On Thursday morning, after Luke left early for work and Brooke went for a run, I removed from Brooke’s closet the the gossamer jacket I had worn to the Ren fair and put it into the trunk of my Prius along with the canvas shoes and white tights that had completed my humiliating “Little Foot
I have never been good with my hands. I took after my father in that respect. I was that kid who could never hold a nail steady, who was never able to catch a ball in little league (or hit a ball with a bat for that matter), who could never figure out how to
My studies under Luke’s tutelage began in earnest the next evening during and after dinner. I’m sorry to report that he proved to be an excellent, possibly even world class instructor. If there was a graduate program in cuckold humiliation studies, Luke would’ve been a distinguished professor with an endowed chair. To be fair, I