His dad ran his hands across his body. They roamed from his chest, stopping a bit to run his thumb across his nipples, down to his stomach, then lower... hovering just above his now half hard cock. Then his father skipped over it, running down his thighs. Clara’s dad crouched down, his face level with his son’s crotch as he soaped up his son’s calves and the feet. He got up suddenly. “Turn around,” he ordered. Nick turned with his back to his father, who grabbed more soap. He ran his hands over. "It looks like somebody not only likes beingdressed girly, and staying shaved smooth all over, but also enjoysworking for me like a domestic servant. I might have to get you amaid's outfit, Ira. Or should I call you... hmmm... Irene? Inez? Orhow about Ima? First name Ima, last name Pansy."That suggestion was so upsetting that my lips quivered and I sniffled.My wife saw that and reached out to pat the side of my face. She madecooing sounds, then told me to resume what I had been doing, and. Every trip to the barn he fucked me and afterwards I sucked his cock and balls and licked his ass. "Show me that pink pussy slut." he would tell me as we drove in the truck. "Spread that cunt for your uncle." Soon the men were taking turns to go by the truck to see what we were doing. My uncle seemed pleased to have me on display.When the day was over and we got to the house he took me to the bathroom to shower. We both got in together. He soaped every inch of my body and rinsed me off then. When our relationship continued to slowly chill down, I couldn't resist thinking that as several of her friends had cheated on their husbands, so why shouldn't Rebecka try to do that.But my observations gave no clues. She didn't begin to dress any sexier, used no extra make up, had no extra overtime, scheduled no extra "girls' nights out", had no strange phone calls, nothing unusual at all. I thought that she must be clever as hell to avoid all usual signs of cheating.It was with a really sad.