A feminized basket ball player

“Jack . . I . . . ” “Oh don’t pretend you’re shy. You’re not shy on the telephone are you.” My wife retrieved her tape recorder and played a conversation of mine from a few months ago, a conversation I had had as Jack had cleaned the pool outside. I could hear my voice begging Misty to let me suck Jack, to have him use me like a whore, and fuck me like a girl.

“You see Jack, didn’t I tell you he was a little faggot whore. I bet you never knew all that time you played ball with him at the gym that he was just secretly hoping to fall to his knees and suck on that nice, long, hard cock of yours, did you? Come on over here, Jack, stand next to me for a second and just look at this little slut.” Jack walked over to my wife and she laced her arms around his neck. She made me turn over and lay on my back, so that Jack could take in the sight of me in my feminine bathing suit.

“Mrs. Ross. I don’t know what game you and your husband play, but I’m no faggot, and this whole scene is making me a little uncomfortable. I think I better go.” Jack said, trying to pull away from her. She did something then that I had never seen her do before. She kissed him long and passionately on the mouth, letting her hand fall to caress the growing bulge in his shorts. I of course had never seen my wife kiss another man intimately like that, and the sight of her doing it only added to my humiliation.