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Faith shook her head in protest. She meant to tell Boyd that he was wrong. However, she had no chance for words, for both her husband's hands grabbed into her hair and jerked her face toward his genitals. She had no choice but to allow her lips to be drawn to his glans, there to be moved slowly from side to side as he rocked her head painfully back and forth. "Kiss it," he ordered, holding her head still at last, with the weeping eye of his cock part way between her soft lips. Whimpering at the pain in her scalp, her mind reeling at the unspeakable indignity being forced on her by her own husband, Faith timidly pursed her lips and smacked a weak kiss around the tip of his glans. "Again," she heard him bark. As her lips pursed for the second time, she felt his cock slip through them and poke at her teeth. His musky-tasting glans pressed harder and he held her hair in trembling hands. "Open your mouth, Faith," his voice said, as if from afar. It was no use fighting against it. He only. He has to see if he is good enough to get the treasure. He starts off with a subtle nod from a distance. He approaches me slowly, and he has to ward off all the other suitors I have. He knows he's good, he has a wicket tongue, and he has the intellectual seduction to make me his. When he finally gets to me, he talks to me, comments on my subtly exposed garter, he is seducing me with his words, and he is running his fingers along my garter. He is running his hand slowly up my skirt and he can feel my wetness. He runs his wine glass along the outline of my breast. We spend the next hours slow dancing and sipping on wine. He discreetly ever so gently plays with my brests through my silk shirt, keeping my titties so very taut and hard. He kisses me with the equality of the goodbye warkiss in Cold Mountain. His seduction is almost complete, I give in, I ask him if we can leave. He smiles with victory in his eyes, and he kisses me one last time and tells me no, I have to wait for him. I.
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