“Okay, sir.”“I have made a decision,” Jen shouted, “from now on; you don’t get to see my breasts on a Saturday evening.”“I don’t, wh...?” I asked.“I don’t like you seeing my breasts,” Jen replied, “so from now on you won’t, okay?”“Yes Jen, I understand.”“Only my husband and lovers should see my breasts!” Jen shouted as I opened the bedroom door to leave.“Okay Jen, I am just the cuckold husband, aren’t I?”“Exactly!” Damien shouted, “Goodnight cuck.”I went to bed feeling very happy indeed, I was,. While looking at him in the kitchen, I moved the back of her shirt up a little more to her neck and smiled I now was rubbing her bare back with harder and longer moves that kept her shirt moving up a little more by the minute. Her tits moved a lot and the headlights were really on now. The more I worked her shoulders the higher her shirt in front went up. I know how to make her like the massage, and I did it all so perfectly she would not tell me to stop. (That is all she has to do is say stop). RB removed her trench coat and put her suitcase on in the corner of the kitchen. She had told friends not to expect to see her until Monday. She headed for the bedroom and as she opened the door she was quiet. How in the world had Miss F gotten loose? What had happened to her clothes? How did she get that hood over her head? -- As RB took two steps forward, the bedroom door slammed shut behind her with a "WHAM". She turned around to see this hulk of a muscular figure in tight leather pants, no. Even the cleaning staff were gone for the night.And so The Professor sat, and waited. And waited some more. FInally, closer to 10 o’clock, there was a sharp knock on the door. He called out to Addie and told her to come in and sit down. She glided in gracefully, settling down into the straight back chair sitting in front of his desk. Reaching into her large handbag that probably cost more than The Professor made in a month, she pulled out a large manila envelope and a pen.Her long, flowing hair.
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