Ladies, this is the place for your own special brand of confession. Did you sleep with your best friend's boyfriend? Did your Aunt Flo visit unexpectedly while you were wearing white pants? Did your boyfriend lose a condom inside you? Is there a burning sex question you'd like to ask that only a woman would understand? This is the place. The things you can confess here might fall into other sections, too - but here you have your own place to post. After all, this section is ..for Women Only.

My First Older Guy

I had been dating on and off and it was always guy my age. For the most part the sex was good but they just never took things to serious.

So when I turned 28 back in March I joked that I wanted an older guy just for sex. I didn’t want a relationship. Just sex and the occasional eating out would be fine with me.

I didn’t look for an older guy. One just happened to stumble upon me. I work in an er as a rn. So I see lots of people daily. And one day a sales guy was there.

Good looking guy. I thought he was maybe in his 40s but i found out he’s in his 50s.

One thing lead to another and I ended up sucking his dick in his suv on my lunch break. Nice thick shaved cock in his pants. I was surprised it was shaved and how nice it was.

After swallowing his load he wrote down his number and his address telling me he’d like to see more of me.

A week later and I’m at his house on a Saturday night getting fucked on his couch in his living room. The sex was so good. It was just what I wanted.

And ever since the we have fairly regularly sex. Finally I’m putting my iud to use lol.

  • Didn’t Know About Uncircumcised

    I’ll admit I grew up kinda sheltered. Homeschooled and a church going farming family. But that didn’t stop me from having sex

    I started giving head at 16 to a friend down the road. Same age as me and we actually had quite a bit of sex. Definitely got lots of practice

    By the time I was at college I knew how to suck well and I definitely had a slut phase in college. My body count is fairly high. I loved sucking dick and when the opportunity presented itself I would let any guy fuck me

    Then at 23 I took a trip to Germany. I met a handsome fit buff man and obviously I wanted to suck his dick. Not only was I surprised by how big his dick was I was shocked by the extra skin!

    I didn’t know guys could have foreskin. I was used to circumcised guys which I thought all men were just cut naturally.

    He laughed when I told him I had never seen extra skin. He told me you’re used to American cock. He told me to pull the skin down and get to sucking.

    My pussy was soaking my panties as I sucked him. I was really enjoying playing with the extra skin. He struggled to last because I’m really good at giving head.

    After finishing in my mouth and I swallowed I admired his beautiful cock. Then he wanted to see more of me so my pants and panties came off. My nicely trimmed pussy was soaked. He decided to eat me out. So pleasurable

    Then he fucked me. He told me my tight pussy needed to experience a big German cock.

    Farm Girls Get It, We Adopt The Position

    I'm the poster child of the wholesome farm girl. I grew up in Saskatchewan, in a farming community. I never met a boy I wanted to go out with. I followed my Mom and went to McGill in Montreal, her home town before being dragged off to a farm. At McGill I experimented with lesbian experimenters, but truthfully none of them are lesbians either. I met Joel who told me to adopt the positions and fucked me as the bitch snd told me he was the man in the relationship, I was the bitch and go along with the pogram.

    Like a programed submissive I adapted quickly to cooking and cleaning, adopting the position. I told him, I'm a farm girl, I'm not from the city, if he wanted me I'd be home in Saskatchewan, come and get me. He married me, told me to get with the program, I have two sons now. He runs his business remotely, has an office in Regina. I'm on a farm, a gentleman's farm, raising my boys in the country. I love my home, my community. I would never be that girl I was for a while in Montreal.

    I understand what my mother gave up, but also what she got in return. I don't pretend to tell others that the farm girl is for them. But it is for me, and my boys, living close to Mom and Dad snd my two sisters. My husband spends his days with his nose in his business. That's ok with me as long he can support me. I'm the bitch, when it's about sex and my role in the marriage. I was born to it. Like a lock and key, I'm the lock and he's the key in our marriage.

  • Like Mother Like Daughter, She's Almost All Grown Up

    My daughter will turn 21 this Christmas. She is the love child of her father and me. We had a hospital affair when I was young and Daddy hungry and he was looking for young pussy to keep him warm at night. Our affair lasted a few years, a baby girl, and then I grew up. A ring was in order, make me an honest woman, if he wanted me keeping his bed warm all night.

    Now my 21 year old daughter is in love with her physiology professor, a Frenchman who teaches her what wine to drink with what cheese after dinner. One day she too will be a nurse, perhaps a young doctor will come along and steal her heart. As for me, I've never quite got over her papa, the love of my life. I suppose that's why I'm still his wife.

    The Hum Drum Of A Middle Class Girl In A LT Affair In The Office

    It seems that everyone has a high adrenaline sexual history. What about us girls who never got laid in high school, worked from the time we were sixteen, went to a small no name college and work in a small family owned company? The guys we meet are either married, or carry so much baggage, or it's pretty obvious why they don't have a wife or girlfriend. Why should we be the ones to touch those toads?

    I lost my virginity, I really don't know where it was the day I lost it, I hadn't paid attention to it for a long long time, to the owner of the company. Yes, he felt me up first, and teased me with his dick denying it to me, called me his little lamb and how he looked forward to fucking me. I wasn't really thinking about my virginity, there he goes, right in my hole, and poof, my virginity is gone. The beginning of an office affair, a fight with his wife, a reluctant girlfriend.

    At least I was 28 and not 18. I can't imagine some 18 year old girl in this situation. 90% of the daily stress is working with his wife, his baggage. She won't leave him, and give up her share in the business. And he won't leave her and give her her share in the business. But deep down inside they would rather have a girlfriend between them than contemplate living as divorced people.

    I work for her, she is the office manager. We have always been short handed, the paperwork is a burden, especially because this company does intrastate transportation. The computer system is ancient, but upgrading is expensive, and who has time to learn all the new programs? I go to small company forums and it's the same story everywhere, you can solve all your solutions with this new software, upgrade all your hardware, and the monthly rental of the software is equivalent to two new hires. We do with what we have. So she is stuck doing it the old way, and I'm stuck along with her. The good news is that this little company makes a lot of money, the old fashioned way. Hard work and on the spot customer relations.

    Being his little lamb means I have to play along, and baa when he's working off all of his tensions in me. Don't get me wrong, I am in love with him. I know he needs my affections and I need his drive and manly grab, grope and fuck. I look forward to it. I wish his wife did, she somehow lost interest at one point, they haven't had sex since before COVID. He's a real 'mother fucker' when it comes to sex, and it's all about him, but when it's over you walk away wiping your wet pussy wishing it wasn't over, I always need more. A woman needs a good fucking. I read that somewhere and now I believe it. He just can't work up the energy to fuck his wife and she's withdrawn into her world. So we work together and don't talk about sex. It's a given.

    To go back to the beginning, no whirlwind romance, no meeting in Aspen, no taken by surprise in an elevator, no walking on the beach at sunset. Just a hard working man, and his little lamb for a girlfriend.

  • In The End It's About Keeping The Boss Happy

    The moment was very stressful. I was on the phone, on the other end was our best customer, threatening to cut us off if we didn't take care of an out of warranty problem. I was a lowly customer rep and my big boss was standing behind me, holding my hair, his hands on my shoulders, running his hands down over my tits, kissing my neck, reaching down between my legs. Right then we were in a motel and all he wanted was to get back on and keep going.

    I tried shacking him off, I didn't like the guy on the other end of the phone, and frankly he didn't have a claim, if he wanted us to fix it he would get a bill. The warranty had expired. But, and here is the problem for all lowly personnel, my boss was listening to every word I was saying, whispering in my ear, twisting my nipple between his fingers. What was I supposed to pay attention to, it felt like I was getting screwed either way.

    I handed the phone to my boss and he pushed it back, 'no you handle it'. OK, I did. I told the customer to f off, no I told the customer that if he needed a service technician we would send one out, on the clock, and he would get the bill for parts and labor. I hung up. I turned to my boss, shacking him off of me first 'what's you problem?'

    He tried feeding me this bull about multitasking. I told him I wasn't in the mood, like the customer he was now on the clock, I was charging him for time and labor. No freebies here, mister. He drove us back to the office, rather pissed that he was going back and he had been blue balled. I told him, in an officy way, the blame here is with the customer. And if he had it so bad, he could go into the men's room and work off his problem.

    But girls don't get off so easy, he needed relief, and the call had only made him more horny. And as the lowly assistant I did what lowly assistants do with their horny boss, I blew him in the parking garage.

    Nothing Changes, It Never Will.

    Many many years ago, in a bar for college students, handwritten on the wall "women of the world unite, let him sleep on the wet spot". Then came ERA, Feminist, the new world order, and women still sleep on the wet spot.

    Finding The Right Man

    My problem as my aunt Harriet tells me, is I want perfection. she summarizes it something like this "You want that man who is everything, an athlete, handsome, tall, masculine, a hard worker who makes lots and lots of money, a great lover, who treats you like a queen, who is sensitive and nice and doesn't tell you what to do." In other words, the invisible man, the man that does not exist.

    I met that man, it was at work, I was a young entry level recent graduate, he was an older man who seemed to be able to do anything every time. He showed me, taught me, encouraged me, he made me the professional I am today. It took me six years, from 22 to 28 to realize that he was the man I was in love with. Not my dates, not the gym enthusiast next door who is six foot two (I'm five ten so I have a deep insecurity with shorter men).

    He had a way of putting his hand on my shoulder which brought out my feminine side. I could not stop myself, I tried, but failed every time. When he put his arm around my shoulder I laid my head on his and turned into him with my arms around his waist. Did I want to be kissed, YES. To be kissed and held. I got a kiss on my forehead.

    Being around him did things to me that I swore I would never do. I hated the way the office cleaning staff cleaned his office. I kept Windex and gloves and a small vacuum in my office and I went in early and I cleaned his office. I know he likes his coffee a little strong. I made his coffee before anyone else messed up the pot. I brought to work a cup and saucer, to serve him his coffee in the morning. I sat beside him at his desk while he had his morning coffee and listened to his stories, tales of greater things. Yes, if I could have slipped off the chair to sit on the floor beside him, with my head in his lap listening to the wisdom of the ages, I would have done that. But work decorum stood in the way.

    One day he asked me if I wanted to be a woman, I guess I was around 25. If you want to be a woman, then you will long to have children. Simple as that. By the time I was 28 I longed to have children, to have his children. By then I had made up my mind, I didn't just want his arm around my shoulder, I wanted my legs around him. I wanted to get pregnant, I wanted to have a baby. Every pregnancy at work, seeing a pregnant woman at the mall. I wanted to be pregnant more than anything in the world. But of course, his pregnant woman. Believe me, by then I was 'his woman', his 'office wife'.

    I was introduced to a 36 year old man, tall of course, single of course, made lots of money, of course, handsome of course. But the day he touched me, I might as well have been visited by the Devil. I shook inside, I rejected him immediately. The feelings of invasion were so strong that I went to my 'father's' house and spent all night talking to his wife ( yes by then I understood I had substituted him for my absent father). It was that night that I verbalized to her that I was in love. I told her about my desires to get pregnant. I told her every little thing. She listened and once in a while would pat my hand and tell me she understood, remember that she was in love with him too. But getting pregnant was a big step, and I had to really think about that. Another life is a lifetime responsibility. Was I sure?

    "If you're sure then don't let your eggs go to waste". Literally that's what she told me. I spent the night at their house, not my first time.

    I fixed his coffee for him, and served him at the table. I went out and got the paper for him, and sat with him as he leafed through the pages. I listened to his observations. When he was done with the paper, I told him I was in love with him and I wanted to have a baby. He didn't say anything to me, he just looked at me. I got the hint and went to fix him an omelet. I set the table for him, got some juice out of the refrigerator, I was very familiar with their kitchen, obviously. I sat down beside him while he ate his breakfast. I waited and waited for him to tell me he loved me. (not in the way he told me all the time, in the way that said I love you and I want you to have a baby).

    I had to wait for the pandemic, when the world was coming to an end, before he 'took' me and planted his seed inside of me and I got my baby. He crossed the Rubicon with me, and I had to understand. It wasn't ever going to be like it was before. I had to grow up, another life makes you do that.


    Just for a basis if understanding, I'm a third generation Vietnamese girl raised in Houston. My family owns an alterations business.

    After college I returned home and was lucky to get a job two weeks after graduation. My family had this vision for us girls, grow up, go to college, get married, have a houseful of children. Our generation wanted a career, travel, have some fun before being tied to a husband and children.

    I was not that social, I did have my own place, but didn't date. I didn't need it or want it. I got older, and older, I turned 30. No husband, no boyfriend, no prospects.

    A man in his thirties, almost forty, asked me to get married. An Anglo. White. Caucasian. I said no. My family would die if they thought I was talking to a non Vietnamese about marriage. When he went behind my back and went to talk to my parents, they were hurt, insulted, that a white man would think about marrying me, getting me pregnant.

    They interpreted my not being there as my shame. When I told them I wasn't part of it, they didn't believe me. But I was thirty, and a proposal from a man with a good job and a profession wasn't something to ignore. They accepted. Not getting married was disobeying my father, dishonor, I was dressed up and married in a Baptist Church.

    To say my wedding night was my first night, to say I had to disrobe in front of a man I only knew from work. To have a new name, Bergeron. To have a husband named Hebert, pronounced Ayeber, from Louisiana, a Cajun, with a Vietnamese wife. Culture shock, what Vietnamese girl ever heard of boudin, used Tabasco sauce?

    What Vietnamese girl has a husband eleven inches taller? I married a man I never dated, never kissed, never cooked for. He liked the traditional Vietnamese wife. There was trouble in paradise. But my father gave me the talk, if I failed he was dishonored, lost face. I became a traditional Vietnamese wife.

    So far so good. My husband took me to Viet Nam. To look for my extended family. I looked Vietnamese, I wasn't Vietnamese, I was American.

  • My Role Is To Be His Mistress, Lover, Girlfriend His Wife Has Her Role

    At my company a position opened up in another department. The job description I felt was something I could do, and they required a degree in economics, finance or accounting. And I felt it had to be more interesting than working in GL. I applied, the only internal candidate. The HR director told me my aptitudes weren't a good fit, warned me that I was flirting with failure. The girls in the bathroom told me he, the boss I would work for, had a reputation for being touchy with the girls.

    The girls were right, not the HR Director. In fact I learned she had held me back from other promotions. My new boss was touchy, nothing was sacred. Not harassment, because it felt good and I loved the attention. As one of the unlucky in love crowd, I welcomed his arm around my shoulders, kissed on the cheek, on the forehead. Treated like an empty headed girl.

    At lunch one day, the other coworkers had left already, he asked me where I lived, five minutes from the office. We went to see my apartment, one bedroom, bed unmade, panties on the bathroom floor. He checked it out, asked me if my bed stood up to a good pounding. I opened my legs, he pulled off my panties, he put his mouth on my girl parts, I faced a hard dick that was about to fuck me.

    I resented his wife, that money hungry bitch that saddled him with two spoiled private school children. I lived my days to be around him, I kept my sheets clean for our midday lovemaking. My reality, my own behavior, I didn't care about any of his prior behaviors. He was a golden boy, part of the inner circle, girls got promoted when they showed their bosses affection.

    I got promoted, I got to know his wife and daughters, I have real responsibility. I'm a girl, I'm in love with him, he's my only experience. I respect his wife and children. He needs me, at work, loyal and genuinely care for him. We have 'our' thing. He is more than enough of a man to have both his wife and me. It's not what 'you' would do, it's not socially acceptable, but mistresses, lovers, girlfriends have been part of the landscape for powerful men, since time immemorial.