" You're pushing me again, Joyce. You and Mama both. The more you do it, the less chance you have of ending up with what you want. In about one more m...nute, I'm going to just tell you to forget this thing with Brenda. If I get mad enough about this, you can also forget about us going off to college together." I don't control Mama, Kenny. You're getting mad at me for something she did. Something I asked her not to do. We weren't trying to get you upset, but we need to know what she's going to do. I massaged all over there except her boobs.After massaging there about 10 mins, I asked her wheather she need massage on her foot. She said it will be good if I do that. Then I moved to her other side and sat on the bed. I inserted my fingers between her toes and slowly pressed them. Then I took her leg and kept her foot on my thighs and slowly moved my hands above her feet and started pressing her calf muscles and slowly moved to her knee.I was hesitant to proceed above that. Then she lift her. Hesmiled at me and winked and I saw the front of his pants tented outby a large bulge. I guessed he had what black men are renowned for,a big, big cock. Strangely enough, I got a hard on watching himeyeing up my wife so openly. The thought of him having her soonbegan to enter my mind. One evening after I’d watched him rubbing himself whileogling Christi, I went to the bathroom and wanked off while conjuringup visions of him jerking off over my wife and picturing him slippinghis long,. .but I couldn't find the words. How could I beg to be fucked harder and to stop at the same time? Was it weaker to give into the voice of conscience I wasn't even sure was mine? Or was it weaker to give into my basest desires and eagerly accept my role as a fuck pig? Honestly if I could have done one or the other, I wouldn't have cared. It was being caught in the maelstrom I couldn't endure, but even though it was unbearable, all I could do was wait for it to end.Time was always a tricky thing.