The time for protest was long past. Whatever happened now, I knew I would have to accept. I was incapable of resistance. Incapable of imposing my own ...ill in opposition to my wife.After regarding me critically for a moment or two, Bernice handed me first the blouse then the skirt and again assisted me to fasten them properly around myself. The final transformation was startling. My image, in the dressing table mirror and the tall pier glass my wife used to assist her own dressing, was that of a. Then I saw the guy seating next to her in the sofa.He was huge, I mean he was real bodybuilder, tall as hell, all muscled filled with tattoos, real nasty figure. This was the most bizarre scene I could imagine. How could my classy mom being interested in this guy. I seemed like a damn skinhead biker or something. Catching their conversation, I realize he was the doorman of the nightclub. My mom, mature High School teacher dating a fucking bouncer. I almost cried. Then I start thinking that my. Lovely home cooked meal, Thai Beef Salad was one of his favourites good one there he thought. Nice red wine. The conversation had been lively and interesting. He had stolen several glances at Marianne, hopefully she hadn’t noticed. Her skirt had ridden a little high as they talked and when she gestured excitedly he could not resist looking into the shadows beneath. Hadn’t seen anything but God he had gotten a hard on and had to move quick to hide it. Marianne's top button on her blouse. When I took a small saucer and scooped up the fluids from her own snatch to feed them to her, she moaned quite audibly in response. She also drank down even her own piss without any complaint.That was when I dealt the real trump card. I lifted her top just enough and stuck the nipple clamps on Lizzie's tits, which prompted a slow-building orgasm to peak and her full-throated cry of ecstasy to escape her lips. Brother George looked to Sister Wendy, since Lizzie was her responsibility, to get her.
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