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Her Master allows another role play.

Most of the time, however, he did take a walk to quell his disappointment, leaving his wife to her own vices.

Hey! The alternatives weren't bad at all!

Ron Williams had it all figured out.


When he slipped back through those wooden gates into his own safe haven that particular Saturday night nothing was different for Ron. An especially wonderful exhibition by the couple next door was followed by a slow fuck from his own wife who had once again had her flames stoked from her own fingers.

Life was good. Tomorrow was Sunday. Golf!!

At three in the afternoon the following day, after he threw his golf clubs into the trunk of his car, he was surprised to open his door and find a flat envelope lying on his car seat. He quickly glanced at his window. He had left it down just a little to allow the heat to escape. Although safely locked, it surely allowed enough space for something to be slipped through the narrow opening.

He opened it carefully.

A disk of some sort.

And a note written on the sleeve.

"Your turn."

That's all.

"Your turn."

Ron looked at it for a long time. It was obviously a joke or a mistake.

As he drove home he kept glancing at it. Was it for his DVD player...a video of some sort. He smiled. Probably some trick from one of his buddies to get him involved in some pyramid scheme of some sort. They never give up!

One more glance. Maybe not. Maybe it's for a computer. That's dangerous. It might set a virus loose in his computer.

When he got home Rhonda was still at the movies with a friend. Here goes nothing.

He slipped it into his DVD player and waited for the results.


No doubt it was for a computer.

Better safe than sorry. He tossed it into the garbage can in the garage.

It wasn't that easy. It took almost nine hours but he relented. The little disk lying innocently in his trash was a beacon that he could no longer ignore.

"Your turn."

The house was quiet. There had been no forage into his neighbor's yard that night, no show put on by either Sheila or Rhonda.

He'd take his chances.

He slid it in.

It loaded.


The first time he went through it in fifteen minutes, rapidly clicking in disbelief at what he was seeing!

The second time it took over an hour.

Sweat poured off Ron Williams like a light rain.

Photos. Lots of them.

Very obviously taken with a camera adapted with night vision, there was no doubt the subject. And the activities.

Picture after picture, an unknowing Ron Williams was posing with cock in hand, sometimes standing outside his neighbors window peering in. At others, they clearly showed his anguished face from the inside out as it was peering into his neighbor's window.

It couldn't be denied. There were objects, references. Anybody could tell exactly from where the pictures were taken and exactly where he had been standing.

The outside pictures were taken from the vicinity of a small shed in the Long's back yard. He had carelessly stood outside their bedroom picture and allowed himself to be photographed in the illicit position from mere feet away.

But there were others. As he visualized the angle, he realized that Eric had obviously stood in their bedroom closet with the door slightly opened and shot Ron through the open window, his face in an exaggerated pose from the excitement that Sheila invoked as she rubbed herself. At times, there was even part of her exposed body included, her fingers foraging her crotch.


That's all he could think.


For the rest of the night, he couldn't move. Time after time he scrolled through the telling photos. They couldn't be denied. "A picture is worth a thousand words." These were millions.

"Your turn."

"Your turn."

What could it mean?

He would find out.


After a totally nonproductive day at work Ron walked to his car.

A small note was under his windshield wiper.

"Check your mail before she does."

Nothing else.

Ominous. A threat? Maybe a warning? Maybe just a heads up?

It was easy enough.

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