What you are about to read is based upon a true story, as told by a Grateful Reader who has lived a life very close to the one you will soon come to know. Names have been changed, and some scenarios constructed, but the story is essentially as it was related.
Prologue:
To see Sally Sorrento today, you would barely guess at the fathomless depths through which her life has been drawn. Now aged 43 years, she is a successful career woman, a buyer in women's fashion for a major Southwestern department store. She is married, no children, and lives in a secluded neighborhood in Southern California. She dresses immaculately, and conservatively, she carries herself with a quiet, pleasant air, and she gets along with her co-workers, although she generally keeps to herself. She seems, to all outward appearance, like a modest woman of upper-middle class status.
Her looks reinforce that perception. Except for endless restyling of her short, golden blonde hair, Sally hasn't changed significantly since she matured into a full-bodied woman around the age of 16. Sally has the kind of understated beauty that you don't notice if you just pass her on the street. But if you do take notice of her, you will always go back for a second look, and then you notice that everything about her fits perfectly.
She's not tall, nor short, standing about 5-6, and slender, the result of a metabolism that allows her to eat what she wants without gaining weight. She does watch what she eats, though, and does some exercises in the mornings and light aerobics during lunch at the health club that is one of the benefits her company offers. Her facial features are somewhat narrow, with evenly spaced blue eyes, and her breasts and hips are perfectly proportioned, just enough to hold onto, without being showy, and her legs are tapered just right all the way down to her small, narrow feet.
But looks are sometimes deceiving, and they certainly deceive in Sally's case. For under that conservative exterior is a woman with a secret life, or at least it's secret from those who know her professionally and socially. Away from work and her quiet neighborhood, Sally becomes someone altogether different from the cool, conservative businesswoman in a dark suit that she presents to the public.
Sally's eyes offer a clue to the person inside. They are luminous, expressive orbs that hint of innocence lost and never regained, eyes that have seen much of the world and of life, not all of it good. And there is something else in those eyes, a bare reflection of an inner fire that burns white-hot at certain moments in her life, when she sheds her proper outer shell and enters her secret world. The eyes are the window to the soul, and thus Sally tries to keep her eyes obscured as much as possible, wearing shades whenever possible outdoors, and lightly-tinted, black-framed glasses when she's indoors, the better to shield her secret world from view.
Sally's secret world is one of hunger, a hunger for sex that no one man - or woman - can ever satisfy. For most of her adult life, since she was 18, she has been driven by her need for pleasure, and she has actively sought out the ways and means to indulge that need. It has gotten her in big trouble on more than one occasion. She went through a painful addiction to and rehabilitation from a variety of drugs, cocaine mostly, and alcohol.
There have been very few limits to what Sally will do when she succumbs to her hunger, which is just as strong now as it was 25 years ago. Whenever she is out of town on business, or on some weekends, usually about once or twice a month, Sally seeks that which will relieve her need for sex. Sometimes she is the huntress, seeking out her lovers, both new and old, and she has several lovers of very long standing scattered all over the country. Other times she is the prey, as she allows herself to be pursued by one or more persons for wild, uninhibited nights of passion, risking it all for one more gut-wrenching orgasm.
The reason Sally is now so successful professionally and socially, given her background, is because her husband, Sam, allows her to indulge herself in her secret sex life. Indeed, he encourages her to be as active as she wants, because he knows it makes her happy, and because it turns him on like nothing else.
Sometimes Sam participates in her activities, and on those occasions he revels in the sight of other men joining him with his wife. But more often he sits at home lustfully thinking about different men sticking their dicks in every one of Sally's horny holes. He waits eagerly for her to return, to his bed, and tell him all about it, in exquisite detail, and the sex they enjoy then is invariably stratospheric.
If she's been out on a weekend night, she will come in late, lie with him and give him the wonderful, frantic sensation of fucking her cream-filled pussy or ass. If she's just returned from a trip, they'll go through a little seduction ritual, spending hours preparing for and having hot, smoldering sex as she relates her actions on the road for the benefit of her husband.
Sally long ago lost count of how many different men she's fucked in her life, and there is no measuring how many gallons - yes, gallons - of cum have been shot in her, on her or just in her general direction over the years that she's been a slut.
But Sally wasn't always a slut, at least not outwardly. Rather, she was made that way, or perhaps her slut side was brought out, by a man who crossed her path when she was 15, and who took advantage of a youthful indiscretion to inexorably draw her into his steamy world of sex, addiction and control. He took an average, innocent young woman and turned her into his personal whore, changing her life forever. This is the story of how Sally became a tramp, and the man who made her that way, her stepfather, Ted Bissett.
Friday night
In mid-July of 1978, Sally Johnson had it all. She had just turned 18, had just graduated from high school and was headed off to UCLA in the fall.
Sally was the archetypical Southern California cutie from a beach town, her body bronzed and her waist-length blond hair shimmering like ripe winter wheat from a sun-drenched lifestyle. She currently had a boyfriend that she'd been dating a couple of months, but she wasn't sure where their relationship was headed. He was considering joining the army, and that didn't sit too well with Sally, but she wasn't going to sweat it. Even if he left, she figured she'd have her pick of any number of guys from the beach. Too bad, too, she'd been thinking about giving it up to him soon. He was cute, but if he was more interested in the military than her, then she wasn't going to go out of her way to entice him.
Before this particular guy, Sally had had three boyfriends, and she'd eventually gone all the way with each of them. But, they had all been fairly inexperienced, and sex with them had never produced the bells and whistles she'd always expected. She was an average teenager, and she had done her share of partying, nothing serious, but she knew how to have fun. But while she had the usual lusts and desires of a teenager coming of age in the late 1970s, sex with the boyfriends she'd had hadn't been anything more than mundane, and she had never been known as part of the really wild crowd at her high school.
It was different with one person, however, the person she was closer to than anyone in the world, her sister Sylvia, who was 15 going on 20.