She was the oak tree, I a mistletoe parasite, clinging in her branches. It was, a symbiotic relationship, my esteem enhanced by association with her w...alth, she enhanced with me as an ornament.After her abortion, divorce, childlessness; my marriage, children, grandchildren, hubby’s successful business, our relationship shifted. I was the oak, she the ornament.Yet what had I done? I retained my proclivity to insert hidden declarations of superiority. My arrows of bravado remained. I’d concealed. Silas' piggish eyes widened in recognition.The girl had picked exactly the wrong time to warm up the man's coffee at the table next to the door. Silas snatched her up in front of him and he was coming out with his own gun as Jim drew his Colts! "I'll kill her, Horn!"Silas yelled. He had the girl clutched to his chest like he was a big ugly child with a pretty, fragile doll. She had started screaming desperately and she'd dropped the coffeepot when Silas' arm had encircled her and he'd yanked. The more I looked around the more interested I became. This web site was dedicated to black men, and white wives cuckolding white husbands. There were fictional short stories, and true confessions by the members, and many of the latter were even illustrated. As it turned out, anyone could place their own advertisements on the site, and receive e-mail responses from those in their area that they were interested in. I could even add pictures of myself with the post if I wanted to, raunchy, or. But I gotta ask, John, what do you get out of all of this? I’m pretty sure I can make your wife happy; I still have some moves, even at 65, but I don’t think I can service a man. Nothing wrong with that, mind you, but I don’t have the natural inclination to touch you and I’d hate to disappoint you there.”John smiled, “You don’t have to worry, Sam, I don’t swing that way either, most of the time. I’ve been known to play along if the partner I have chosen wants a little three-way action and if.