinner service or if he had to return soon. “Well you guys have the VIP suite, so dinner service is included” he happily replied.“Then have at it, once you’re done setting up, just don’t cum in her mouth!” my Master told him, “think of her as your tip.” With that Master told me to return to the coffee table but to remain in the same. Morgan.”“He’s been dead for a long time,” Peter said somewhat amused by the answer.“I know. He was the one who killed cheap energy when Tesla brought him the idea. His mindset dominates the energy market to this day. He was an asshole.”“I take it you disagree with him.”“Definitely.”“The government says that it wants people to buy solar panels and windmills.”“Everyone says that they want every house to be energy independent, but they’re lying through their dirty rotten teeth. If you can produce.