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Women Only
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Straight Female / 40
Old Enough To Be The Frustrated Housewife
Somedays I like to get up, have my coffee, and read the confessions on this sight. So many interesting tid bits about anything and everything. Many repeated themes, women that are virgins and have never had the luck to have a man, women who are lesbians and would never want to have a man. Men who need the company of men to get off. You get the picture, if you read long enough you will find yourself here, or maybe your inner self.
My story is often repeated. I grew up as an only child of a religious couple, my father was 24 years older than my mother and my mother was a small town girl who had been unlucky in life. I was born when she was 42. My father did not live long enough to see me finish high school, or to take me to the father daughter dance at school. My mother harbored her religious feelings and the very idea of having a man come around frightened her to death. She had a recurring dream, and woke up in a sweat, that a man was standing by her bed staring at her.
As an adult, and a virgin, I took it upon myself to dig into my mother's past. She was in her late sixties then, and I was a starving journalist with a job as an insurance clerk in the benefits department of the utility company, surrounded by older women. I went back to my mother's home town and looked through the library of old newspapers, trying to see what it was that made her like that. I found a lot, but nothing about her or her family. I wasn't able to find anyone who knew them or remembered them. She was an average student, that's about all I could find out.
I decided that the direct approach was better and I interviewed her with my journalist hat on. she claims that I interrogated her. After a lot of stonewalling she told me what happened. She was a young woman, already past puberty, when a man did break into their home and she and her sister were both m****ted. She would not admit to anything more than that, but her word m****ted sounded a whole lot like r**e. The sum of it all is that I started to 'feel' the presence of a man in my apartment, only to wake up to the darkness and the silence. I wasn't able to shake it off, sometimes the dream was so realistic, hands up between my legs, only to wake up that I was feeling myself up instead.
It was many months later that I was unloading my car and a man offered to help. He carried the heavy bags into my apartment and I offered him a cup of coffee. He accepted. He was moving in to the complex. We talked for a while and I asked him if he wanted me to suck his dick. I had lost all sense of propriety, I wasn't at all circumspect. Under my breath, 'let me suck you dick, please. I just want to suck a dick and I want you to fuck me'.
He wasn't like the men at church, he wasn't going to turn down the offer. He stripped me naked and looked at me in the setting sun against the living room window. He turned me around a few times, touching my nipples, putting his finger in my crack, poking me up my vagina. He asked me where I wanted it. I went over to my kitchen table and bent over and grabbed the other edge and he fucked me. It was mechanical and anything but sensual, like having a pap smear by the doctor. He took his time and when it was time for him to come I told him do it. But he pulled out and he let it out on my back. I did not get a chance to suck his dick.
But I wasn't a virgin. But he never came around again. I understood better than ever just how frustrated my mother had been. I sucked dick and had other men fuck me, always someone looking for sex in a bar. I rotated where I went, I went to a hotel bar on weekends, and was accused of being a hooker. I went to a wine bar on Wednesday nights. Older men, men who were on the make, most of them married. I sucked a lot of dick in cars and got fucked in my apartment but never woke up with a man.
My mother passed and I turned 37. I met a man by chance. I played the role of the housewife and he played the role of the husband and I sucked his dick and he fucked me and we woke up together. He married me, out of his sense of guilt. After marriage our sex life ended. What sex I've had is always on the sly, I wear my rings, some men like getting a piece of a frustrated housewife.
My story is often repeated. I grew up as an only child of a religious couple, my father was 24 years older than my mother and my mother was a small town girl who had been unlucky in life. I was born when she was 42. My father did not live long enough to see me finish high school, or to take me to the father daughter dance at school. My mother harbored her religious feelings and the very idea of having a man come around frightened her to death. She had a recurring dream, and woke up in a sweat, that a man was standing by her bed staring at her.
As an adult, and a virgin, I took it upon myself to dig into my mother's past. She was in her late sixties then, and I was a starving journalist with a job as an insurance clerk in the benefits department of the utility company, surrounded by older women. I went back to my mother's home town and looked through the library of old newspapers, trying to see what it was that made her like that. I found a lot, but nothing about her or her family. I wasn't able to find anyone who knew them or remembered them. She was an average student, that's about all I could find out.
I decided that the direct approach was better and I interviewed her with my journalist hat on. she claims that I interrogated her. After a lot of stonewalling she told me what happened. She was a young woman, already past puberty, when a man did break into their home and she and her sister were both m****ted. She would not admit to anything more than that, but her word m****ted sounded a whole lot like r**e. The sum of it all is that I started to 'feel' the presence of a man in my apartment, only to wake up to the darkness and the silence. I wasn't able to shake it off, sometimes the dream was so realistic, hands up between my legs, only to wake up that I was feeling myself up instead.
It was many months later that I was unloading my car and a man offered to help. He carried the heavy bags into my apartment and I offered him a cup of coffee. He accepted. He was moving in to the complex. We talked for a while and I asked him if he wanted me to suck his dick. I had lost all sense of propriety, I wasn't at all circumspect. Under my breath, 'let me suck you dick, please. I just want to suck a dick and I want you to fuck me'.
He wasn't like the men at church, he wasn't going to turn down the offer. He stripped me naked and looked at me in the setting sun against the living room window. He turned me around a few times, touching my nipples, putting his finger in my crack, poking me up my vagina. He asked me where I wanted it. I went over to my kitchen table and bent over and grabbed the other edge and he fucked me. It was mechanical and anything but sensual, like having a pap smear by the doctor. He took his time and when it was time for him to come I told him do it. But he pulled out and he let it out on my back. I did not get a chance to suck his dick.
But I wasn't a virgin. But he never came around again. I understood better than ever just how frustrated my mother had been. I sucked dick and had other men fuck me, always someone looking for sex in a bar. I rotated where I went, I went to a hotel bar on weekends, and was accused of being a hooker. I went to a wine bar on Wednesday nights. Older men, men who were on the make, most of them married. I sucked a lot of dick in cars and got fucked in my apartment but never woke up with a man.
My mother passed and I turned 37. I met a man by chance. I played the role of the housewife and he played the role of the husband and I sucked his dick and he fucked me and we woke up together. He married me, out of his sense of guilt. After marriage our sex life ended. What sex I've had is always on the sly, I wear my rings, some men like getting a piece of a frustrated housewife.
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