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A husband hear and witness the rape of his beautiful wife.

"But I don't want to be locked up" Dad would whine. "It's been a month and a half since I got to have a 'wettie', and I had to stimulate myself-"

Mother's low tones, trying to be sweet and consistent..."Spivey, don't give me a hard time dear. Go and fetch the chastity device. I really don't want to have you give me a tantrum-"

"But it's not FAIR" Dad's voice came again, sounding oddly like me when Mother wouldn't buy me a model airplane. "I just don't think it's-"

And then Mother picked up the cane and whacked it across Dad's cock and balls and he screamed shrilly, so shrilly that I almost fell through the door. "Now Spivey, are you going to go and get me the chastity device, or are you going back over the armrest? I was thinking of letting you jerk yourself to a wettie next Monday, but with your attitude, I may have to wait until Christmas!"

There was a good deal of unfairness to Dad on Mother's part, I always thought. I remember tiptoeing by their room in the middle of the night, on my way to the toilet, and hearing a strange voice in Mother's room.

I was able to peek through the doorway, and there Mother was with Francois our gardener, rolling around in her bed! Dad, astonishingly, was kneeling by the side of the bed in his chastity device, looking rather sad.

I watched in horror as Francois, who was big and burly, but not overly bright, would hammer Mother with his big cock, and I listened to her moan in pleasure, trying to keep her hand in her mouth to keep from waking us children, I guess.

"Spivey, don't look so depressed." Mother called over to Dad, who was frankly on the verge of tears. "You know you're not up to this...you might as well just accept that Francois is so much better for me! And of course you're going to have to give him a raise."

Francois was a French-Canadian who had been transplanted to Greensboro some years back, and he wasn't much of a gardener. He spent a lot of time sitting in the zinnias drinking schnapps, but now I understood why Mother wouldn't let Dad fire him.

Apparently, Francois was good at planting the seeds that Mother especially needed!

"Spivey, Francois needs a bit of stimulation" Mother said next. "He is a bit exhausted since he's been giving it to me for nearly an hour. Why don't you stimulate his anus with your tongue."

At this I almost fell through the door. What kind of depraved pervert was my mother? And would my father go for this? He had to stand up for himself. Come on, Dad.

My dad just looked at Mother from his kneeling position. "I just-I can't put my tongue in his smelly rear end, Earline." Dad begged. "P-please don't make me-"

Francois jumped off the bed and grabbed Dad by his left ear, and whacked him in the face with his other hand. "You weel do what Meesees Maher says, you fat cochon you...or I will beat you weeth my belt!"

Then Francois got back on the bed and spread his cheeks and looked back at my Dad threateningly. And Dad sighed and crawled on the bed and began reluctantly tonguing Francois's anus, and soon the French-Canadian gardener, worthless as he was, began hammering Mother once again.

When I went out to get drunk that night, I wondered if I was losing my mind!

Of course the other issue, which was even more embarrassing, was how Francois and Mother sent Dad out dressed in drag to pick up men. Sometimes my pals and I would be cruising the Greensboro red-light district in Tommy DeHoya's '83 Audi on a Saturday night, looking to buy some pot, and we'd pass the corner where the hookers were...

And there, among the ladies of the night, would be my Dad, who would be done up in a fake beehive wig, grotesque makeup and press-on nails, and a ludicrous gold lame dress that made him look like a Sold Gold transvestite dancer (that's an old reference).

"Dig that ugly cow!" Tommy would laugh, and the other guys would hoot and scream at poor Dad, and I'd just blush and be quiet. I wondered if they might note the family resemblance, but thankfully, that never happened.

Then late at night, I'd be in bed, having gotten

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