My Adventure

It seemed I had more things to do than time to do them. I was always rushing here and there and never was able to give 100% to anything. Well, except work. Working at a bookstore occupies all of your time. You replace books placed out of order by customers, ring sales, look up inquiries on the computer, stock shelves, take inventory, do special orders and a host of other chores.

I realized, at some point, that the difference was that the store was well organized. Projects and objectives were clearly defined. What needed done got done before the store closed, and rarely did today's tasks spill over into the next day. I knew there were lessons there to be learned.

That night, I cooked a special meal. I wore just an apron. My conditioning had come full circle. I no longer concerned myself with being on display. I wore my naked self boldly, unflinching even with strangers. I didn't even tighten up when touched. It wasn't just being fed from dog bowls. I actually felt like the family pet. Whatever my family, and my extended family wanted to do to me, I accepted with pleasure at serving.

My nipples were tweaked, pulled on, bit and twisted. Rough hands would maul my breasts, fingers would penetrate my pussy and my ass was grabbed, smacked and whipped. I would be moved this way and that to accommodate any demand, pressed to my knees, bent over a table or chair, sat on a counter with my legs spread wide apart. I opened myself to anyone, anywhere, on demand. This, of course, was by permission of the family, and they used their power over me a lot.

I actually loved this life. I was free. If you had told a younger me that I would turn out this way, you'd have faced a battle. I was a conservative housewife, working a part time job, raising kids, drinking a little wine and opening my legs for my husband every now and then, more to keep him from looking elsewhere than to satisfy any needs, his or my own.

April was as hard on me as the others, but I knew she had a soft spot. I asked for, and got, permission to speak freely. She led me out to the back yard. The wood bench was rough against my naked ass, and my tits were nearly on the table as I leaned forward. "I want to do better. I want to get organized."

The words spilled out. I was tearful in explaining that I didn't think I'd be able to get there on my own. I needed help. "You realize you'll never regain your position in the family." I don't know what I expected, but April's words shook me. My voice was meek as I answered that I understood. I was the slave. I had no right to ask to rise above my station. Still, I wanted to earn some small concessions, and I didn't think I could get there on my own.

"Let me think about this." She stood and pulled her skirt up to her waist. April held out her hand. I flashed uncomprehending for a second. I had nothing to give her. Then I realized I did. I took off my apron and handed it to her. She folded it and put it on the wooden bench, sat on it and spread her legs. I crawled under the table, naked, and went tongue first into my middle daughter's lips.

I spread her lips open with my thumbs. I licked her inner lips up and down before flicking my tongue over her clit. I slid a finger in her pussy and then two. I finger fucked her and licked her clit over and over, tasting her growing wetness. "Harder." The word came out in a gasp. Seconds later, orgasm washed over her and onto my tongue. April pulled me up by the ring on my collar and kissed me hard.

As I cleaned up after dinner, I heard low voices in the living room. Sam came in and walked right past me. He went into the living room. I heard just a few words of the exchange and he came back out into the kitchen. Sam pulled out a chair and sat down. After a few seconds of fumbling, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. He pointed at his lap and I scrambled over to him.

God, I wanted that cock so bad. I was touching him everywhere. My lips and tongue kissed, licked and sucked his cock and balls. I really wanted him inside me, but I had to satisfy my urges with just having him in my mouth. I wanted to taste him, feel him release in my mouth. The taste of girls is nice, but I wanted the man juice. I hadn't been used by a man in a while, and it was longer, a few weeks at least, since I felt a hard cock opening me up and using me.

Get someone used to something, then take it away. The denial is a pretty good punishment, especially if they are finding other outlets for the activity, and you are not invited. Every time the door between the kitchen and living room opened, I would peek to see what was going on. My daughters were always entertaining it seemed, inviting mouths, fingers and cocks to invade them.

They had also started using toys. They found the joys of vibrators and dildos and they seemed to be loving their new experiments. The girls strapped on rubber cocks of every size and color, and wasted no time being gender fluid, fucking each other, demanding their rubber cocks be sucked by one another. While their asses and pussies were being stretched daily, I could feel my own pussy closing up from inactivity.

I sneaked a rub out from time to time. I did it both ways. I got myself off in sneaky ways that I think nobody ever knew about. I also masturbated in ways and places where I knew I'd get caught. I got more spankings and other punishments than I could count. Some I liked, some not so much. At the end of the day though, I realized that any attention was better than isolation, and I found myself appreciating even the punishments I didn't like on some level.

When Sam went in the living room the first time, I peeked, but saw nothing. I also didn't hear any of the usual sounds; dirty talk, moaning, grunting, heavy breathing as tiny bodies took large tools. The sounds of orgasms. Nothing. Sam suddenly pulled me off of his cock and went back in the living room. This time, when I peeked, I saw nothing of the usual activity. My 3 daughters and my husband were fully clothed, sitting in kind of a circle, talking low. It was a strange sight.

Sam came back in. "Good news, slut. You are allowed to fuck". Finally. I could hardly contain my excitement. I felt like a giggling schoolgirl. I contained my excitement, even as I felt myself get wet. "How would you like me, sir"? I said as I got to my feet. Sam turned me around and bent me over the table. I was ready. This was one of my favorite positions, being bent over, standing, pounded from behind. No cock this time though. Sam's fat fingers probed me, 1 finger, then 2, and he had to work to get the 2 in.

I had a dream that I was turning into a virgin again. I actually felt something inside growing, creating a barricade to fingers and cocks. I'd have to be broken for the 2nd time in my life. I woke that morning in a puddle on the bed. Just the dream of a big dick forcing itself into my depths, breaking through that barrier with intent, the pain and shock of it washing over and into me was just too much.

Sam picked me up like a rag doll and flipped me over, putting me on my back on the kitchen table. He spread my legs wide and stared at the lips between my legs. I could feel his eyes burning into me. He saw me opening, saw the glistening of my wet lips and the pucker of my tiny asshole. He had me wide open to his inspection. I never felt more vulnerable. And I was a little scared.

I felt the head of his hard cock at my entrance. Normally, Sam was one of those guys that would rub his head up and down on my lips, coating the head with my juices. Even lubricated, he still could only get a few inches in on the first stroke, and it would take several strokes, an inch at a time, before he was fully inside me. Instead of pressing forward, he stopped. I wiggled forward, trying to get him to enter me.

He held his position, refusing entry, and seemed amused at my attempt. Rather than moving forward, he spoke. "Do you remember that commercial, How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop"? I don't think I moved. I couldn't actually process a question like this in my brain. I was spread open, about to take a big fat black cock and he was asking me about a commercial? Just weird.

"I want you to tell me how many strokes it takes to get you to a creamy middle". What? What? I couldn't get to the core of the request. Suddenly Sam shoved forward hard, jamming his entire cock into me with one push. I know I screamed. There was a rush of being suddenly filled, a pain shooting through me at the sudden invasion, forcing me open and banging my cervix. "Count". Sam said as he stopped, fully inside me.

I managed to say "one" weakly, but the break gave me that few seconds to feel my body adjust. A fleeting thought came over me that I, not Sam was in control. After all of my inactivity, my body sucked him in, need and desire overcoming reason. My body pulled him in to my full depth, forcing me open to welcome the large invader. In that moment, pain gave way to need, and I went from accommodating to demanding. My pussy had a need and I wanted it filled.

Sam backed out and pushed forward again. I still wasn't fully prepared, but I was loving being overpowered and just being taken. I counted the strokes, some out loud, some in a whisper and some to myself. "38, 39", and I realized the counting was taking away from my enjoyment. My head was in the wrong place. My mind was trying to go off in 2 very different directions. "43, 44".

I can't say fully that I still wasn't enjoying myself. The thick cock opened me up over and over, pushing in and out of me. The strokes were varied. This was Sam's fuck signature. He would slam all the way in, hesitating for a beat, then pull out for 3 or 4 short strokes, then fill me completely for a few strokes, slower on the retreat, slamming forward to hear me grunt. After very few minutes, his black cock was completely coated in my juice. Part of my excitement was, in this position. watching a shiny dark cock invade my tiny, white on the outside, pink on the inside, hole.

It was my favorite porn, because I was living it. The counting took away my ability to concentrate on my own orgasm, but I felt a flutter and knew my body was responding. I sometimes pity guys. You seem to have just one orgasm. It doesn't matter if you're using your hand or someone else's, a pussy, mouth or ass. You shoot a load, it feels good for 2 seconds and you're done until you recharge. Girls are different.

First, we have an orgasm that comes from our head. It is being in a special place. It is different for everyone. Women close their eyes and imagine any number of things; being fucked by a famous star, being taken and raped in a home invasion, being forced by some authority figure, police or soldiers, being gang banged, fucking a family member. There is no limit to our imagination. We also have orgasms that come strictly from our clit. A tongue flicking up and down, side to side, rising and falling, shallow and deep can give us an explosion.

Some women can't cum that way. They are too self conscious at the idea of someone going down on them. Their satisfaction is in being fucked. It isn't a real orgasm in my mind, but they seem to enjoy it. Size queens get off by taking the biggest thing they can inside them, and some girls get their best orgasms when the fingers inside them curl up to find that little flat place they call the g spot. There are dream orgasms, involuntary physical orgasms and a warm slow burn orgasm that spreads out, warm and wet from deep inside.

I am lucky. I have had and continue to have the majority of these events. Even luckier, I've been able to recognize these feelings, large and small, as real orgasms. I know women that have never had an orgasm and I feel sorry for them. You have to put yourself into different situations to experience different feelings. Many women are just too uptight to release their control and put themselves into what might be uncomfortable for the moment, but could lead to greater things.

I felt myself being fucked, even if I couldn't fully commit my mind to it. I was opened up over and over. I felt every inch of length, and of girth, going in and out, stretching my opening, until I could actually see my lips gripping the large black cock using me. "68. 69". My tits were mauled as his hands felt for something to hold onto. Sam's hands moved a lot. Holding my hips and waist to hold me in place, gripping my ankles and knees to open me obscenely to his cock and gaze, on my tits, squeezing them and pinching my nipples.

I loved Sam's hands on me. It felt like, for those minutes, I was his possession, his alone to do with me as he wished. Some women are self conscious. They obsess over their aging bodies. Sagging breasts from aging, a paunch you can't entirely eliminate after childbirth, the ass that drops a few inches. They buy clothes to push things up, have surgery to tighten things up, and spend their lives trying to recapture their youth through their looks. I feel sorry for them. "99, 100".

How long, in real time, does it take to get to a cock fucking into you 100 times? Shit, I lost count. "111, 112". Sam seemed pleased by the count. It felt to me that he was lasting longer than usual. Then again, it could have been my counting throwing off my ability to accurately evaluate what was happening. Sam was breathing harder. I knew from experience than he wasn't going to last much longer. He began fucking that big black cock into my hot, wet pussy a little harder and faster.

Suddenly, I had one of those physical orgasms that build suddenly and seem to come from nowhere. It took a second to understand that Sam's thumb had been rubbing over my clit for a bit. "Oh, fuck". I exploded, from deep inside, on his cock and fingers. Sam put his thumb in my mouth and I sucked on it. Don't forget to count. I think I counted the thumb fucking my mouth more than the cock in my pussy then.

"156, 157". Sam suddenly thrust forward and hesitated. I knew his sperm was shooting deep inside me. He held for a second and made a few short, small strokes in me, adding more of his seed to my collection. I could already feel the wetness dripping out of me, down my crack, over my asshole. He held himself in, but began to soften almost immediately. I found I liked both kind of cocks in this situation. Older guys had cocks that deflated pretty quickly, and even if held in, would slip out on their own after a few short minutes. Younger guys stayed hard longer, and some would keep fucking for a while. Others would pull a fully hard cock out, almost putting the wet, cum covered phallus on display.

When I felt Sam slip out, I said my final number, 188, proudly. I slipped off the table and went to my knees to clean him up. That was the other thing. Some girls don't appreciate balls. They don't like them, in fact, and pay them no attention. Not me. I liked balls. I liked the young, tight ones just as much as the older wrinkled ones with more folds. I also had some respect for balls. This was, after all, where life came from. I liked the idea that I was the one draining the balls.

I licked and sucked the cock clean, but I spent far more time with my tongue on those balls. My mouth wanted to suck them in, individually and together, and my tongue wanted to explore every fold, every crease, searching for elusive drops of cum. I was also enjoying the feeling of Sam's deposit dripping out of me. When I finally stood up, I reached 2 fingers between my legs. Wet with a mix of our cum, I made a show of sucking my fingers clean.

I reached up and put my arms around Sam's neck. I kissed his neck and whispered in his ear. "I missed you". Sam pulled me into him and I pressed my tiny nude white body into his large, thick black body. As much as I enjoyed Sam, I wished for another cock right behind him. I had my best orgasms on the 2nd or 3rd time I was being taken. It could have been in my head, being used by multiple men multiple times, or it could have been that I just needed more time to really get off.

Part of me said I couldn't believe I had fallen into this lifestyle. Another part of me said I couldn't believe I hadn't fallen into this lifestyle sooner. I know women that would have folded and never recovered from my life. I know women that would have fought to the death at the first suggestion of being in my position. I don't know what I could ever say to them. I went over the entire situation, from the seduction to the domination in my head many times. I can't say I would ever have done anything differently.

I was a submissive slut that needed control, punishment and reward. Everyone around me seemed to see that. The only person that didn't recognize these qualities in me was me. After Sam left, I went about doing some things around the house. I was getting pretty good at keeping a certain level of order to things. Nothing in my life had ever reached level of perfection, even in my mind, and I didn't know how to get there.

I cried more at being a disappointment to myself and my family than I ever did from my punishments. They didn't have to punish me. The disapproving looks were enough. I didn't have time to wallow in self pity. January came through the door and told me to make myself pretty. "Clean your cunt, cunt. We're going to school. Time for you to get me some extra credit".

I had forgotten about her promise to the teacher. It was time to pay up. The first of many times I would be giving up my goodies to get my youngest good grades. I scrambled up the steps. January waited as I took a shower. As I dried off and went to my tiny room, I found a small wraparound skirt and a thin, loose shirt on the bed. "10 minutes, whore". January left to wait for me downstairs.

I pulled on the clothes, what there was of them, dried my hair and quickly applied my makeup. The shirt was not just thin, it was a crop top. With my breast sag and no bra, there was no way to stand without showing underboob. The material was also so thin that you could see my dark nipples right through it. The skirt was fastened so loose that a stiff wind could probably blow the thing right off of me. Oh, well. I knew I wouldn't be dressed long anyway. Naturally, no panties.

January drove to school. She guided me to a room I'd never been in before. An older, severe looking woman sat behind the desk. The woman was tall and thin. Her black hair was pulled back, twisted into a bun. She wore a long black skirt that came to just below her knees and a crisp white blouse. I guessed her age at late 50s, maybe 60. She got up and looked me over. "She'll do. You have a deal".

January pulled my chin up and looked in my eyes. "Do whatever she tells you to do". I nodded my understanding. The woman walked around me twice, slowly, taking every inch of me in. She smelled like strawberry, some kind of shampoo or lotion I guessed. "On the desk". A flat statement, not a request, not a demand. I sat on the edge of the desk, facing the woman. She stepped up, pushed my knees apart and put her hand up what there was of the skirt.

She seemed pleased at my moist lips as she ran her fingers over the lips of my pussy. The skirt fell, left and right, and although I was still wearing it, the woman had a full view of my sex. I could tell without looking that my nipples were exposed. I found out later that her name was Brenda something, and she taught advanced English. She leaned forward and sucked on my nipples. If there was any milk left in my breasts after having the girls, this woman was determined to find it.

She sucked my nipples hard, making them stiff and standing out like thick pencil erasers. She squeezed my boobs as she went back and forth, guiding each nipple to her hungry mouth, going from one to the other over and over. Finally, she released my boobs and went to her knees. She stripped off my skirt and began to lick my thick lips. She tried to fuck me with her tongue, and I wondered if she could taste Sam's cum that was probably still inside me.