Strippers were hanging off the table, two even three at a time, cuddling up to arms and wiggling in laps. They seemed to take particular delight in to...ing with me ... slyly groping beneath my panties or lifting my skirt as I took orders, patting my ass, even snapping my bra and once even honking (yes, honking) my breast.Now, my tolerance for obnoxiousness is pretty high. I won't begrudge a man a copped feel or a slap on the ass, and I suppose a snapped bra, however annoying and needless it may. ”“I wanted to watch,” I lied again. I wanted my wife to think I was her pathetic cuckold.“I wish you had!” she said, desperately clinging to the hope that we might work this out.“Was it good?” I asked, staring at her.“Dave, let’s not...” She started speaking, but I cut her off.“I need to know,” I said. “Was it good?”She hesitated, staring at me keenly, trying to measure my intention and guess my reaction.“It was incredible,” she admitted.“Would it have been as incredible if I had stayed?”She. More

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