I flat out refused, I was a fucking guy for fucks sake, But he just calmly told me I wouldn't be allowed to spray my juice until I agreed. He stayed ...vernight to make sure, and I crumbled, my resistance lasting only a day. This morning, after shooting his junk down my throat, he bent me over, his hand on by broad back, and I went down passively, like a fucking Pavlov dog. He has me trained I guess. But I'm a fucking virgin straight man for fuck's sake, I don't want some chick seeing a. I motioned for the painter to come over, and -- like a zombie -- he did. I looked at Emily, my sweet, innocent wife, and asked her if she liked what she had seen. "I saw you staring at the painter's junk," I teased. "Would you like to see it?"Emily's eyes grew wider. She shook her head back and forth. "Of course not," she murmured; "I wasn't looking at anything."But her actions said otherwise. By this time, I would have expected Emily to have slapped me, slapped the painter, and stormed out of. More

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