The sheets and pillowcases were crisply white, and there was a gailystriped blanket folded at the bottom of the mattress. Old-fashionedbrass made up t...e head and footboards, and my wife-Mistress fastened myarms by the wrists to posts at opposite ends of the head. She pulled myhot pants down and off my feet, leaving my knee socks in place, and mycock sprung up, hard and eager. I turned my head briefly and saw thesunlight through the open window, felt the breeze that ruffled thecurtains, heard. My own penis, which Kate had been demurely tied back with a white satin ribbon, strained to achieve an erect state. I wanted desperately to free it, or better still, to have one of my assaulters free it for me. Instead, I managed an orgasm the usual way: a long slow leakage that never seemed to properly end, but kept building and ebbing, building and ebbing. I felt it building now, and at the same time my sphincter massaged the 10-inch hose in my ass so that the man attached to it grunted and. Again, to give him credit, he didn’t bring them home. He was obviously going to their place for his salacious pleasure. As his extra-marital affairs increased, so my share of his body went into decline. For a somewhat libidinous young woman this proved a burden very hard to bear. It became worse when, I suppose as a sort of punishment for my deception, he started to boast to me about his latest conquests. The first time he did that was after he came back from a week long academic conference and. I put the remains in the frig and began to make my late night moves. Jolene said she was too tired and was going to bed. I sat there watching TV until way too late wondering just what had happened while I was away. I never asked, Jolene never said – but I never did anything stupid like that again. Did I mention that Jolene was a singer? That’s why she was in the bar that night we met. She sang and played guitar, wrote most of her stuff. She did some covers of Patsy Kline songs that would leave.