Emotionally though, the beginning had been predictably shaky. From the outset it was obvious that, whatever he said aloud, inside my husband no longer...had the trust in me that had characterised the previous twenty-plus years of our marriage.Although he never said as much, this mistrust manifested itself in many little ways. For example, Pete would ask me about my day and my plans in much more detail than before; he would look at my diary more often ‘to make sure his was up to date’. I even. I looked at Billy’s cock in front of me and saw that it was coated with my shit. I looked up and looked him in his eyes. He looked down and grinned, “You’re going to clean me right up, aren’t you?” I looked back down at his dirty shit-caked cock and opened my mouth. As dirty and low and ashamed as I felt, I wanted to do this. The confusion in my mind was immense as I licked my own shit from Billy’s dick. How was it possible that I was getting off on this? I had read about slave girls and such. More

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