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My name is Debra; I’m 33 and married to a sweet and kind guy named Robert Angel. Yeah, Angel. When I found that out I couldn’t believe it, especially as it described his role in my life perfectly.

I dropped out of college after 2 years of drugs, dick and booze and very little study. I spent the rest of my 20s in a similar stupor, supported by petty theft and leeching off parents and friends, only interested in the next hit or the next guy supposed to have a huge cock.

A couple of years ago my long-suffering parents persuaded me back into rehab for the tenth time. Instead of lasting the usual 3 days before sucking off the dyke janitor in return for a few pills as I’d done the last time, I got through to the end of program. I got through because of a kind man in his 50s who had been struggling with his own alcohol problems since his wife died.

One year later I was still clean and we were talking about marriage. Unfortunately Robert hadn’t much interest in sex, or maybe fortunately, as though he was a kind and decent man, he wasn’t what you’d call a panty-soaker. My own sex drive was going through the roof as my body got rid of all the crap I had filled it with, and I seemed to spend most of my time gawping at one studly piece of ass after another with my tongue hanging out – making sure that Robert didn’t notice, of course.

He’d got me a job as a secretary at the company he owned and it was pretty difficult to keep my hands off the post-boys and maintenance workers who seemed to be buff to a man, and prone to avoid underwear in the summer. One day I was introduced to an intern/ delivery boy named David, aged 19 and a college basketball player. Delivery boys and girls wore shorts and t-shirts, and most of the hotter ones preferred them a couple of sizes too small, probably so they could enjoy the lecherous leering of the older men and women on the permanent staff. The shorts that David wore kept my clit wiggling in my panties all summer, particularly as he illegal bahis used to stop in front of my desk all the time, letting me have a close-up of the outline of his fat teenage dick. He usually had a contemptuous grin on his face so I guessed he knew what he was doing – he probably thought I was just another horny old lady who couldn’t keep her eyes above waist level.

I spent a lot of time bruising my granite-hard clit in the employee bathroom that summer.

Once it was clear that Robert had been advised by his lawyers to get a prenup, I had a decision to make. I guess I’d assumed that a rich, comfortable, but sex-free life with Robert would have space for a little action on the side to keep my pussy happy. Robert was a kind man and I thought he would understand….But now I realized that it was celibacy or back to my old, crappy life. If I risked it just for some dick I’d regret it for the rest of my life. And as I cared a lot about Robert, I didn’t want to hurt him.

Robert had mentioned during rehab that he had an 18 year old son. I hadn’t really thought much about it as I assumed he would be off to college soon. The day we had arranged to meet him I’d been feeling especially horny. I’d gone with an old college friend to a strip-club the night before and we’d spent a few sticky hours ogling the awesome meat on display. Afterwards, I’d been itching to get back to my little apartment to jerk off like a monkey on crystal meth when Judy pulled me over to a table where they were selling videos of the dancers’ routines.

“Hey ladies. How about it? Fifty minutes of Donkey Man; more tube stake than you could ever get down; much harrrrder than his live performances!”

“Come on! I’ll treat you. If you’re marrying this guy you’ll need some jerk-off material, girl!”

“Shhh! You’re so fucking disgusting!” I giggled.

That night I almost rubbed my clit right off. The routines on the video were the most disgusting I’d ever seen, and I’d been going illegal bahis siteleri to strip shows since I was a panting 14 year old with a fake ID and twenty bucks for the doorman. By the end ‘Donkey Man’ was covered in his own cum and I was awash with womb-juice.

So I was pretty keyed up when I met Chad, though I probably would have creamed my panties anyway as Chad turned out to be nothing like his dad. I had to retract my tongue from the floor as a 6’3″ teen god came out of the house to greet us. He had on what looked like a wrestler’s singlet which did nothing to hide his fabulous upper body. A six-pack led down to a narrow waist and just below it lolled an huge, unfettered dream of a teen cock. The kind of cock that must have his teachers scuttling off to the ladies room during lessons.

‘Oh shit!’ I thought, this is going to be hell-on-earth if I have to live with this walking clit-stiffener.

After we had gotten married, it turned out that Chad was going to cause problems in other ways too. Like a lot of teenagers, I guess, he was lazy, arrogant and slobby. He never picked up his room and always made a huge mess no matter what he did, even the simple act of making a bowl of cereal (when he couldn’t persuade me to do it) resulted in post-twister destruction in the kitchen.

Considering his panty-wetting appearance, it wasn’t surprising he attracted a lot of female attention. As he was still a young boy he was pretty poor at telling if a girl was honestly fond of him or trying to use him. I had to throw out a lot of little skanks who were more interested in getting both sets of lips round his meat than in him as a person, or so it seemed to me.

One bitch named Cindy, a bubble-blonde who smiled sweetly at my husband one minute then gawped with slack-jawed lust at his son the next, decided to fight back in a way that terrified the shit out of me.

“What’s the matter, mommy?” she sneered as I was escorting her out the door by the canlı bahis siteleri scruff of the neck. “Want to keep our stud-muffin for yourself? Dirty mommy.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen you bitch, checking out the goodies. Keep jerking off, mommy, that’s the closest you’ll get to a taste. And believe me, it tastes good”

With that she combined the sneer with an exaggerated licking of her lips.

Oh fuck! if this little bitch had noticed then I was in big trouble. I had promised myself that I would try to treat Chad like a son, but it didn’t help that he spent most of the time at home wandering round half-naked. I promised myself that he wouldn’t creep into my jerk-off fantasies, but soon I needed to make extra trips to the bathroom just to avoid creaming my jeans.

It also didn’t help my permanent wide-on that most of Chad’s school friends were as buff as he was. Four or five hard-bodies teenagers, practising wrestling throws while almost naked had me as hot as the summer I spent at my Uncle’s farm when I was fourteen, surrounded by five twenty-something boys doing sweaty farmwork. A summer full of muscles gleaming, exciting male smells and sudden glimpses of ass-cheek and cockhead through half-open bathroom or bedroom doors. I spent most of that summer with my jeans and pink bunny-panties around my ankles in the upstairs bathroom trying to sooth my panting pussy. I was doing the same now.

Disaster struck on an evening when Robert was away on business. Chad had, as usual, been wandering around semi-naked and I was tempted to go upstairs for another session with one of his used jocks. To my shame I had started to use them when jerking off, just to get a hit of the male pheromones I was missing so badly. I had been drinking and was feeling a bit sorry for myself, when suddenly, through the alcoholic haze, I saw a vision of a perfect pair of male cheeks. Before I knew what I was doing I had given them a squeeze.

“What are you doing, you dirty, fucking bitch?” said Brad, sobering me up straight away.

Oh Shit!! Visions of getting kicked out of my beautiful home rose before me as I ran upstairs. Shit! Molesting his son! Robert’s gonna kick me out on my ass! Fuck!

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