I directed Tom to turn around, while she changed to give us ladies some. She was the classic northern liberal, unsympathetic of my desire to stay closeted. I notice Tom discreetly glance toward the camera, winks to me, and then return his attention to encouraging the gagging teary-eyed cocksucker kneeling before him. You like it? He said he was taking shots of our pup for his grandparents. I reluctantly put them on and returned to the living room.
I zoomed in on her face to catch the mascara dripping down from her tearing eyes as she gagged on my husband. I left without interrupting, more humiliated by the dampness between my legs than my first cuckolding. She slips off the desk back down to her knees and at his signaling crawls over to clean his cock. I sat back and followed his finger to the object he was pointing at: the camera. No one was a lez or pervert and most importantly: what happened at camp stayed at camp. Wreck her pussy for me.
