“Open your knees wider” He ordered.I was still kneeling and did as He asked. He used His foot to rub my open pussy, coating the top of His foot with my juices.“Nice and wet, I see” He said, seeming pleased. “Put your new toy into that pretty white-girl cunt of yours.”I had assumed that it was designed to go into my ass, but I didn’t want to question Him. Also, where He had always been very polite and well-spoken, this primal “white-girl” reference had me very excited. I rubbed the cold steel against my opened and easily slid it inside of myself.“Now” He said, “Hand it to Me.”Again, I did as He said, removing the wet plug and handing it to Him.“Now,” He said slowly, “Bend over and lick My foot clean of your cunt-drool.”His directness and use of ‘that word’ startled me, yet I bent over and began taking long, slow swipes of the top of His foot, tasting myself and He leaned over and using my own juice as lube, worked the butt plug into my ass. I groaned out and continued licking His foot.. I wasn't going to win this argument, so I didn't bother to try, and we both pretended to sleep in silence.Naturally, she 'worked' most of Saturday and half of Sunday too. This put my suspicious and cynical side right up on edge and I decided to do a little snooping around the house. I didn't discover much, but I did notice that Wanda was now hand-washing her underwear in the bathroom sink and not putting them in with the rest of the laundry as she had used to do. That bumped my 'affair' suspicion gland up another full notch or two.I tried to hold a serious talk with her Sunday morning but she was not at all in the mood to hear anything I had to say. I did get in a loud, unsubtle hint that I thought she was spending way too much time away from home and she needed to decide 'where she lived and whom she lived with'. I didn't quite get in the last word (I never did), but I could tell I had hit upon a sore point when she suddenly began to look rather guilty.This wasn't quite a debate win.
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