If you talked to my family, they would probably say that kink was the cause of the collapse of my first marriage. But that gets cause and effect back to front. I turned to kink after I realized my marriage wasn't working. The last straw was when our pastor told me it was my responsibility to make it work. It was like something just snapped inside. I had been telling myself the same thing for ten years and when I heard it from someone else, I suddenly realized that wasn't my only choice.

That was when I realized that living by other people's rules hadn't made me happy. It was time to stop that and make some rules of my own. Just as I don't have to learn to like the same music as everyone else, I don't have to learn to like sex the way that meets other people's approval. What I do for fun doesn't have to make sense to anyone but me. Not caring to meet other people's expectations goes for other folk in the community. If living the lifestyle 24x7 is what floats your boat, more power to you. I don't have to compete.

I come from small town, bible belt America. Sex ed. consisted of films on the dangers of teen pregnancy and STDs followed by the chastity lecture. I was a purity pledger and a virgin bride. What I hadn't bargained for was an all but celibate marriage as well. Ed's idea of passionate sex was three thrusts and a squirt. Anything more was perversion.

It was time to make up my own mind.On the way home I stopped at an adult store. I had never been inside one before. I bought three DVDs of the filthiest stuff I could find, took them home and watched them one after another. A week later, I hadn't committed any axe murders leading me to conclude that the risks of porn had been greatly overstated by my church.

The scene that left a lasting impression was actually a trailer for another DVD. There was a man and two women, all well dressed as if for a business meeting or a party. The man looked at one of the women then says to the other, "She is acceptable, prepare her." Finally we see the first woman being led into a bedroom by the second and the man closing the door on both.

If the adult store had carried the DVD being advertised I would have watched it and almost certainly forgotten it almost immediately. But they didn't have it or have any idea how to get it. Despite much effort, it was ten years until I finally found a copy and I have only bought it, never watched it. I know that whatever I see can't possibly improve on the fantasies I have imagined and acted out in real life.

As I write, the thought of it makes my breathing slow, my pussy moist. I think about the now familiar routine of a wife undressing me, bathing me, parting my legs and making me ready for her husband's cock.

I came to the idea of making the fantasy a reality gradually. At first just the thought of the fantasy was enough. But the fantasy was more arousing when I thought of the other participants as characters. The other woman became the man's wife early on. This added a layer of transgression, not only was I committing adultery, so was the man and instead of protesting the infidelity, his wife was facilitating it.

The repertoire of sex acts expanded as well. At first the wife would just undress me and lay me out on the bed for her husband who would mount me in the missionary position. Over time the preparation turned into foreplay with the wife while the husband watched. The man would examine my anus, declare me 'too tight' and instruct his wife to 'loosen her'. Which she/I would do with my fingers as I frigged myself to a climax.

Shaving myself became a part of my fantasy routine. After Ed left the house, I would lay a towel out on our bed, prop a mirror up against a pillow and go to work. Ed hated this of course, but complaining to me would require him to talk about sex. And the church had told him that was a sin. But Ed didn't have the guts to talk to me. He talked to our pastor instead.

The pastor's call was the final breaking point as far as the church was concerned. I had reached my limit. Most of my church friends stopped speaking to me. But I rediscovered friends that had dropped out before me. In effect they were a sort of support group for the towns failed churchers.

It was this new circle of friends that got me using Facebook. And it was my Facebook friends that put me in touch with the other sites where I finally discovered that I could in fact make my fantasy a reality.

Up to that point I had been working from home. I'm a sort of paralegal technical writer. You know those bits of paper filled with small print that come with drugs? I write those. Of course the only people who ever read them are lawyers and occasionally a research chemist for a competing firm. Otherwise they just go straight in the trash.

There aren't many jobs for someone with my qualifications in our area but there are even fewer who can fill the ones that come up. A friend of a Facebook friend told me about an opportunity and a few days later I was a Technical Account Manager in a sales office for one of the big pharma companies. It was a modest step up in salary at first but it was the first step towards a post-Ed career.

As I got in the car to drive to my first day at my new work, I suddenly realized that I would miss my usual morning break for 'prepare her'.

"That's OK," I said aloud, "she will do it."

Over the next few days, my regrowing bush was a constant reminder of my decision to make my fantasy a reality. As soon as Ed left for church on Sunday, I stripped naked, took some pictures with my mobile and began writing the post that would change my life.

Adulterate Me.

I am a 31 year old married woman seeking a married couple to fulfill adultery fantasy with in the SLC Utah area.

As you can see from my photographs I am reasonably good looking, tolerably but not too thin. Expect partners to be likewise, drug, disease free etc.

I am an oral and anal virgin. I have never had sex or intimate contact with any person other than my husband. You are invited to change this.

It is not necessary for me to enjoy the experience itself. The scene must however include the following elements:

* You must be legally married to each other (and prove it before we start).

* At the start we are all clothed, the husband will say to his wife, "She is acceptable, prepare her."

* The wife will undress me and prepare me for her husband's penis. As part of this preparation she will remove all my pubic hair.

* The wife will be present at all times I am with her husband and will watch every sex with him.

* The wife will guide her husband's penis into my vagina and he will ejaculate inside me

* The scene will last at least eight hours. At the end, the husband will say, "That's enough, get rid of her" and leave.

For a period of at least eight hours, my body will be entirely yours. My only hard limits are no edge play, bodily fluids, anything dangerous or would leave a permanent mark after the scene is over.

Reply with pictures and suggestions for how you would use me please.

Responses began to appear almost immediately. Most were from men without partners, others were from couples who were very interested but the wrong side of the country. They offered encouragement to keep on looking though.

The post made it to 'Kinky and Popular' which brought another flood of responses. Most of these didn't help either but I read (and replied to) each one and at the end I was talking to a half dozen couples.

It took me quite a while to take the penultimate step of a meeting. Going to the first meeting was easily the most nerve racking part of the whole affair. I was more nervous entering the Panera to have a cup of coffee with some friends in public than when I rang their front doorbell. By this time it was many weeks since I stopped shaving and my pubic hair had regrown into quite a bush. I was wet of course, but curiously relaxed.

Anne and John were not the only couple I had met but they were the people I kept going back to with questions. What I liked was that instead of suggesting a particular scene, they described similar scenes they had performed with other partners. They helped me understand what it was that I wanted and what my real limits were.

It helped that they are both successful professionals. Ann runs a publishing business and John is a doctor. They helped me realize that it isn't being controlled that I resent, its being controlled by people who I can't look up to.

Ann opened the door, "You are expected, come in."

I entered the house feeling more relief than anything. Of all the things that could happen that night, the thought of returning home for a lifetime of Ed and the church scared me the most.

The entrance hall was circular with a curving grand stairway.

The ceiling was lit by a stained glass dome and a nautical compass motif was set into the floor. John was evidently a successful doctor.

John descended the staircase and said some words that I couldn't hear to Ann. They talked for a while and or a moment I thought that maybe they were having second thoughts. But then John looked at me and said the words I was waiting to hear, "Prepare her."

I had been waiting hopefully to ascend the stairs to the bedroom. Instead, I was taken downstairs to the basement. The space had been finished as a gym and sauna. I was led over to the massage table where Ann undressed me. I tried to help her but Ann's hand pushed mine away.

Once I was naked and my clothes folded away, Ann fastened leather bands around my wrists and ankles, checking each one to make sure they were neither too tight nor too loose.

If I had hoped for a gentle introduction, I would have been disappointed. With a practiced flick of the wrist, Ann had locked both my wrists together and fastened them to an eye bolt in the ceiling with a carabiner clip. I thought I was about to be whipped but instead I was left in this position for quite a while. After a short time, I realized that I desperately wanted to pee. I was standing on a tiled surface and there was a drain underneath my feet. Was this allowed or not? Would I be breaking some rule?

'To pee or not to pee', I thought to myself. Which only made things worse. There might not be a rule against peeing but I was pretty sure that laughter wasn't allowed. I had gone from trying not to pee to trying not to laugh as well.

When Ann returned, she was wearing a white lab coat and carrying an enormous syringe, the sort of thing a clown might use as a prop.

I felt a lubricated finger pressing against my ass. Just as I had got used to this assault, the finger was replaced by something else and I felt something warm inside me.

The sensation of receiving the enema was unusual but not painful. What made the experience unpleasant was having Ann watch as the soiled water came back out. The humiliation was repeated five times in all. At the end, she brought out a hose and washed me off as if she was cleaning the car.

As her hands soaped and cleaned my body, I realized that there was really nothing that I wouldn't let her do to me. And I was grateful for her for allowing me to understand this. I had made a choice and my choice was to be used by this woman and her husband. And no matter what happened from that point on to the point where his penis thrust itself into my adulterous cunt, it had happened because I permitted it, I chose it to be so.

After the shower, I was bathed and the hair on my head washed, rinsed and tied in a towel. The scent of warm wax told me what lay in store for the rest.

I was laid out face down on the massage table, my hands and feet secured with carabiners. I found this perversely comforting, thinking of myself in the third person: That's good, it will stop her getting away. The truth is that I am not a person who enjoys pain or humiliation, it is the anticipation and the memory that arouse me. To be shackled by my dom is reassuring. To suffer the pain of being whipped is unpleasant. But to fail, to have stopped a whipping before it is done is unbearable. It is to suffer all the pain and none of the reward of having been worthy. I do not get off on being beaten, it is when having been beaten, my tormentor turns to me and says 'good girl' that makes me melt inside.

The process was not as painful as I had hoped. I was there to commit adultery, I wanted it to hurt. All my life I had been told by men that the penalty for adultery was to suffer punishment. Better to suffer punishment now than waiting for it to come.

Ann started at my feet working her way methodically up both legs, my butt and back. Then she slipped me over and worked on the front in the same way. When she reached my pubis, my restraints were adjusted so that I was bent double, my legs spread wide allowing her to work the full area from my pubis to my anus.

I gritted my teeth as I was stripped cleaner and deeper than ever before. My razor had only removed the hair at the surface. Ann's wax removed the hair by the roots. She was making my slit, my crack ready for the use of her husbands cock. The heat of the wax and the sting as it was ripped away that had been barely noticeable on my legs made me gasp with each new assault on my sensitive parts.

After the wax, I was stood with my wrists fastened to the bolt in the ceiling and soaped and showered a second time. Standing behind me, Ann parted my legs and gently lubricated my crack with her fingers. As she was doing this, I imagined she was doing this to me with him watching and me crouched down on all fours, his thick cock stiff and ready to take my anal virginity. I closed my eyes thinking about his cock bearing down on, pushing itself into my rear passage as Ann deflowered my butt with a plug.

After this, I was beaten on each buttock with a cane.

Following my punishment, I was left alone again. I was grateful that she had had the consideration to.

When she returned, Ann was also nude. I was surprised by how much our bodies are alike. She is about my height, a little shorter perhaps and like me she wore her hair long. Her nipples were pierced and she wore a barbell stud in each one. Like me her pussy was waxed smooth and she wore leather bands on her wrists and ankles. She also wore a leather collar round her neck.

This was a reminder to me, I was going to be used by John, but she belonged to him. She was preparing me for his use tonight but it was her man I was taking and one way or another, I would pay her for it.

Ann removed the butt plug and replaced it with a larger one. From this moment on there was barely a moment when there wasn't something inside my rear.

I was beaten with the cane again, harder this time and in more places.

When at last my punishment was over, my hands were fastened behind my back and I was led back to the grand entrance and then finally up the curving stairs to the bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, the bedroom was richly but tastefully decorated. At the very center of the room stood a four poster bed. Within minutes I was spreadeagled at the center of the bed, each limb fastened to one of the four posts by a chain that Ann carefully adjusted for length.

The four bedposts supported a canopy which had a mirror mounted in it. I looked up to see my reflection. The cane had left red welts on my breasts and thighs. I was bound hand and foot, naked, shaved, helpless. John could have used any part of that body in any way he wished and its owner would be unable to offer any resistance.

But John had not returned and so my preparation must be incomplete. What was in store for me next, more pain or perhaps finally pleasure?

Ann's choice was pleasure, but hers rather than mine. Ann squatted over my face, gently stroking herself. Her slit was wet and pungent. My dread increased as the gyrations of her hips brought her sex ever closer to my lips.

It is of course the paradox of bondage that scenes invariably turn on the needs of the bottom, not the top. I am not bisexual and I really didn't get any sort of thrill or pleasure from licking Ann's slit. But as she began to sigh and moan I realized that the balance of power had shifted. I was the one who was bound but Ann was the person under my control. It felt rather good.

The shift in the balance of power was temporary. After coming with loud cries, Ann began working my defenseless slit with her tongue and pulling at the plug in my rear at the same time. Her ass hovered tantalizingly over my face, shaved and plugged just like mine. What had been in my face only moments earlier was now tantalizingly out of reach and I wanted it badly.

I came loudly, the bands on my ankles and wrists digging in painfully with each wave. When I was finished, Ann removed my restraints and we lay together in each other's arms for a while until our touches became caresses and our caresses kisses.

John watched us fuck, stroking his cock as we eagerly devoured each other in a 69. For the first time in my life I came a second time.

After all this, the sex with John was something of an anticlimax. I had already had two more orgasms than I usually did with Ed. The experience was mostly a blur. I remember few points with precision. Crouching down on all fours, my ass pointed up in the air with John's prick pushing against my hole ready to ram my ass. Ann spreading my legs and guiding his prick into my cunt.

And of course John's cock spurting inside me, what I later came to think of as my signature on the divorce papers.