You know I confess I have lived for many years with several imaginery friends and pets, I am very happy with this situation, I just invent whomever I want to be with or speak to and bingo life's perfect. I am not married, live alone and have no real friends just my imaginary life ! I am new here and at first glance it seems like a great place for a 'second life' or 'alter ego' kind of experience. I plan to make up an imaginery identity here when I work out what the focus of motherless is - I'm guessing sexual deviancy hehe ! Anyway back to my imaginary real life friends, does anyone else follow this kind of lifestyle, there certainly appear to be a lot of very intelligent fantasists on this site! I would love to get advice on how to make the most of it. Many thanks in advance! Jason, Leicester UK.

i fantasise about meeting a nice dominant and finally meeting in real life. The meetings goes very well, i dressed up as a proper slut, tight mini skirt, stockings, CFMN stilettos, tight see-through blouse over a tightly laces corset with silicone false breasts and some slutty makeup to finish the look. i have been in chastity for a week so i am unbelievable horny when the knock on the door finally happens. i totter over to the door and look through the peep hole and it is Him so i open quickly and step behind the door and open it fully for Him to enter. As he passes by me i close the door and lock it behind us. He sits down at the table as i totter over to the mini bar to get the champagne i had brought with me and place it on the table, there are two champagne flutes in the middle of the table.
-You may sit down.
i obey and sit opposite Him at the table. The idea was to have a eye to eye real life meeting here and take it from there.
-Well i can see that your pictures didn't lie. You look very pretty, i am glad you didn't exaggerate and that your pictures was of you. It is not always like that i can tell you.
-Thank You Sir.
He reaches over and picks up the champagne bottle and starts to open it.
-Clearly this is cause for celebration, i am very pleased.
-Thank You Sir.
He effortlessly pops the cork and starts to pour into the two glasses. After he puts the bottle down he motions me to pick up a glass and then takes the other one.
-To a very interesting future for the both of us.
i toast with him and take a sip of the champagne as we continue to chat and start to plan our next step and then there is this hard knocking sound. i look around and am surprised to find that i am laying in the floor bed, i can hear the maid calling through the door that it is checkout time. As i start ti sit up on the bed i realise i am still dressed like i was last night so i yell back that i'll be out of there in 10 minutes. The maid yells back OK through the door. i get up and totter over to the dresser where i had put my male clothes in a drawer. It is empty, i look around and realise that my suitcase that i brought my alter-ego in is also gone. Quickly i totter into the bathroom to check there and the only thing in there is a pink beauty box. i open it and look inside and i recognise my own makeup. A quick search later reveals that there is nothing else left for my except for the pink beauty box. I look through it carefully i find my car keys, wallet, cell phone and house keys in the bottom to my relief. Then the gravity of my situation hits me, i am dressed like a slut in a cheap motel room with no way to get back to my male self. Holy c**p. My mind spins and i have to sit down on the toilet to avoid falling down. I force myself to take several deep breaths and pull my mind together with an effort. My car is parked just outside the motel door and if i stay away out of site for the day i should be able to slip inside my house under the cover of darkness. With an effort i stand up and evaluate what i see in the big mirror. i am a bit dishevelled but a few brushes through my long hair and some quick touch ups of my makeup, i decide that it is as good as i can make it. Peeking through the spy hole and the windows i can see that it looks clear outside so i take the pink beauty box in my left hand together with my car keys and pull the door open with my right, i quickly stagger out of the motel room towards where i left my car before i realise that it is not there anymore, i look around the parking area in wild panic and recognise my car at the other end of the open parking area. In a blind panic i head for it as fast as i can i the ridiculously high heels, knowing that my behaviour is causing more attention to my absurd outfit. When i finally get to my car i fumble with the key before i manage to unlock the driver side door and get inside. As i turn the key to start the engine i bless my foresight to have arranged the meeting in a town over an hours drive from my town, but then i see the blinking fuel light. That is impossible, i filled my car up fully yesterday. I stare at the red light blinking for what feels like a long time until i realise i am still at the motel so i put the car into gear and drive off with screeching tires. After a mile i pull over and open the beauty box and pull my wallet out. I close my eyes and open it, praying that my cash and credit cars are still there. They are so i give a shriek of happiness as i slowly drives towards my home. i can remember a service station just a few miles ahead and as i pull in and stop by the unmanned station i breathe a sigh of relief. There is no one nearby so i get out and fill up the tank with my credit card. When i get back safely inside the car and drive off i feel a lot better. i knew an area where i can park until it gets dark that is not that far from where i live so i headed directly there and when i got there i parked. i pulled out my cell phone from the beauty box and looked for messages from Him, explaining what had happened but there was nothing. Feeling a bit tired and hung over i decided to try to get some rest so i tilted my seat back and dozed off. i woke up late in the afternoon and panicked at first until i realised why i was there and what had happened and then i freaked out again. When i calmed down i once again checked my messages but there was nothing from Him. i was hungry and thirsty but not to bad as i just at there, waiting for the protection of darkness, trying to figure my situation out. Eventually i deemed it dark enough so i started my car and headed home. The drive was uneventful as i finally pulled up under my carport and turned the car off. i lowered my window a but and listened carefully for any signs that some of my neighbours where out, but i could not hear anything so i closed my window, turned the dome light off and opened the driver side door. Carefully i exited and stood in the darkness, blessing the fact that i had not put up a motions sensor despite having been recommended that by my good friend and neighbour. Slowly and as quietly as i could i made my way to the side door, unlocked it and slid inside to safety, locking the door behind me. I headed into my kitchen, closed the drapes and turned on the lights before filling a big glass of water up and drinking it down in one go before heading into my bedroom. When i got there i started to undress quickly and soon there was just the panties and chastity cage left so i picked up the key i had left on my bedside table and went into my bathroom. I stepped out of my panties and tried to insert the key into the padlock, but it didn't seem to fit. Carefully not to force it in i tried again and again but it would not fit. I checked the key and it's tag, it was the correct key but it still did not fit so i headed back into my bedroom and my bedside table. As i was standing there and looking around me wildly i heard a ringing phone. I headed out to the kitchen to where i had left the beauty box and my cellphone before i realised that the ringing came from inside my bedroom. In a daze i turned back and found a pink bedazzled new iphone in my bedside table drawer. The caller id on the phone was Master and i almost dropped the phone in chock. Shaking i answered it.
-Hello?
-You are Mine now!

hment • requests • -1

Okay, I have an unusual request;even for motherless. I want Reasonable suggestions of what I can do with my girl tonight ,June 15th,2013.I have some ideas of my own already, bbut I would like suggestions just so I can make sure to "make the most " of this opp. I mean ,the way I see it, how often will I get the chance? [*These don't have to be just sexual suggestions ,but practical ones as well.For example like "she may pass out if she's a lightweight and be hard to move around is she does" ...or ... "don't take vitamins if you want clear piss"]

Long boring story short, I've been trying for years to let me do anal and ass play on her; but her asshole and her mental state are the same....too tight. So after a lot of attempts and conversations, she actually volunteered to take a benzo{ I.e xanax/kolonpin or roofy,not sure which, but I know it has "-pam" at the end of it.so that she can be and feel looser. She got the idea after she was prescribed some recently in late 2012 then never finished the bottle.We are starting on the low end of the dose since we know too many makes her pass out like a log,haha.

Now, no doubt I'm going to stick my fingers and cock up there.....I'm even going going to TRY to cum inside her ass without a condom.We have already done pissplay (she's pee'd on me more than I have one her thought:/ ) ,so I was also thinking if I can get some wine in her too I can try to also experiment with "pushing" our pissplay to a higher level...i.e: I wanna piss on her instead of her just pissing on me.I'm just gonna go as far with it as she'll let me. I,m going to try to get some vids and pix(I'm not posting any thing unless i can keep our faces out of it) too ,at the least for my own personal use.

but up to that point , I'm out of ideas because of lack of experience with this scenario.....like how intense/foolproof is the memory loss? because I'd like to maybe not have her remember certain stuff (like me pissing on her if she objects or me doing some cross-dressing in front of her.)

So yea, in summary I am requesting:

1.practical info on what to expect from this little prescribed benzo experiment of ours 2.kinky,sexy and/or just fun (REASONABLY) fucked up stuff I can do while she's in an altered state. 3.Info on the memory loss part of someone taking a benzodiazepine ...how to predict it,how to increase it maybe? I'll try to keep y'all posted.If I get some good pix or vids,I promise to share:D

Well, I'm going to confess to you about my terrible nylon fetish, you can read this if it turns you on because this is completely true. I didn't really mean to, but I've ended up writing a lot including about the time I was raped. So, if this shit turns you on, read on, but if you're fantasising about it I don't want to know because this did happen to me and it is painful to think about.

I'm a straight male teen, but I really want some nylons to wear. I hate how my body is starting to bulk and become more triangular, I also hate my bodily hair but don't want to shave it off or i'll be made fun of. I love having long legs and want to "neutral" looking slim body for a while but can't. I actually detest the male body, including my own, which is probably the explanation for my nylon fetish.

I really want to get some new nylons, but I'm too embarrassed to buy them from a store and my mail is always intercepted before it gets to me so I can't get anything online. I hate it, the ones I have no are ripped and stretched too much and stained and don't look sexy at all. I'm considering going out of town to buy nylons and just gritting my teeth about the embarrassment.

Despite all this, I don't actually like having this fetish at all. It possesses me, I have an alter ego. I call her Jess. Jess comes out when wear nylons, or sometimes, if I smoke cannabis, I become jess for real and put on a girls voice and act very girly.

I have this terrible nylon fetish. I think I have it for these reasons:
- Both of my old sisters (12 and 15 years older than me) used to carry me around on their feet when I was little, often whilst they wore nylon. I'd straddle their feet and they would "walk" with me. I used to love the feel of their nylon. I was a strange child, I remember being 6 or 7 and writing on a board in my room about wanting to have sex with a girl in my class, and how embarrassed I was when my sister read it and then would tease me about it. I can remember one time when I was about 7, I went into my sisters bedroom when I couldn't sleep and got into the younger of my two sisters beds and began cuddling her because I wanted sex, she must have been about 16 at the time. I kissed her on the cheek a few times and put my arms around her chest telling her I was cold. Nothing happened, she just acted innocently and carried me back to my bed, sat and talked to me for a while about general stuff (i don't remember what, nothing exciting) and then gave me one of the blankets from her bed.

- I used to steal their nylons, and got caught several times. I was always told they were not for boys, and that made them strictly taboo, and therefore more exciting. When asked why I couldn't describe why, I just said "they feel nice" and that was probably all I knew, because I didn't know much about sexual feelings at all.

- I don't find men attractive. I hate the male body, including my own. I think this is probably because when I was 8, I got molested by a 13 year old boy.

I've never told anyone this in real life, but I've posted it on here a few times. This is a genuine story and I'm not getting a kick out of writing this, it's a confession, coming from one fucked up person, so you can get a look into my physce and maybe understand why I'm in the dark corners of the internet. This boy was an older brother of a friend at school. Basically, I used to see his younger brother a lot as we were close friends and he would come to my house often, nothing gay we were just friends. During the summer I had a pool in my garden and he and his older brother came round.

Well, it was warm and we were in swim shorts, and the younger brother went to the toilet inside the house. This left me and his older brother in the garden shed (it's like a summer house) with his brother and he started telling me all these secrets that his brother and had told him about me. Petty stuff, like which girls I fancied, what trouble I had been in at school - he never knew about the nylons.

This boy picked up hammer that was in the shed and then threatened me to suck his cock. He never actually hit me, and that's what I'm ashamed of, but I was young and intimidated he was overwhelming me with blackmailed. This boy rolled down his trousers and told me to suck his dick unless he wanted everyone to know my secrets. I said I didn't want to and he started shouting at me. I was in the corner of the room and I did it. I didn't cry, I didn't feel anything, I just did it. I remember that taste, it didn't feel erotic at all, it just kind of felt like a finger. I didn't pull his foreskin back and he was still flaccid or maybe a semi. He didn't cum, and only did it 3 or 4 times. Maybe I was really bad at pleasing him, or maybe he came to his senses, or maybe he was interrupted. I don't remember everything, but he laughed at me and left and said don't tell anyone about this or I'll tell everyone you're gay for sucking a cock.

He stood there laughing and then walked out the garden. I was about to burst into tears and his brother returned and asked me what happened. I said nothing happened. He really wanted to know and I just yelled at him to get lost. He and his brother left.

I really hate that guy. He got away with violating me. He's made me question my sexuality for years and he's fucked me up emotionally. What else is very annoying, is he has a beautiful, absolutely stunning, girlfriend who's 4 years younger than him.

There is no karma is this world. He's got a beautiful girlfriend, while I'm a fucking creep with trust issues, sulking in the corner of the internet, questioning my own sexuality because he ruined my childhood. I've tried to kill myself many times, and considered finding a way to take him with me, but I've never had the guts to do any of it.

I struggle to trust anyone and I hate the male phesque. It makes me question my whole sexuality because of that. Basically, I want to be a girl because I hate men, including myself. The only way I feel femine and happy is with nylon. It lets me escape who I am and I become someone else.

I have considered what it I would need to have a sex change multiple times. I don't feel like I'm close to any of my family members (not even my sisters any more, they moved out when I was about 10 and I barely see them. They probably couldn't wait to get away from me). I often think though when my parents die, I'd have a sex change. However, being exceptionally tall at approximately 6ft 4, I'd hardly pass for female.

I really don't know what I should do. I guess this is just a confession rather than a question. I full expect a bunch of perverts with no morals at all to come troll me now or to call me a fag or gay. I'd rather you didn't, but hey this is the internet and I can't physically stop you, but maybe you'd understand why I am this way.

To nearly everyone, I'm a straight attractive slim tall male who does ok in society. No one knows about my dark secrets. I don't act gay or camp, or look female at all.

I am married to a man I love, and we have been on this site, together, but I will post this, anonymously, since I am still not sure if he will understand it is him, after reading it, since I will alter some minor details, not the crucial ones, for the sake of him not realizing that this is the story about us, if he reads it.

So, we are both in our early 40's, married for a long time, and our sex life has been great. Never cheated on him, and I am pretty sure he never cheated on me.

From the wild beginnings, after having kids, and great sex life during my pregnancies, things got a little cold. We both felt it, and in an effort to spice things up, included role playing, porn, and similar stuff, into our sex life, and it worked like a charm. We are going through our second youth, and nothing to complain there.

In this quest for happiness, we tried a lots of different things, except one - I wasn't ready to do anal. He was so persistent in trying to convince me, but I stood my ground, and eventually, I think he reconciled with the idea of that not being for us. I have to admit, he was even a bit mad about it, but since have cooled off.

Now this is not much of a confession, as much as a question for all the men out there, but I will get to it, in a minute.

Maybe a year ago, we were both really drunk, after our friend's birthday, came to our room around 5 a.m. (we were all in a mountain resort for the birthday), and in the drunken rubbing and poking, I was turned to the side, as he tried to enter me. I was almost half a sleep, as I presume was he, since he was just semi hard, trying to do something. In all of that "searching", I just felt him going in, the other path. It felt bitter, and good, at the same time. I turned a little, his eyes were closed, and I am pretty sure he had no idea. It still felt good, since he was going in and out, in a slow pace, still with a semi erected penis. I guided his hand towards my clit, he poked a little, but since he was very tired, gave up after a few seconds, so I started touching myself.

What an orgasm!!!! It was so powerful. Soon after, he came inside me, and the feeling was oh, so pleasant.

Now, tomorrow I was sure he had no idea where he was, since he asked me if he came in me (I am not on the pill), and I just responded he did, but I managed that. And that was it.

I couldn't forget how great it was, but I was under the impression that, if we tried it again, sober, that it would be rough, since he is very rough, generally, and that it just won't be that good, so I kept my mouth shut. On the other side, he was so cross that I didn't let him in, before, that I was afraid he might take it the wrong way, if I suddenly, told him we did it, and that I liked it.

Fast forward to two weeks back, again, a long night, with a few drinks too many, and once again, he was too drunk to do anything specific, except to poke me and provoke me, to either take it from the side, or ride him, since there was no stamina left in him. Poking game started, once again, with two differences, this time, I wasn't that drunk like on the previous occasion, and that this time, he was as hard and long, as he can get.

He was just looking for the entrance, and this time, it wasn't an accident, I led him there. Guided his hand to my clit, and this time, he didn't quit, he touched me slowly, while going in and out, even slower. It took me just a few minutes to get off. It was a big one, lights out orgasm.

He ended soon after, but this time he pulled out.

Now, I am sure that not even this time, he realized what happened. Generally, we are very open about our sex life, with this being, maybe, our only exception.

We get to the question - should I tell him what we did, and ask him, to do it again, in the same way? Will he be mad that I like it now, but I refused him for so many years? Is it possible to have anal sex that can be pleasurable for both sides, especially since he is, whenever we are not having sex while drunk, very rough, and powerful during sex? Or should I just wait for another year or two to pass, for us to get the same conditions, to do it again?

I wrote a KotH fan fic years ago then forgot about it. Just added a part 2. Enjoy!

Nights in Arlen
A KotH sex story
By: null

It was about 9:30 PM on a Tuesday night in Arlen, TX. Luanne Platter and her friend Jaime are sat on Jaime’s 2nd floor apartment balcony. Not a big place at all but Jaime kept it clean and welcoming. Hot but with a nice breeze blowing, the two of them are in shorts and sneakers. Luanne decided on a black bra and white tank top for her visit. Jaime’s was the last place on earth where Luanne felt comfortable and somewhat normal. Jaime has on a hoody but her D breasts are not easily stashed away.

“It’s getting late Jaime… I have to go soon” said Luanne as she tapped out another cigarette from her friends pack, her 3rd that hour.
“Do you want to go to Sugarfoots tomorrow? I’ll give you a ride. I definitely saw a ‘help wanted’ sign. They would hire you in a second!” said Jaime, Luanne’s friend of a few years. Not as pretty as Luanne but built the same way and on par mentally.
“I don’t know. I guess. I hate waiting tables. It’s like being a servant. You have to be happy when you’re really not.”
Luanne was visibly troubled and her friend was getting worried. Luanne had been broken up with Lucky for two months. Even before her and Lucky hit the rough patch that led to their parting ways her attitude had been different. Not the happy, blissfully clueless, piece of southern thickness those who know her have come to expect and love. These last few months she’s always seemed preoccupied and when questioned dismissive and distant.
“Luanne, what’s wrong? You’re not being Luanne. Are you still hung up on Lucky?” asked Jaime.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Jaime.”
Jaime grew worried and decided to change the subject.
“So do you want to go to Luke’s Saturday night? He and his friends are crazy! We need to just wear next to nothing, go there, and show off. Then leave early. They’ll be so about us then we’ll just leave!” Jaime envisioned their victory and laughed. Her chest bouncing as she didn’t have any support on.
“I don’t know, maybe.” Luanne responded, blankly, as she finished another of her friend’s cigarettes.
Jaime was sure a wild night of flirting and showing off followed by an abrupt departure would be just what Luanne needed to get her back on the right track. She felt accomplished already. In the way that she and Luanne’s type often do as they envision their future through rose colored glasses.
“Alright, I gotta go. So you can give me a ride tomorrow?” asked Luanne, with a curious increase in vocal energy that Jaime could not explain.
“Anytime, just call. I’m off all day.”
Luanne made eye contact with Jaime for the first time in 15 minutes.
“You’re the best” said Luanne.
Jaime felt sad at that moment. It confused her as this small compliment should have lit her up. It didn’t and it was the way Luanne said it. As if it meant something more than a simple thank you. She stood up and squeezed Luanne tight. Their breasts each flowing outward as they tried to escape the pressure of the embrace.
“I love you girl… you know that right?” asked Jaime.
“Yea, I love you too Jaime. Mind if I take a cig for my walk home?”
“Take them. I have a carton in the fridge.”
“Thanks” Luanne responded, relieved. She squeezed back to equal Jaime’s embrace.

---

As Luanne walked home one thought, and one thought alone, was dominating her. She literally had to shake her head once in an attempt to push it away. The wind was calmer now. It was summer so kids were out playing hide and go seek. She saw a young boy find and start chasing a younger girl. The young girl was laughing uncontrollably as the boy tackled her onto the grass. Luanne was struck with a profound feeling of nostalgia. As she watched her steps she reminisced on her summer nights as a young girl running from boys. She tossed a cigarette butt into a drain. She crossed her arms under her breasts and her cleavage grew. The good memories of summers past were distorted then gone, replaced by a knot in her stomach. She had begun to hate her body. She hated that her breasts were so big. At one time they were such a source of confidence and pride. Now they disgusted her. As she thought about this she almost wanted to uncross her arms as she could not even stand indirectly touching them. She hated her golden blonde hair. A feature all of her girlfriends constantly said they wished they could have. “You can fucking have it” she thought. Anymore she just wore it in a lazy pony-tail. She hated her thick, round, protruding ass. Something most girls would hate but she loved once upon a time. An asset guys in her area were most keen on. She knew what she had and she flaunted it. Now, it was most decidedly a hate filled relationship. With her chest she could cover up, which she did when she was anywhere but at Jaime’s. But with her ass there was nothing she could do. All of her clothes were what they were. Short, tight, or revealing. In most cases all of the above. As she thought about her wardrobe she began to hate the girl she used to be. This caused her to tear up a little as the thought of hating ones younger and more innocent self is tremendously complicated and confusing. Luanne would never think on that sort of ‘meta’ level but she did know what she felt and it was weird. As she turned down the alley behind Rainy Street her steady pace was significantly slowed as her eyes met the yellow walls of the Hill residence off in the distance. Red truck parked in the driveway. For a second all thoughts and feelings were absent as if she were a deer in headlights. Slowly a feeling of dread surrounded her. She had been down this alley hundreds of times. If she had any talent in her hands she could draw it from memory. That said, for the past few months it has felt absolutely alien to her. She tightened the cross under her pale, ample boobs and began the final trek home. She was sick to her stomach now. She felt sweat beginning to accrue on her forehead. Her jaw was tight. Her hands were clenched. This all became apparent at once as she landed her first step on the driveway.
“Luanne!”
She felt as if she was hit on the back of her head as all the feeling of the past minute was instantly gone.
“Luanne look!”
She turned and looked towards the sound of her name. Bobby and Joseph were running toward her. Bobby was holding something in his hands.
“Bobby, what?” Luanne called out half in a daze having come from the mind state she was in.
“It’s a frog we found down by the Johnsons pond. Look how big it is!” Bobby cried.
Bobby and Joseph arrived at where Luanne was standing sweating and dirty. In Bobby’s hands was a rather massive green frog.
“Bobby that’s gross” Luanne said half aware.
“Do you think Dad will let it in the house?”
Luanne felt a quick jolt of electricity shoot from her head to her toes when Bobby mentioned him.
“I don’t know Bobby. Maybe you should let Joseph keep it tonight and find out in the morning. He might be sleeping” Said Luanne with ulterior motives for keeping him unbothered if at all possible.
Suddenly aware that he’s been mentioned by Luanne Joseph’s gaze was broken away from her thick round ass.
“Yea, my dad won’t care!” he stammered trying not to lose the image of Luanne’s deeply defined ass crack and underwear lines in her tight red cotton shorts.
“OK, Joseph. We can keep it at your house. But if my dad says it’s OK he’s moving in tomorrow! Now come on your mom got us hot pockets for the sleep over!” Bobby cried.
They both ran off towards Dale’s house. Joseph clumsily looking back at Luanne then disappearing behind his dads minivan. Luanne felt sick again as a result of seeing the dead insect on Dales truck. “He’s gross” she thought as she considered the type of guy who would have that on his truck. Then she turned and walked towards the sliding glass doors. Now sick to her stomach for another reason.

---

The light were on but nobody was in the kitchen. The thought had occurred to her to rip one final cigarette before she went in but at this point was numb and plus Aunt Peggy didn’t want her sneaking cigarettes in the back yard anymore. The numbness was slightly lessened at the thought of Aunt Peggy. Basically Luanne’s mom now she felt close to her but more on a friendship level. She thought Aunt Peggy was one of the most intelligent people in the world even though most of the world thought, while friendly in her own way, she was an over confident windbag. Suddenly Luanne became aware she was standing at the sliding glass door looking into the house but unable to open the door. She was temporarily frozen in time as she neither wanted to go in nor continue to stand there looking like a weirdo. As she began to raise her hand to the door the light went off in the kitchen. Luanne stood there with her hand on the door handle for a few seconds. Then she slowly opened it. There was no risk of creaking or grinding as he kept everything in perfect working order. This thought caused knot to return. She slowly closed the door behind her and locked it. As she walked to the doorway to the living room she could hear Aunt Peggy talking to herself. Something about “fixing something when he should be in bed”. The acute awareness that often goes with sneaking around suddenly fell out of her. Numbness was all that was left. He was awake. In the garage. The sweat returned to her forehead. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to talk to Aunt Peggy in this state so she waited in the dark kitchen until she heard Aunt Peggy in her bedrooms bathroom then slipped into her bedroom. She shut the door and leaned against it. No lock on the door. There used to be one until a few months ago. She started crying quietly. She sat down on her bed and took her shoes off. She had white ankle socks on with pink paws dotted throughout. She peeled off her red shorts and dropped them into her hamper. The white cotton underwear matched her socks. She slipped on Jaime’s Arlen High sweatpants and got under her covers. She felt exhausted from the mental anguish of the past hour. Foolishly she held onto a single hope as she always did at this moment. Laying on her side in her room in his house she hazily stared at the clock on her night stand. Cigarette smoke and winterfresh gum on her breath. The clock read 10:32 PM…

>Part 2<

There was a tap at the window. Luanne cast a hazy look towards the sound.
“Luanne!”
She had not gained focus yet as she slowly rolled to a seated position and rubbed her eyes.
“Luanne! It’s Lucky! Come to the window.”
The voice of her ex-boyfriend somehow filled her with joy. She walked over to the window.
“Luanne… I’m an idiot. I nearly lost the best thing in my life. And for what? A bunch of losers? I need you back, Luanne. Will you come away with me?”

Luanne was filled with warmth and hope. She climbed out the window and into Lucky’s outstretched arms. He ran with her to his 4x4 and shut the door. Luanne was absolutely beaming. She was about to crank up the radio when she noticed the display looked weird. It looked like a digital clock. Slowly but deliberately her dream faded and she returned to reality. She had been looking at her clock. 11:17 PM…

As the hope and joy of her dream melted away it was replaced by the cold dread of her dark bedroom. As her mind made the transition she leaned up. There was light coming from underneath the door way. He was still awake. Luanne sat frozen. Listening for any sound. She thought she could hear something but then realized it was her own heartbeat. Pounding in her chest.

“Calm down, Luanne” she thought to herself. “He just forgot to turn off the light.” She could hope.

As she continued to sit there in silence a lack of any sound had a calming effect. Was she in the clear? The second she allowed her anxiety to relent she heard the garage door open. A cold pall was cast over her. Her only reaction was to silently lay back down and curl up. Her pounding heart the singular focus. As it began to echo in her ears all fell silent when she heard her door open. No sound. No feeling. Only the black of her eyelids. It felt like hours to Luanne before she heard her door close. As she listened to him walk to her bedside the chill turned to the feeling of insects crawling up her back. It was all she could do to not physically brush away the feeling he had draped upon her. Heart pounding again.
He stood at her bedside for a full minute. Looking at his prize. The line of her ample body causing his manhood to press against his jeans. He took one final swig from his Alamo can and put it on her bed table. Luanne heard the jangle of his belt as he removed his pants. As ants on her back were now biting her the knowledge of what was about to happen nearly drove her to vomit. She swallowed hard as he slunk under her blanket and pressed his throbbing dick against her. He wrapped his arms around her stomach and began to grind into her large ass. It was at this time that the cold sweat came and all feeling was gone. If Luanne had a mind she would understand that this was a defense mechanism to help her cope with the extreme nature of her predicament. But alas, she does not. However, what was undeniable was the feeling of nothingness that washed over her. He was now holding her hips as he pressed his penis in-between her legs as best as he could while still clothed. He liked the pressure. After a few minutes, another pressure was too much to bear. He removed his boxers. Slid her sweat pants down to her knees and placed his throttled member in-between the soft upper part of her thick thighs. He could feel the involuntary wetness develop through her white cotton panties as he started to dry hump her. Luanne could smell the mixture of his constant bad breath and stale Alamo beer creep down her face as he began to lick her neck and ear. She began to tear up as his hands moved across her stomach to her breasts. He began to fondle her breasts over the bra. As he kneaded her breasts he began to moan in her ear.

“I love you, Luanne” he stammered out as he continued his assault.

The mixture of precum and pussy juice had become audible with his thrusts. Sensing he was close he slowed down. He ran his hands over her stomach back to her thighs. He rubbed them over then moved one hand down to her pussy. The fact that the whole area was moist filled his entire being with excitement and a warped sense of connection to Luanne. “She is enjoying this” he thought to himself. He gently pushed her to the side as he removed her sweatpants and panties. As he laid back down beside her flat on his back he took a deep whiff of the mess she had made in her panties. The unmistakable smell filled him with carnal lust. He adjusted so that he was sitting with his back to the head board and she was sat in-between his legs facing away.

“Luanne? Luanne… are you awake?” he whispered.
Luanne began to cry. The soft whimpers driving Hank Hill to near sexual insanity. He gathered himself.
“Luanne… hold your arms up.” A request that was always made and never followed.

He removed her shirt unassisted and pulled her towards him so that she was sitting on top of his engorged member. Driving it into her mattress. Softly he draped his hands over the top of her breasts and moved up and down over her bra. Hank liked the last little barrier. Soon it was more than he could take. He pushed her forward slightly and unclasped her bra. He moved the straps off her shoulders but was careful not to let it fall off the front. In one fluid motion, he moved his hands from the top of her breasts down. The bra fell to her lap and he fondled her heavy breasts. His fingers rising one by one as he dragged them over her large puffy nipples. Her whimpers became quiet crying. After a few minutes of groping her chest and kissing her neck one of his hands came up to wipe her tears. Her whole face was covered. This made Hank insatiable. He gently twisted her head to the side and began licking the tears from her cheek. Moved to the other side and cleaned that as well. The stink of his drying saliva altering Luanne’s perception. The salty taste in his mouth was the limit. He pushed her slightly forward at the hips and his dick popped straight up. He spun her around so that she was facing him, put her lifeless arms over his shoulders, and pulled her into him. Her chubby pussy lips were now wrapped around the base of his shaft. The heat from it surprised him. He began to involuntarily grind into her. Luanne was looking down, eyes closed, sobbing. Tears dripping from the bottom of her chin onto her breasts. He placed his hands on the side of her face and pulled up. Her eyes would not meet his.

“Luanne? Uncle Hank loves you. You know that, right?”
Luanne answered with question with more quiet crying.
“Luanne? I don’t want to hurt you. I want to love you. You’ll let me love you, right?”

He did not wait for an answer as his putrid tongue was thrust into her mouth. He began to grunt has his tongue made love to her throat. He had now moved his hands down to her ass cheeks so he could slide her dripping wet cunt up and down his shaft.

“Oh god, Luanne” he stammered as he began to feast on her neck and chin.

It was in this moment that awareness clumsily returned to her. It had never gone this far before. Never this intense. Luanne bravely ventured a quick a look into his eyes and he was not there. They were lifeless. Like a dolls eyes. She had to do something. She had to make a decision. To save the one shred of dignity she had left…

As he was mindlessly grinding her and the pace quickened she whispered, “…Uncle Hank?”

The sound of her whisper somehow shattered through him as he looked up at her.

“Uncle Hank…” she whimpered as she gulped down the putrid mix of his saliva and hers, face breaking out because of all his bacteria.
“…I’ll love you back if you’ll let me, Uncle Hank.”
The statement threw Hank Hill’s mentality for a loop. As he searched for words he noticed her arms slightly tighten behind his neck. It was all he could do to speak.
“How do you want to love me, Luanne?” he asked as he slowly began to grind again.
“Like this…” and with that she began to slowly counter his gyrations.

At this point Luanne stopped crying. Any thought aside from the void caused from being molested by her uncle was a light in the darkness.
Effecting an innocent Texas twang as best she could she asked, “Can we ‘jus rub ‘em together? As she softly but assuredly began to pick up the pace. All in the hope that agreeable vulnerability would calm his carnal lust.

Normally, this is not how Hank Hill operates He needs absolute control. Absolute dominance. But the magnitude of her request had pierced him. Had he finally broken her? These “sessions” have been escalating and getting dangerous. If she had succumbed to him, he had to play his hand right so he didn’t upset the delicate balance.

“Yes, baby. We can.” He answered as he slid down flat on his back.

Luanne wiped her nose with her arm, leaned forward over her uncle so that her heavy breasts were hanging down over him, and began working her hips. Slowly grinding her cunt up and down the length of her uncle’s big dick. Hank Hill had left himself again. Only this time he was in a haze of infatuation. Secure in the fact that he had broken her. She was his. He reached up and cupped her breasts in his hands. Pulled her down slightly and began to suck on her puffy nipples. Popping them as he released her large areolas. As he was tonguing her breasts the sickness returned to Luanne. As with any trauma, being present in the moment invites the pain to come rushing in. She had to end this quickly. She began to roll her wide hips and press down into her uncle’s rock hard erection. Suddenly he stopped sucking her breasts. She cast a quick glance at her uncle and his eyes were closed. He began to gyrate into her deliberately. He grabbed her large warm ass cheeks with his hands and pressed her into him even harder.

Her uncle breathlessly spoke, “Oh baby. Keep loving me.”
His ass was now rising off the bed as his pelvis lifted her with each thrust. So much so that she had fallen forward and they were chest to chest.
“Oh Luanne… oh, God! I’m cumming baby!” he choked out as four ropes of her uncles hot cum forced its way in-between them.

Involuntarily, Luanne rose up off him and the cum began to drop down her stomach. As it began to reach the top of her pussy she cupped in with her hand. She looked at her uncle. His eyes were closed and he had a tired smile on his face. She stayed straddling him. Afraid to move. She silently moved her hand up her stomach to get the rest of her uncle’s sperm off her body and into her hand then wiped it into the comforter. As she did that he looked up at her.

“You’ve made your uncle very happy, Luanne.”

And with that he leaned off her bed. Bent down and put on his jeans. The reality of watching him put on his jeans. The hairy legs and the jangle of the buckle was too much for Luanne. The vomit rushed up her throat and into her mouth. She clenched her lips as tight as she could. Mercifully, her uncle did not look back and silently left her room. Luanne stayed motionless on her knees on the bed. Nose and eyes running from the acidic vomit that had filled her mouth. She listened as she heard the familiar sounds of his “after session” bathroom sounds. As she heard the click of their bedroom door she rushed to the window, threw it open, and let the vomit shoot out of her mouth. Two more rushes after that. When she was done she dropped to her knees and openly wept in the corner of her room. The confusion of what had happened. The absolute disgust at what she did to avoid worse. The panging dread at what she would have to do in the future. All this mental anguish was cascading over her and breaking her soul.

After a few minutes, she got up from the floor. She put on her sweatpants. “Jaime” she thought hazily as the tears rolled down her face. Slunk to the bathroom and showered. Slunk back to her bedroom. Ripped all the blankets and pillows off her bed then laid down in her towel.

As she regained focus she saw the can of Alamo on her night stand. She smashed if off and saw her clock.

12:31 AM.

To be continued.

In mid-May, I took a road trip to SW Minnesota to visit my long-time FWB. We've spent long weekends together in the past, going back to the fall of 2013, but this was the first time I'd be staying at her place -- a double-wide trailer outside a small Minnesota town of about 15,000. It was our first meeting since October 2021. In the interim her dog had died, she'd dumped a "boy toy" 30 years her junior, suffered a hysterectomy, and was taking medication to help her cope with her agoraphobia (fear of public places). In past years, we'd always met at a hotel or Airbnb in the Twin Cities, about a two-hour drive from her place, so this would be quite a departure (venue-wise) from our standard weekend fuck fest.

She's exactly 20 years younger than I am (minus four days!), a natural redhead (my Scandinavian princess!), extremely bi-sexual (her words), and clearly the hottest woman I've been with sexually. I'm constantly amazed at her interest in me, since I'm a lot older, not particularly good-looking, about 25 pounds overweight, and definitely NOT hung. But every time we're together, she's really happy to spend time with me. On more than one occasion she's said, "I feel smarter when I'm with you." I guess that's a good thing.

I got to town on Sunday morning and came by her place at 10:00. T was dressed in a t-shirt and yoga pants, with bare feet. She's a night-owl, whereas I'm definitely a morning person. In fact, one of the first things we talked about when I got to her place -- just outside town in a fairly rural area -- was our circadian incompatibility. As I was making buttermilk pancakes for us (from scratch!), I said, "You know, we'd never be compatible enough to live together, since you're up 'til all hours and I'm in bed by 10:00." It was a nonsense issue, anyway, since she'd never move to Denver (her daughter and grandson are 10 minutes away), and there's no way I'd willingly move to where she lives. Oh -- and another complication involves the fact that I'm married (although she thinks my wife is actually my lesbian roommate, and thankfully they've never met).

Interestingly, she countered my "couldn't live together" statement with a surprising suggestion. "Well," she said, coming up behind me and pressing her braless breasts against my back as I was mixing pancake batter. "We could always compromise. You could stay up until 11, I'd get up at 8, and we could have sex at night, instead of in the morning when you seem to be at your horniest." I followed up with, "Every night?" She replied, "I suppose, five out of seven."

She was unnecessarily self-conscious about her appearance, which is why she spent most of the time we were together in fairly baggy tops and long pants in place of shorts. At 5'5, she'd always weighed around 110-115 pounds, but after taking anti-depressants to help with her agoraphobia, she'd gained about 30 pounds. "One bonus, I guess," she declared ironically, "Is that I'm a 36C or D instead of a 32B, but now the only bras that fit me right are sports bras." I told her multiple times during my visit that I thought she looked as desirable as ever, but she wasn't entirely buying it.

We spent the rest of Sunday checking out the town (such as it is) and had dinner at an Italian restaurant before going to a newly opened ice cream shop for dessert. Back at her place, she fired up a bong with some home-grown ganja (it's legal in Minnesota) and enticed me to take a few hits as well. One thing about T -- getting high means getting horny, and she didn't spare the smoke. It was my first foray since college, and she thought it was HILARIOUS that I hadn't indulged in close to 50 years. However, it seemingly had no effect on me, which she found equally funny. We ended up watching a PBS special on the life and times of Richard III of England, which apparently was much more entertaining for her in her altered state.

After a shower, I put on some short summer PJs and climbed into bed. She joined me about 10 minutes later wearing a different baggy t-shirt and long-leg pajama bottoms. She again expressed her displeasure with her weight gain, explained she hadn't had sex since New Year's Eve (the boy toy's final campaign, as it turned out), and stated she wasn't ready to "do anything" with me. I knew she'd consumed a fair amount of silly smoke, but I truthfully told her I was OK with that and didn't want to pressure her into anything. She switched off the light, and I figured that was that.

After about five minutes, she asked, "Are you asleep?" At the moment I was semi-hard and trying to figure out how I could jerk off without disturbing her. When I told her I was still awake, she asked, "Would you like a hand job?" Naturally I said yes, stripping off my PJ bottoms and tossing back the covers to give her all the access she required. She reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a tube of lube, spreading it generously on my cock-head and down the shaft before taking a firm grip and stroking me with precision. After a minute or so, she asked, "Does that feel good?" I said, "T, my love, whenever a woman has her hand on a guy's dick, that is a question that never needs to be asked!" She laughed and rested her head on my chest as she continued to stroke earnestly.

Curled up against me as she was, I managed to reach down behind her and slide my hand between her thighs. I wasn't sure she'd let me continue to rub her PJ-covered crotch, but she shifted around to give me better access, so I kept up the pressure. One thing about T -- she goes from zero to 60 faster than a tricked-out Shelby GT. I had her squirming, humping against my hand, and moaning loudly in less than two minutes. Without warning, her mouth engulfed my cock and she was delivering a very satisfactory blow job. I slid my hand inside her pajama bottoms and discovered how wet she was. I quickly had two fingers fully inside her pussy, and her vocalization was suddenly louder and about an octave higher. After a brief minute, she declared, "You just HAVE to fuck me!" Pulling away from me momentarily, she stripped off her PJs and climbed aboard. I was rock-hard and slid inside her with ease. Despite her surgeries a year earlier, she was still as tight as I'd remembered. T loves to be on top, and she was soon grinding her clit against me as she rocked back and forth on my cock.

I wanted to take off her top, but she resisted by saying, "No -- don't!" Instead, I pushed the hem of her t-shirt up above her breasts and tugged on her nipples. That trigged the first of what would prove to be dozens of orgasms that night, as she moaned, grunted, breathed hard, muttered "Oh, fuck" about 50 times, and bent down to kiss me with a ferocity I'd rarely experienced with any woman. After she worked herself into a second orgasm, T climbed off and rolled onto her back. That was my cue to do what I do best -- eat pussy. For the next 60-75 minutes, I had her quivering, crying out obscenities, shaking like a leaf, and coming again and again. The next morning, when I questioned whether she'd enjoyed what was close to a three-hour session, she struck back with my own logic. "When a guy with your skills has his mouth on a woman's clit and his fingers massaging every inch of the inside of her vagina, that's a question you never need to ask!"

Following wave after wave of orgasms, T pushed my face away from her crotch and asked, "Zac, you still hard?" I'd been grinding my erection firmly into her mattress the entire time I was eating her pussy, and it hadn't abated. "You bet," I replied enthusiastically, which was a surprise since it was close to 2 a.m., well past my normal bedtime. "You need to fuck me some more. You can come inside, since I have no more womb." I reminded her I'd had a vasectomy decades ago, at which point she said, "Oh, that's right. Well, what are you waiting for?" She rolled flat on her back and spread her legs wide apart before tugging on my erection and saying, "C'mon, shove it right in." And so I did.

When I was in my 20s and 30s, I suffered from a fairly quick trigger, ejaculation-wise. Now in my early 70s -- and really for the past 10-15 years -- it always takes me a long time to come, but I rarely if ever have difficulty getting and staying hard. Such was the case that night, as I fucked her insistently. She wrapped her legs around me and crossed her ankles to provide some leverage as she tugged me toward her, stroke after stroke. My arms were tiring from propping up my 225-pound body above her, and I started to make a move to disengage so I could find a less stressful position and then re-insert. She sensed I was about to climb off when she pulled me down against her chest and whispered in my ear, "You're not heavy. Just keep fucking me until you come." Who was I to argue with that? At this point she was well into double-digit orgasms, and figuring I'd done all I could to make her feel special, it was time to look after my own release. I let my mind focus on one thing -- the feeling in my cock as it was being gripped by T's pussy. Something like a dozen thrusts later, I froze up and pumped her full of man-jizz (that's what she likes to call it). I was exhausted and let my body press fully against hers. "Get off me, ya big lug!" she called out, half-jokingly, and I withdrew and rolled onto my side of the bed. "I suppose you want me to clean that up?" she asked, scooping up a drop of cum from the tip of my cock with her index finger before putting it into her mouth. "Well," I suggested, "You clean me up and I'll return the favor." "Nah, it's too late," T responded. "You stay there, and I'll bring back a washcloth."

She returned a few minutes later with the promised rag, moistened with warm water, and proceeded to mop up my crotch. "I can't believe how much you came in me," she said. "What -- you were saving it up for a special occasion?" I declared there was no more special occasion for me than being in her bed, which prompted a sensuous kiss on the lips and a "Oh, you're such a sweet-talker!" I was out like a light in less than two minutes, I'm sure, and we slept in until 10:30 the next morning. I awoke before she did (that's almost always the case), and after visiting the bathroom to pee, I came back to bed and tried to get her in the mood for some morning sex. After putting up with my hand rubbing her snatch through the PJs she'd put back on after we'd finished, she pushed me away and said, "Don't! My pussy's sore and I'll need all day to recover." That sounded like a good indicator for what might take place when next we went to be, and indeed it was. To be continued -----

I confess that I could whoop anyone's ass who reads this. I am 6'1 and I am 196 pounds of rock hard muscle. It wouldn't be anything for me to get up from breakfast, whoop an ass and go sit back down and eat a sausage link. I have black belts in Aikido, Jujitsu, Tae Kwon Do and KARATE. I've done so much black contract CIA stuff that I don't even have a Social Security number and my finger prints have been surgically altered. I am the American Ninja and I have a phd in badass, fuck with me and you are fucking yourself.

Ok so I want to confess that I have a side to me that none of my friends or family have seen. It started a few years ago but it's slowly getting worse. I can't wait to move away so I can't start a new life and be who I really want to be. I know for sure my friends and family would not approve. It all started as fantasy but I've started experiencing being really slurry. Which is the way I want to be, a big slut. I get so turned on by random men and strangers. I don't think all women feel this way but I'm sure some do. Just not my friends lol.

I'll give you a few examples. Um so little things do it for me and spark my interests. A few days ago I just finished my run and I was walking back to the house. A car full of guys maybe in their 30s drove by and all yelled at me. They were yelling things like nice ass, nice legs and something about how ahort my shorts are. Imeduatly I got so freaking horny I wanted that car to turn around, them pick me up, take me back to their place, and all have sex with me. I was so freaking hott over it. Seems a bit silly but I was.

Also I've started dressing a bit more slurry to get more attention. Sometimes I'll bring a change of clothes with me so the ppl I'm with don't freak. As soon as they are gone I'll change into this alter ego. Anyways in sick of typing but I have never posted here and thought it might be a good way to get some feed back. What do you pol think? Am I crazy lol. Anyways nice ppl only please. Not looking to talk to ppl who Wana tell me to go kill myself hehe. I've seen those comments left on here lol k thanks love ya bye

I really wish I could find a gay Dom Top to take me and use me for his pleasure. To keep me as his personal sex slave and make me into what ever he wants me to be in order to please him.
I am 43 years old, 5’10”, 250 lbs, white, red hair, green eyes, no tattoos or piercings but willing to be altered in any way my Master wishes.
I enjoy older men, and like the idea of being owed by an older, or black man.
The only thing I ask is that you pick me up near Cincinnati OH.

i am shure that a young guy who could be her son or a very old man who could be her dad could the big cellulite ass from my mature wife real hard fuck .

Ich bin mir sicher, dass ein junger Boy , der ihr Sohn , oder ein sehr alter Mann, der ihr Vater sein könnte , den großen , geilen Cellulite Hintern von meinem reifen Frau wirklich hart durchficken und vollspritzen könnte.