your wife, Star Nine, is sitting at the dining table pouring over stacks of paperwork. She'd asked you to get the annual expenses together for your accountant but you hadn't gotten around to it yet. Not wanting a repeat of last year, where you were charged an extra rush fee, she's taken it upon herself to get the accounts in order.<br><br>She asks you about a charge to "Legs Inc" - it appears over and over on your credit card statement and she knows you aren't going through that many socks. You try to mumble an excuse, but she's already been to the website.<br><br>It all makes sense now, really. You looking at those photos of long legs in pantyhose, looking up at the women from their feet. Star gets out of her chair and poses in front of you, her ass propped on the dining table. She pushes you down to the ground, she wants you to get the view you crave.<br><br>She gets it, you aren't alpha. It's too late, you've been married too long, she's too invested to leave you now, find a real al

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