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  • — My Cheating Heart —
    Straight Female / 34

    I love/loved my life, my husband and my daughter. Then why have I risked it all on a one night stand with two guys who've told me they now expect more. It wasn't even my idea to go to the party, it was my sisters and it was her insistance I try some of goods on offer. I'd never had any drugs in my life, so taking the pill was a bad idea in the first place. My sister was already being entertained by her girlfriend as far as I knew. The two guys who flirted with me knew I was with her and that I'm married.
    When my head started to feel light I should have left the party, but I felt resposible for my sister and I was still furious with my husband for hitting me. That alone altered my senses and my perception of what was right and wrong, let alone the drugs. When both men escorted me up to the bedroom I was evidently only too willing to go.
    They both had larger thicker cocks than my husband, that I do remember, and both of them had their cocks sucked until they came all over my face. I'd only just started though or so I thought and wanted to cum myself, so like a slut I let them both have me. I fucked them one at a time at first, until I felt the older of the two licking my asshole as I was taking his friends cock up my pussy.
    I'm not sure if he wasn't licking his friends cock too at the same time. It sounded and felt that way from what I can remember. Whatever, I knew when he pushed his cock head against my rear hole I wanted it and he certainly gave it to me.
    It's not the first time I've been fucked in the ass, my husband and I regularilly have anal sex, but with them being so much bigger than him, I was screaming for them to fuck me.
    It was almost like I wasn't me, when they were fucking me so hard. I'd lost all sense of my usual calmness, marital faith and motherhood. I'd become a slut and strangely it felt wonderfully free and liberating. In essence I'd let them have me whatever way they wanted me, and inside my thoughts I was loving every second of it.
    Only my little sister walking in and seeing her older sister slutting herself, brought me back to reality. It didn't stop both men unloading inside my body though, as they told her to fuck off.
    With an anger and a steely determination I've never seen in her before, she flew at them and we all ended up in a pile. I thought they were going to turn on her, but her girlfriend and another guy pulled them away. I was left lying there naked with my pussy and assholes leaking cum, but with a massive stupid sexual grin on my face.
    The next day my sister called round, my husband wasn't talking to me and I felt like shit. She explained what had happened when my husband took our daughter out, so we could chat. It hadn't occured to me how long I'd been with the two guys, but apparently they'd been fucking me for over an hour before my sister had heard me scream. The drug was something she'd told them I wasn't to use, they were supposed to only let me try cannabis.
    Our chat lasted for over an hour before my husband and daughter returned. By then I learned how much of a slut I'd been, as the two guys had spoken to my sister that morning. I listened to her tell me how I'd been begging them to fuck me up the ass, when I was downstairs at the party with them. She also told me when she'd seen them that morning, they'd both love to fuck me again and most probably will.
    The reason they're so cock sure, is that they both work with my husband and mentioned to my sister, he'd probably not want to know about what went on at the party.
    I know I've messed up big style and I also know my sister will cover for me, no matter what. What I can't understand is all the memories of the sex I had with the two guys, are really enjoyable one, ones I look back on now with a glowing horny feeling.

    #15183 — Comments (0) — Jun 13, 2013 at 11:20 AM — That's Juicy! (22) Remove This.
  • — Dreams and Wishes —
    Posted by Anonymous

    I tightened my carpenter's belt and looked at the rotting foundations. I had taken on the job of building a new terrace on my uncle's summer house, a combination vacation and summer job. Actually there were two uncles who had built only yards apart on my grandfather's land, part of the deal being that my mother got the apartment in the city. I hefted a crowbar and tried to look mean.

    -Hi there!

    I turned. She was tiny, dark and beautiful, dressed in a blue micro-miniskirt and a skimpy top, sitting on the porch of the other house, looking expectantly at me.


    She jumped up, came over and gave me a hug. -Terry!

    The last time I saw her she was a skinny imp, twelve or so, with her half Thai features just short of breaking out in full bloom. She hadn't grown in height, but there were new curves around her hips and more flesh on her arms and legs. The minimal black skirt rode low, but still couldn't quite hide glimpses of white when she moved. The small lumps under her top showed tiny nipples through the fabric. I knew she was twenty-two, but she didn't look it.

    -Well, cousin, school's out, right?

    -Finally. So here I am, back to nature for two lovely months. She smiled and spread her arms: -Just the trees and me. And you.

    I explained my mission. I remembered her fondness for the place, when other twelve-year-olds would dream of stardom, the big city and expensive shoes. She would take long walks, climb trees, and run around with as little on as possible. Not an exhibitionist, a natural. She sat down, arms hugging her knees, white panties showing, and smiled at me. I also remembered our mutual liking, despite a four-year difference in age. I recalled a soft kiss on my cheek and the lightness of her body on my lap in the darkness as Uncle David told ghost stories.

    Ten years. It could have been last week. I put the crowbar aside and went to fetch a couple of beers. We sat cross-legged on the grass, updating events. Emptying the can she rose, stretched in a feline way, skirt lifting. Her full black hair reached her tiny waist when she lifted her face. Then she looked down at me.

    -Just have to water the grass.

    She pulled down her panties and sank to her haunches, still with her eyes on me. Pulled up, smiled, and sat down again.

    She used to do that. Squat whenever she had to go, wherever she happened to be, making nothing of it. I admired that naturalness in her, being rather shy myself.

    We talked a bit before I decided to start working, promising her to take breaks often. She could make iced tea, or something?

    This could be a very satisfying job.

    I was well into tearing down the old terrace when Deena appeared, carrying a tray. She called me down, offering me iced tea and cold Pepsi. We sat on the grass, enjoying the sun, reminiscing. She had tucked her legs under her, skirt barely covering her groin. Without interrupting the conversation she spread her legs slightly and I heard a hissing sound. Looking down I saw the golden stream trickle from her panties.

    She saw my stare. -Oops, she smiled. -Guess I'm too used to doing that out here. That's freedom for me. Going whenever I need. Do you mind?

    -Not at all. It's cute.

    -Waking up in the morning. Going out on the porch, naked. Letting go right there- back to nature, right?

    I smiled at her. -Feel free around me. Brightens up my day, that.

    She grinned back. -Keep working, Terry. Talk to you later.

    I looked at her sweet butt under the swinging skirt as she walked off, thinking about a wet stain on white cotton.

    I decided to stop for the night, having removed most of the old planks. I changed into cutoffs and brought a beer to the front steps. Deena appeared only minutes later, hips swaying, wearing a long knit dress that hugged every curve on her exquisite body. She carried a bottle of white wine and two glasses, and sat down beside me.

    -So, she said, -tell me all. Any resident girlfriends?


    -Any getting-to-move-in-soon girlfriends, then?

    -None on that, too. You?


    -You know what I mean.

    She laughed. -Single, and loving every second of it.

    Deena hugged her knees. The dress was so tight it didn't even wrinkle, and she wore panty shorts underneath. -Okay, just got disentangled. End of story.

    I downed my beer and accepted wine. Holding the glass kept me from putting an arm around her.

    She looked at me, took the glass from my hand, and snuggled in under my arm.

    -Just hold me like that, will you.

    I felt the heat from her body, and a soft feminine smell. We sat in silence for a while, sipping wine. Then she sighed. -I could sit here forever. If only I didn't have to pee.

    She made no sign of wanting to get up, so I squeezed her shoulder and thought improper thoughts. Minutes passed. Then she lifted her head from my shoulder.

    -Well. When a girl's got to go... She went down onto the grass, wriggled her dress up, and pulled her panties down before squatting. When finished she rose, pulled up and smoothed down her dress. -Whew, she said. -That felt good.

    I wasn't used to girls who were so open about it. I had to adjust myself to keep from escaping my cutoffs. She sat down again and poured more wine.

    After some mutual updating on family and history, she suggested a walk. We followed the road along the lake, and suddenly I felt a small hand touch mine. I looked at the tiny woman beside me, with her black hair and beautiful brown eyes, and could have melted on the spot.

    Turning down the path to the water she walked in front of me. I caressed her butt with my eyes, watching the fabric move over the outline of the panty shorts. I wondered what color she was wearing.

    Down by the shore she turned to me. -Fancy a swim?

    -Okay, I said, unbuttoning my cutoffs.

    Deena pulled her dress up over her head. Red- bright red panties. Flat belly and small breasts, pointed nipples.

    She dipped her toes: -Ow!


    -Better add some hot water. She squatted; facing me, butt two inches above the surface, and peed through her panties. -There. Now I have to go in.

    She waded to her knees, hugging herself, shivering. My eyes were glued to the wet stain between her legs. She turned. -On second thoughts...

    -We'll come back another day, when the sun is still up, I said, trying to button my shorts.

    She laughed. -I'm such a pussy. And I've peed my panties again.

    -Cute, I said.

    She smiled at me and put her dress on, took my hand, and we walked back.

    Then she said goodnight and went in.

    The next morning I was up early. After a couple of hours her door opened, and she emerged, dressed in an oversize t-shirt. She greeted me, stretched her arms towards the sun, spread her feet and peed standing up. She went back in, and came out minutes later wearing red leggings and a tiny halter-top, carrying a tray. Breakfast for two. We sat cross-legged on the grass, and there was nowhere to look but at her bare belly and the tight cotton beneath it.

    Of course we talked, but my mind was on her lovely shapes. There was a penny-sized dark spot between her legs, it could have been from the moisture in the grass, or maybe not. We finished eating, and she carried the tray back to the house. I seriously believe she had nothing under her leggings.

    Later she came out to tan herself. It was the smallest bikini I had ever seen-three tiny black triangles on thin strings barely covering nipples and pubic hair, if there was any. It didn't look like it. She spread out a big towel and arranged books, magazines and beverages around her.

    And they were expecting me to work in these circumstances?

    I rearranged my plans, deciding to work on the other side so as to have a better view of her. She laid on her belly reading, with her perfect butt to the sun, one string circling her hips and another disappearing down the crack. Perched on her elbows her back was arched, and her hair was tied in two ponytails to be out of the way.

    Ten pages on she put the book down and turned on her back. The unnecessary bikini top made her look even more undressed. She put her hand on her belly. Then moved it slowly, in small circles. Her other hand covered one small breast. The circles moved downwards, until her fingertips rested on top of the black Lycra covering her mound. She spread her legs slightly, and her hand slipped further down. One finger found the beginning of her slit, pressing the fabric against her sensitive spot. She pinched her nipple as her hand covered her crotch, pressing rhythmically on her openings. A mewing sound escaped her as her hips rose and her hand clenched.

    She lay still, getting her breath back. Then she pushed the Lycra to one side and a golden stream rose from her sex. Finished, she adjusted her bikini bottom and turned on her belly again.

    I walked around the house to be alone.

    I had barely done what I had to do before she called me.

    -I need some groceries. Want to come?


    Sh e had put on a minimal denim skirt and pink t-shirt. We got in her car, a battered Toyota. There was a towel on the floor in front of the passenger seat, and she quickly tossed it in the back. She drove sitting with legs apart, giving me a good view of her pink panties.

    -What's with the towel, I asked.

    -If it's a long drive, I sit on it, she replied.

    -For comfort?

    She cast a glance at me. -Don't pretend. In case I'm held up in traffic, of course.

    -Then you just...

    -Let go. Do I shock you?

    -You turn me on, I said. -I would love to see that.

    She put a hand on my thigh. -Buy me a soda or two, and we'll see what happens.

    We made our purchases and walked down the short street to the café. I ordered iced tea and water, and we sipped, watching the locals. We even had another round before we left. Deena walked with small steps, soft thighs together, obviously in need of a pee. She smiled as she wriggled into the seat, hand touching her belly:

    -I really have to go.

    -Drive slowly, I said.

    She chose a longer way home. Now she had to keep her knees together, and occasionally a hand left the wheel to rest in her lap. She bit her lip and concentrated, wriggling in the seat.

    -I have to pee, she said. -Really have to pee. She checked the mirror and slowed down before reaching for the towel. -Almost wetting myself, she moaned as she struggled to fold the towel and place it under her butt, still cruising slowly.

    -I can't hold it, she whispered, knees trembling. She spread her legs, and I stared as she began wetting her panties and skirt, staining the towel. -I'm peeing!

    She managed to stop the flood, and drove on. There was a soft smell of girl pee in the car. Minutes later she pulled over. -I'm still bursting, she said. -Should I just do it?

    -Let go, I said.

    She looked down in her lap, pulled up the hem of the skirt and watched herself as she let loose, totally soaking the towel. Relieved, she smoothed down the skirt and drove on home.

    I watched her as she walked away from the car, carrying groceries. She reached up under the wet crescent to pull her soaked panties out of her butt crack.

    Through the lace curtains I could see Deena in her room- a small dark outline still wearing the miniskirt. She moved about, occasionally drinking from a soda or something. She looked in her closet, probably choosing new garments. There was probably a mirror on the wall perpendicular to the window, as she stood still staring at something. She made a beautiful silhouette, her long thick hair, the small plums on her chest, the arc of her back accentuating her tiny belly and rounded butt.

    She pulled her t-shirt over her head. Stroked her breasts, cupped them. Stepped out of her skirt, wriggled her panties down. She patted her belly, and then turned around to look at her own profile, back to me. Incredibly slim waist. Slowly she pulled a garment over her head; it must have been very tight fitting, as it didn't change her profile. She pulled on a pair of pants, wriggling her hips to fit them in. Suddenly she turned and pulled the curtains away, laughing at me. -Nice view, Terry?

    -Who needs a TV?

    -Be right with you.

    She stepped up to me carrying a six-pack. The t-shirt was white with some cartoon figure on the front. The jeans, barely covering her pubic mound, were faded light blue and were laced up in front. No pockets. She sat beside me, popping a beer.

    I pointed at the grinning face on the t-shirt. -Still shopping in the children's department?

    -Sure. You should see my Minnie Mouse panty collection.

    -You're not wearing any now, I believe.



    -Perfect couple, right?

    Her eyes laughed at me. She was my cousin, that made it OK, didn't it? I smiled and drank beer.

    I had to relieve myself. I stepped down, finding no need for seclusion, and unbuttoned. She looked at me, and then rose, came up behind me, and took matters into her own hands, so to speak. I felt myself grow in her small hand as she watered the bushes. She put me back in - not without difficulty - and buttoned up. -You forgot to shake, I said.

    She laughed. -Next time. Then she began to unlace her jeans.

    -Wait, I said. -You'll probably need help with that.

    I stood behind her, bending down to untie the knot. Straining the fabric I pulled her jeans down to mid-thigh, and on sudden impulse I grabbed her behind her knees and lifted her. She let it flow, relaxing in my arms.

    I helped her lace up again, and she stretched to give me a quick kiss. Time for more beer.

    The night grew chilly. She moved one step below me and leaned back between my legs, putting my arms around her. I felt a small breast, but she didn't move my arm.

    -Did you know I had a big crush on you, back then?


    -Oh yes. I remember watching you, getting all kinds of strange feelings in my pussy. I even spied on you when you peed, pulling down my shorts, trying hard to do the same. I wanted to hold you while you did it.

    -Now you have.

    -But then I could only imagine. I even tried peeing standing up, but most of it soaked my shorts. Actually, that didn't feel so bad, so I started wetting myself frequently. When nobody would find out. I wore a dress with nothing under so I could sit on the grass and do it. Sneak my hand under my skirt and hold myself. Rub a little. Fondle my little thing down there until my body shivered and I had to pee again.

    Deena had one hand between her legs. I stroked her belly, tracing the line above her waistband. My other hand cupped her breast.

    -I stopped when my breasts grew and I got my period. Thinking that this wetting stuff was for kids only. But a couple of years ago I sat out here, alone, drinking iced tea, wearing leggings, thinking back. Remembering the feeling. I had to pee, and was feeling a little horny, so I decided to try, just a little. Letting out a few drops. I felt my pussy and got really turned on by the warm wetness. Let go a little more. Drank more tea. Finally I was totally bursting, had to hold on with both hands. Thought why not, so I just spread my legs and peed myself. Lovely. Since then... I've been hooked. Terry, I have to pee again.

    I slid my hand down to her waistband. She held her breath to let me in. I held her totally hairless pussy, and she spread her legs to help my finger slide into her. As I touched her clit she moaned, wriggled, and peed a small squirt. I kept stroking, feeling my hand get wetter with every movement.

    -You're wetting your jeans, Deena, I said.

    -I can't hold it! She wriggled out of my arms and stood in front of me, hips pushed forward, palm-sized pee stain between her legs. -It's coming!

    The pee burst from her crotch, running down her legs, darkening the pale blue denim. I rose, and she wrapped her arms and legs around me, still peeing. I held her cute little butt, feeling the warm liquid pouring over my hands. We sank down to the ground, undressing each other, streams of pee still spurting from her. We joined. Lying on the grass, beautiful Deena in my arms, I knew this job would take a long, long time.

    #1180 — Comments (3) — Sep 19, 2003 at 7:56 AM — That's Juicy! (0) Remove This.
  • — My Cheating Heart —
    Straight Male / 48

    Years ago after I had gotten a job after college I got my own apartment and was on my on. My younger brother after high school was working whatever jobs moved in with me. He even got married and moved her in with us. She was a small redhead with a bitchy attitude. I had lost my patience and was ready for them to move out. My brother had a job at a golf course and would drink free alcohol and come home drunk every night. I finally came up with the idea to try to start fucking my sister-in-law and maybe they would move out. One morning I listened to them having sex from my room I was sexually excited. I heard my brother leave for work which is a hour before I go to work. I walked out of my room she was naked in the kitchen and walked to garbage and threw away a used condom. She turned away from me and apologized. I walked up behind her and pulled down my shorts and put dick between her legs trying to enter her. She bent over the counter and gave me easy access to doggy her. I cum in her after a bread fucking. She asked if I cum in her which I told her I did. This started me having sex with her almost daily. After my brother would leave for work she came and got in my bed. My brother worked long hours and came home drunk often so I had fucked her before he got home. She is the best sex I have ever had. She had sensitive puffy nipples and loved to be on top. They moved to the golf course keeper house when she was 5 months pregnant. We still would get together from time to time but then I met my now wife so I stopped sex with my sister-in-law.

    #26180 — Comments (1) — Feb 4, 2016 at 12:29 AM — That's Juicy! (14) Remove This.
  • — Anything Goes —
    Posted by Anonymous

    It all started so innocently.

    When I was 8 years old I found someone’s discarded stocking in the woods and I tried it on. The feeling fascinated me but I vowed never to do it again.

    A year later I started trying my mother’s pantyhose. My first orgasm happened while I was wearing white pantyhose with a lacy French cut and black pumps with bows on the vamp.

    I stopped for a while in college, but in my mid-20s I started again. I also started doing cybersex with other guys looking for ‘girls’ like me.

    In 2006 I started sucking dick. It freaked me out at first, but I quickly learned to enjoy it, including the salty taste of precum just before a man bursts.

    Now I can’t get enough cock in my mouth or ass. The only sex I have had has been with other men, I have always been dressed like a girl, and I have always been a bottom.

    I no longer fantasize about women at all, only about dressing like them and pleasing men. My latest fantasy is for a stud to make me dinner, to get drunk with him on wine, to start kissing and cuddling, and then for him slide my miniskirt up, my pantyhose down, and to start groping me and fucking me as I submit to his every sexual whim.

    The word sissy should have a picture of me next to it in the dictionary, all dolled up. I’m gay, but there’s more to it than that.

    As I look down at the pantyhose on my legs and the high heels on my feet, I realize that sexually, I have totally failed as a man. And I love it! I want to meet a man I can be with and be his ‘girl.’

    #10764 — Comments (2) — Jan 9, 2012 at 9:23 PM — That's Juicy! (3) Remove This.
  • — Sex Confessions —
    Posted by Anonymous

    I'm a prostitute. I do it to keep from having to drop out of college. It started with a customer on my paper route, an older man who would meet me every morning and make small talk. His talk got more and more suggestive until one day he propositioned me. I couldn't believe he would offer me that much money for sex -- enough to pay half my car payment. So I did it and started making arrangements to do it with him every week.

    My next client was the dad of a college friend. His wife refused to give him oral and he was looking to spice up his life. Paying me was part of the turnon for him.

    Eventually word got back to my brother about what I was doing. At first he was ready to kill me until he saw how much money I was making. He ended up offering to help me find new clients. You'd be surprised the people who solicit prostitutes. Some of them are guys from college and friends of my brother. At least one of my clients is a professor.

    You'd be surprised how creative some of my clients are too. One of them doesn't have sex with me -- he just pays me to let him spank me. Another one only likes to masturbate and cum in my face. One client likes to have sex with me while his wife watches and another one will only do it in public places.

    Before this I was normal and law abiding and never dreamed of doing something like this. But I like the money.

    #10762 — Comments (1) — Jan 9, 2012 at 6:40 PM — That's Juicy! (8) Remove This.
  • — Anything Goes —
    Straight Male / 24

    When I left home for Afghanistan I had everything in the world to look forward to. My parents had just retired early, moving from the city into a little gingerbread style home in the country. My two older sibs were both doing great and raising families of their own. And my girlfriend was pregnant with what I hoped would be the first of at least three children for the two of us. All that stood between me and coming back to enjoy it all was a thirteen month deployment.

    But things went straight to hell almost from the moment I touched Afghan soil. My parents were involved in a really bad auto accident on their way home from a weekend of gaming at a local Indian Casino. A woman who was several times over the legal limit of alcohol ploughed right into them at speed. My dad died almost instantly. Mom lingered for a few weeks in the hospital before joining him. While the news was certainly devastating, I still had my girl and our baby to think about returning home to.
    At least until she e-mailed me ten days before I was scheduled to rotate back to the States and told me she had lost the baby early on, but had kept it from me so as not to further depress me. Not only that, but she was now seeing her male friend Brad, because after the loss he was there for her while I wasn't. She said she understood why I couldn't be there, but she had still needed comfort and support and Brad had given it to her. Fucking right, I fumed. I wondered what else the fat, rich little prick had been giving her.
    I destroyed the laptop in front of me and walked out into the Afghan night in a world of pain. I felt like throwing up. I felt like raging up at god in his heaven, asking him if he was enjoying destroying my life. I felt like killing someone. Anyone. Finally I just sat there on my ass, my arms wrapped around my knees blubbering like a fucking baby.

    When I returned home, it was decided that I could live in my parents country house. Technically it belonged to all three of us kids, but my older sibs didn't mind just letting me have it. They already owned their own homes and knew I needed some solitude. Because of the insurance money, I wouldn't have to look for steady work for a really long time. Years, if I lived frugally and didn't waste it.
    My parents property was almost entirely surrounded by huge vineyards owned and maintained by the Sun Maid Corporation. And the nearest neighbors were more than a quarter mile away, which was fine with me. I hated everyone and didn't want any human interaction. I got rid of the phone, the television and my parents desktop pc. It all went into storage. All I wanted was a radio, my books and a dog for company. I adopted a shepherd mix mutt from the pound and named him Doc. We became bros almost immediately.
    I guess I first noticed the little girl staring at me around the fifth or sixth day I moved in. I could see her hunkered down on her haunches in the vineyard spying on me as I worked in my mother's garden. She looked about eight, had long jet black hair, big dark eyes and skin like cinnamon mixed with brown sugar. Maybe Hispanic, maybe Native American. I wasn't sure. We had plenty of both in my home county. The couple of times I acknowledged her presence by speaking or waving, she'd bolted like a scared rabbit. So I just started ignoring her and decided she was just a weird little kid.
    I didn't think about her much after that until maybe a couple of months after moving in. I'd woken up pretty early as usual and had slogged my sorry ass into the kitchen to put on coffee and stare out the window above the sink and see what kind of a day it was shaping up to be. I was still in the boxers I slept in. That was when I caught movement out in the vineyard and saw the girl running flat out for my place, with a really big dog on her tail. It was a feral. We had all kinds of trouble with ferals out in the boonies. City people had a nasty habit of dumping their unwanted dogs and if they survived, they'd go mean and revert back to their inner wolf. They played hell on the livestock and people's pets. Sometimes on the people themselves.

    I bolted through the pantry and the wash room and out the back door, grabbing the aluminum baseball bat I kept handy for ferals. Doc, sensing something was about to go down ran out with me and we both seemed to have the same idea at the same time. We ran up the dirt service road that zigzagged all through the vineyards to make better time. Doc ended up getting to the girl ahead of me, shooting past her as she dropped to the ground and went into a fetal position arms above her head, and tackling the much bigger dog with a fearlessness I've sense come to admire about him. With the two dogs a snarling, biting blur of motion, I positioned myself above the girl with the bat cocked back waiting for a chance. It finally came when the larger dog, some sort of chow-pitbull hybride, flipped him aside and lunged toward me and the girl. I clocked him upside the muzzle so hard the reverb stung my arms. It yelped and half flipped backwards, where a bloody but thoroughly game for a rematch Doc descended on him, ripping and tearing. With a frustrated yowl that was about as close to "Fuck this shit" as I've ever heard a dog exclaim, the big feral retreated the way he'd come. Doc didn't pursue, he just stood his ground, breathing heavy, hair standing on end, watching him go.
    I looked down at the girl and asked her if she was ok, she nodded and picked herself up. She pointed at her throat and then to her mouth and shook her head. She was mute. Finally getting a good look at her I could see she was Native American. She had the beautiful almond shaped eyes and the fine facial bone structure. I asked her where she lived and she pointed across the vineyard at a little speck of white. A little shack set behind a larger house. I told her I'd better walk her home, because the feral probably hadn't gone too far. I needed to get dressed first.
    I didn't know it then, but I'd made a friend.

    Her name was Breanna Kingbird. She and her mother lived in an old shed that had been poorly (and probably illegally) converted into a house. Their landlord, a fat old Armenian farmer, lived in the huge house in front. Breanna's mother, Jamie worked as a cashier at a Walmart a couple Podunk farm towns over.
    Breanna started showing up on my backsteps every morning, always carrying a Magic Slate, one of those old toys where kids write with a little plastic utensil and then lift the thin sheet of plastic to erase what they'd written or drawn. It was how she communicated. The kid talked a lot. Pretty soon I knew everything about her and her mom. And surprisingly, I discovered she didn't set off my "I hate humanity" triggers. In fact, I looked forward to her visits.
    Over the summer I built a chicken coop and a rabbit hutch, then went to the local auction yard and bought myself some chickens and rabbits. Breanna loved helping me take care of them. I finally met her mother too, when she came by to see who the strange white man was her little girl was spending so much time with. Jamie was really pretty, like her daughter. But I could tell she'd had a pretty hard life. There was a sadness in her eyes.
    Breanna had told me about her mom's boyfriends. Most had been real dirtbags. One of them was responsible for Breanna's not speaking. She had been molested while her mother was at work, and as a result of the trauma she'd just quit speaking. Jamie had called the sheriff when she found out and the child molester was still in prison. Since then she hadn't dated much, but one of her ex's, a big mean redneck trucker had recently returned uninvited and was making life for the girls unpleasant at home. They were both too scared to make him leave.

    It was about quarter past two in the morning and raining heavy the night I heard the pounding on my back door. I still snapped wide awake, fully alert at any sound that shouldn't be there. So I rolled out of bed evan as my eyes were opening and I assumed a half crouch, as my waking brain focused on what had woken me. The back door. Doc was awake now too, his ears perked up and head raised as he lay across the foot of the bed. I went to the back door and opened it a crack, peering out into absolute black. I saw Breanna's fingers trying to push the door open and I unlatched it and let her in. She was frantic, gesturing wildly and trying to tell me something, without being able to use her slate. I finally got a napkin and a stub of pencil and had her write it. She wasn't a good speller, but I managed to make out "Help, he's killing mom". Once again, just in my skivvies I told Bree to stay put and lock the door, then started running for her shack in the dark, with cold rain driving down sideways into my face. Neither Bree nor Doc obeyed my "stay here" order. But I wouldn't know that until later.
    I heard Jamie screaming and crying well before I made it to the shack. When I slid into the muddy yard I saw a guy that looked so much like that old wrestler Terry Funk I had to double take. And he was friggin huge. He had a handful of Jamie's long black hair and he was dragging her across the muddy yard. I heard the landlord's wife yell that she had called the sheriff through the screen of her backporch.
    Then he saw me and he stopped dragging Jamie.
    "Who the fuck are you??" he asked, his words slurred with drunkenness.
    Well, I was either going to get my ass kicked or I wouldn't. Either way he wasn't hurting the girls anymore. I did my best Doc impression and without answering his question, I flew into him. He was strong. The guy's muscles were like coiled steel and his fighting technique included a lot of biting and attempts at eye gouging. But I allowed all that hate and murderous rage I'd been feeling since returning home to express itself through an outpouring of sheer physical violence. I actually blanked out, losing the time between colliding into him and falling to the ground and being pulled off his unconscious body by the Highway Patrol officers who just happened to be cruising down the road as the call went into 911.
    I found out in jail that I'd nearly killed the guy. It looked as if I was in some pretty deep shit for a while. But the judge who was no friend of guys who got their rocks off beating women, let me walk.

    Jamie began visiting along with Breanna more and more often after I returned home. I slowly found myself embracing the company of people again. In time, Jamie and I began dating. Now she's my wife and Breanna's my adopted daughter. She's speaking again, by the way. I asked her for permission to marry her mother, but told her I wouldn't do it unless she told me it was ok using her own mouth. It took her a little effort after being quite so long, but she managed it. Now I can't get her or her new little brother to be quiet. Guess I should be careful what I wish for.

    #19666 — Comments (7) — Apr 4, 2014 at 6:08 AM — That's Juicy! (23) Remove This.
  • — Sex Confessions —
    Straight Female / 49

    I am a mother with fabulously handsome 18-year-old son who is very intelligent but shy with girls. He is good in school and sports but awkward with the opposite sex. I know that he masturbates because I entered his bedroom without knocking one time and saw that wonderful huge erect penis in his hands. He was so embarrassed. He will be graduating from high school soon and I am DESPERATE to be his first fuck before he leaves. Yes, as perverse as it sounds, I just have to have sexual intercourse with him before it is too late. Otherwise, I know he will fall victim to some young thing in college who will be his first fuck instead of me. But I don't want it to look like I am trying to r---- him. What can I do so that he takes the first step and WANTS to have intercourse with me and DOES it?
    (My husband need not know anything about my intentions!)

    p.s. Time is short. He leaves for college in four months.

    A sexually-starved perversed mom.

    #26186 — Comments (5) — Feb 4, 2016 at 1:03 PM — That's Juicy! (8) Remove This.
  • — Dreams and Wishes —
    Posted by Anonymous

    God where do i start i have so many sometimes they all seem to jumble up in my head i am a single mother who goes to college full time and work part time so i have no time for anything else except my day dreams about a man i can never have and yes he is some one Famous Vin Diesel.that man is just so hot my friends all tease me about him being my obsecion but the thing is i know that it is just that kinda like a crush type thing but hey it doesn't hurt to day dream especially when it is better than your real life but i dream that i would meet him someway it's different everytime but the ending is still the same we would be together in everyway possible. i mean it is just that i've never had a very good sex life it kinda sucks so i guess this is kinda my way of making up for it is to just day dream about oh and there is a motorcycle in there somewhere another fantasy of mine is for him to drive a Harley or a '73 cuda. i have a thing for cars and motorcycles. but what woman doesn't want that whole bad boy image and that is what he is.. he fits it to a T. i guess i will leave you with that.

    #1174 — Comments (0) — Jul 4, 2003 at 1:59 AM — That's Juicy! (0) Remove This.
  • — Women Only —
    Posted by Anonymous

    Looking for some real advice here, please!

    A group of girls threw a bachelorette party for me, and we went around to a bunch of dance clubs. Towards the end of the night, we couldn't find my sister-in-law. A friend and I were walking by a crowd of guys when we found my sister-in-law on a bar stool in the crowd with a guy standing between her legs. They were obviously having sex! Her skirt was pushed up and he was grinding on her big-time.

    I yelled her name and she slurred back "What?" My friend and I had to physically pull the guy off of my sister-in-law. Luckily we did, he had no condom on but didn't cum in her yet. Hopefully he didn't have any diseases.

    So now do I tell my brother? She was sort of out of it, but not so far gone that she doesn't remember. She is begging me not to tell since they didn't "go all the way" in her words. I say she didn't use a condom so it's still unprotected sex.

    #8084 — Comments (8) — Mar 6, 2009 at 5:37 PM — That's Juicy! (3) Remove This.
  • — Out of the Closet —
    Posted by Anonymous

    I'm from a Democratic family. My in laws are Democrats.
    I voted Republican!
    As much as I want to, I can't say anything about it to family members.
    I just don't want to hear the arguments.


    #1150 — Comments (0) — Sep 4, 2002 at 8:56 AM — That's Juicy! (1) Remove This.
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