I can only imagine her comfort because she does not allow me, like other husbands, to enjoy the "rights" of the husband. On this cold November night she has decided that I am to sleep in the "bitch cage". A cage placed under the basement stairs. Her decision on where I sleep, like most of her decisions regarding my level of discomfort, seems to be purely arbitrary; a fleeting whim that I must endure long after she has forgotten my existence.My night is spent not so much in restful sleep nor even fitful consciousness, but rather in constant transition from stark awareness of my current situation to periods of semi-consciousness. My semi-consciousness constantly broken by the searing pain in my cramped legs, or my body shivering violently as it struggles in vain to fend off the cold. The numbness in my arms or agonizing stiffness in my neck force me to perform the arduous task of rolling over, a task I wait to perform until the pain becomes truly unbearable. I'm not sure how long I toil. John was close to climaxing and he could tell that Natalie was almost there too. I did not hear Natalie’s scream over the roar of the crowd, but could tell that she had just erupted into a raging orgasm. John had shot his load all over Natalie’s face and had collapsed into a big, happy heap onto the beach lounge with the two girls on top of him. The crowd erupted into a huge round of applause with whistles and cheers, and it was then that John recalled where he was. In front of me, one of the guys was still lapping at Allie’s pussy, while the other had begun tugging himself in front of her mouth. Allie parted her legs further and invited the guy to insert a finger into her and stuck out her tongue to lick the cock of the guy in front of her. She looked over to me and mouthed the words, “I’m about to cum." I smiled at her and kept a watchful eye on what the two guys were doing. I wanted so badly just to throw myself on top of her and fuck her, but I did not want to disrupt the.
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