A feminized basket ball player

“Therapeutic process!” My wife cackled from behind me, sliding the door to the house behind her. ” The only therapy this faggot needs is the kind that would convince him of his proper role in life. Jack, do you know what his proper role is, do you know what my pathetic little excuse for a husband really is?”
“N . . no Mrs. Ross.” Jack answered.
“My husband is a little, sissy, faggot slut, and the only thing he likes better than sticking his girly ass in the air, is having it filled by a nice, big, hard cock. Isn’t that right Alex?” She demanded of me. I said nothing.
“Isn’t that right!” She said, slapping my ass and taking another picture.
“Yes.” I replied, almost in a whisper. Jack was giggling nervously now.
“Tell the nice young man what you are. Say it!”
“I am a little, sissy, faggot, slut.” I said, humiliated, but utterly aroused.
“That’s right you whore. Jack, see his little cock, see how hard he is getting? Bitch, what’s your favorite thing to play with?” I knew what my answer was supposed to be and from my wife’s tone, there was no way I could avoid saying it.
“My favorite thing to play with is a big, hard, cock.” I said.
“You see Jack. You see what a little faggot he is. He’s practically begging you to fuck him like a whore, aren’t you slut? Go, on, beg Jack. Tell Jack how bad you want his cock.” The funny thing about the situation was that I really did want Jack’s cock. I was so enormously aroused, laid out like that, my ass in the air, the sun burning bikini tan lines onto my body, my wife humiliating me, and this big, strong man witnessing the whole event.