Minutes later she came home and entered my room with a duffel bag. She ran to my arms, blubbering happily as she kissed me, making me tell her again a...d again that I wasn’t mad at her. She told me over and over how much she hated yelling at me, but she had done it all for me. I eventually asked her what was in the duffel bag and she smiled wickedly. Reaching in, she produced a lock and then locked my cuffs. “Only I have the key,” she grinned and kissed me. “Now remember, no talking.” She went. That’s when she met her husband. He was one of the photo crew for the producer who employed her the most often and he’d asked her to dinner one especially nice day after an oceanside picture shoot. He’d treated her like a person and hadn’t expected to fuck in exchange for the meal. Her pussy was sore anyway. She didn’t have a boyfriend at the time so the male models’ oversized dicks were the only and rather intermittent exercise it got.He asked her for a regular date and she did invite him “in”. More

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