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Forgive Us Our Debts: Bad Bet Gone Good
Coles
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Forgive Us Our Debts: Bad Bet Gone Good in Vernon, BC
By None
Current price: $4.00

Coles
Forgive Us Our Debts: Bad Bet Gone Good in Vernon, BC
By None
Current price: $4.00
Loading Inventory...
Size: Kobo eBook
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When Lee makes a bad bet, he must risk his marriage to make good with his bookie. Accompanied by his bookie and his muscle, he is forced to reveal the truth. Moira, his wife, calls his bet. As his beautiful, blonde wife rediscovers her desire for large men of color, her hapless husband discovers in himself his deep, cuckold desires.
Through the night, Lee, suffering passionately, watching his spouse service the two men in exchange for his safety and financial security.
'She clutched her robe tight with both hands. She felt the fire in her cheeks, aghast at what intimate sights the intruders had seen (and wouldn’t you like the owner of that last voice to intrude your wet depths, the thought flashed across her consciousness).
“Please don’t be mad, honey,” came a familiar, whining voice.”
She spotted him, half hidden, by a huge, beefy, and really very dangerously handsome, black man. She felt her knees quiver and a decided roundness in her heels. It had been years, but they fell away and she knew who he was. Even so, she looked daggers at her husband. “What the hell have you done to bring strangers into my house?”
“Honey—“
“Don’t honey me!” She continued to clutch her robe together. She glared at her husband and the two strangers who grinned at the situation.'
When Lee makes a bad bet, he must risk his marriage to make good with his bookie. Accompanied by his bookie and his muscle, he is forced to reveal the truth. Moira, his wife, calls his bet. As his beautiful, blonde wife rediscovers her desire for large men of color, her hapless husband discovers in himself his deep, cuckold desires.
Through the night, Lee, suffering passionately, watching his spouse service the two men in exchange for his safety and financial security.
'She clutched her robe tight with both hands. She felt the fire in her cheeks, aghast at what intimate sights the intruders had seen (and wouldn’t you like the owner of that last voice to intrude your wet depths, the thought flashed across her consciousness).
“Please don’t be mad, honey,” came a familiar, whining voice.”
She spotted him, half hidden, by a huge, beefy, and really very dangerously handsome, black man. She felt her knees quiver and a decided roundness in her heels. It had been years, but they fell away and she knew who he was. Even so, she looked daggers at her husband. “What the hell have you done to bring strangers into my house?”
“Honey—“
“Don’t honey me!” She continued to clutch her robe together. She glared at her husband and the two strangers who grinned at the situation.'


















