If you are looking for a story about romantic sex in which the heroine has one breathless orgasm after another then pass on. This is not the tale for you are looking for. If you are looking to me to tell you to follow in my path, I certainly won't. I have spent far too much of my life telling other people how to live their lives by living them the way that I was living my own to make that mistake. I am not looking for your approval, your sympathy or your understanding.

This is a story about sex. Not meaningful sex. Not romantic sex. Just sex. Sex for no other reason than for pleasure or to simply remind myself of the thrill of being alive. Sex without the slightest guilt or apology.

In case you are concerned, I am not going to tell a story of how an all American clean living church-woman sank into a well of depravity, realized the error of her ways and climbed out. Mine is a tale of an all-American etc. who climbed into a well of depravity and found life so much better for herself and everyone around her that she built a new, even deeper well inside the first.

The thought of adultery had never entered my mind until Toxic Tammy put it there. It was at the church picnic that I happened to pass by the table where Tammy and her friends were gossiping about someone's husband having an affair.

"What would happen to the world if women behaved like that," Tammy sneered loudly.

"Maybe we should, then we could have the fun and people like you would blame the man," I heard someone reply.

Suddenly, all four women at Tammy's table were looking at me, their mouths stretched wide in an O. Evidently, I had said the offending words.

Try as I might, I couldn't put Tammy's question out of my mind. Why shouldn't women behave the way that men did? Half the men in church had had affairs and nobody seemed to blame them very much. The blame was always on the abandoned wife and the other woman.

'Why not have an affair?' I asked myself as we began the drive home and hadn't thought of a good reason not an hour later when we arrived home.

I woke early the next morning with the vague feeling that I had mislaid something at the picnic but couldn't quite remember what. I had my bag, my purse and my keys. My iPhone was neatly plugged into its docking station on the night stand. All the food we had taken had been packed in disposable containers but they had been brought home anyway, cleaned and stood in an orderly pile next to the draining board.

It was only when John called the children downstairs to get ready for church that I remembered what I had mislaid: The mask of dutiful domesticity I had worn for the first fifteen years of our marriage.

"Go ahead without me dear," I said to John, "I'm not coming."

It took John ten minutes at least to process the notion that I could be not tired, not sick, not busy with some other task and not going to church. I was going to be spending the day with someone else, a girl who wore all black and dyed her hair pink, a girl who read the books her parents considered inappropriate and forbid her, a girl who stayed out late and drank at parties, a goth girl, a wild girl. The girl I had been before I married John.

Like any mid-life crisis, my process of self-rediscovery was predictably unpredictable. A tangled mass of confused emotions and desires. I survived, more importantly we survived. As people and as a family. Especially as a family. Instead of putting all our energies into the church our parents had imposed on us, we put our energies into each other, our children and ourselves. I have even attended John's new church on occasion. Perhaps if I had known you could believe without trying to run everyone else's lives, I would have never left in the first place.

But this story isn't about the church, it's about me and about it's about sex and what you might discover if you dare to lift back the curtain covering your desires. Over the course of the next year, I came to understand that it wasn't an affair that I wanted, it was sex. Raw, uninhibited sex, the type of sex I had read about in the forbidden books. And I got it from the last person I expected.

Before my crisis, John had been a sensitive but inept lover. His cock got stiff, my pussy might wet and after a few thrusts and we were done. Or rather John was done. I was very much not.

The first time I returned home after making love to another man, John was waiting for me downstairs. It was late and he was in his dressing gown. He opened the door to me without a word and I followed him up to the bedroom. The first two times I had been out on one of my dates, he had asked me the question immediately. This time he waited what seemed like an eternity to me as I removed my makeup and put my jewelry away. I was on my way to the shower when he blocked my path.

"Did you do it?" he asked in a calm, quiet voice.

Could he smell the other man's scent on me? I could tell from the look in his eyes that he knew. I wanted to shout out, yes we fucked. He was a balding middle aged accountant with a pot belly. I had picked him of OKCupid because I knew I wouldn't fall in love with him.

"Did you do it?" John insisted, grabbing me by the arm.

"Yes", I replied.

John pushed me back against the wall, pressing his lips against mine. Suddenly, we were both teenagers again. I was swept back to the day at school when I had met him behind the bike shed and we had kissed for the first time after he had given me his pin.

"Fuck", I said, purely in surprise. But John took me at my word, pinning me to the wall by his cock, each savage thrust drawing a gasp of a scream from my lips. He grabbed me by the hair, pushing me face down onto the bed and took me again from the rear. He was hurting me, but I wanted to be hurt, wanted to be punished for what I had done to him.

Afterwards, I lay in bed weaving a fantasy in which this adventure rekindled our marriage. We had our first serious talk about sex. For the next week it was like we were on our honeymoon again. We had sex every night. We watched porn together. We masturbated for each other. John discovered he liked giving me oral.

The next morning I woke to the realization that making reality match my fantasy would be hard. John wouldn't speak to me about sex, he wouldn't speak to me at all.

Even after we had made up, rekindling the spark proved harder than expected. The improvement was real but short lived.

We picked my partner for my next date together. He was tall, thin, athletic with dark hair and blue eyes. He rang my bell but John did not. Over my next half dozen dates, John's interest and skills gradually increased. But so did my sex drive.

I was spinning wildly out of control. When I was in bed naked with a stranger, I loved every minute of it. But complexities and emotions intruded in between those brief moments of bliss.

Fantasies about sex with strangers invaded my thoughts unexpectedly. I would see two people together in the street or in a store and imagine them naked together, fucking right in front of me. When an Amazon package was due, I would mentally fuck the delivery man a half dozen times before he rang the doorbell.

I seduced a 17 year old boy, or maybe I allowed him to seduced me.

I knew Adam's parents through church but had never really talked to him till we met by chance in the coffee shop. I didn't regret leaving the church but it had left a large gap in my social life which I tried to fill by leaving my house with its perfectly good espresso machine to pay four dollars for a latte.

When I first arrived, Adam was engaged in an intense conversation with a pretty girl. As was my habit, I imagined them together. Adam lay flat on his back, his long, thick cock becoming erect in her delicate hands. She knelt over him to take his cock in her mouth, her long blonde hair falling over their union as Adam grunted in satisfaction.

Just as I was trying to decide the look and shape of her pussy, shaved or trimmed? wide labia or thin?, the girl stood up and left leaving Adam looking upset.

Subsequent discussion over a second latte revealed the cause of the breakup: sex. They were both virgins and an attempt to bring an end that unhappy state of frustration and confusion the night before had only resulted in more confusion and an exponential increase in frustration for them both.

As they say today, pay it forward.

My own wedding night had been a disaster. We were both too tired, too inexperienced. Perhaps if I had known to expect more we wouldn't have wasted the first decade of our marriage. Rather sweetly, Adam was dubious about my proposal until I explained that my hope was to help his Eve.

It was a high prayer day which gave me at least four hours alone with Adam in the marital bed. As we kissed I realized that there I was, teaching a boy how a woman wanted a man to make love to her and it was a question I had never asked myself. Even in my fantasies, I was the passive partner.

John answered my text immediately and was home minutes later. The idea had only occurred to me after Adam had left, but the look on John's face as he saw me lying naked told me it was right.

"Tell me", John demanded, "Tell me everything."

I told him how I had stood in front of the bed with Adam and kissed, feeling his virgin erection hard against my belly. I had reached down to release the captive prisoner. The boy's inexperienced cock had misfired, staining my dress with cum. But I had sucked the last drips from his long thin dick and reassured him that at his age there would be plenty more. I had laid the dress out on the bed next to me for John to see the proof. It had the desired effect.

We kissed pasionately, John pressing his tongue deep into my mouth to taste the boy's seed. His hand grabbed each of the private places his rival had violated. My pussy, my ass were still wet from the boy's cum. His cock had fired three times. John wound my hair around his hand and forced my face down to the engorged cock that would punish my insolence. He used his grip to move my head against his shaft. Each change of direction pulling on the roots, my cries of pain half strangled by his gagging cock.

John pulled out before he was finished, threw me onto the bed and buried his face in my crotch. His tongue worked my slit and clit until I screamed, locking my legs tight around his head as the waves of pleasure broke over me. John continued, trying to squeeze the last of the orgasm out of me but it was just too much, too intense. I pushed him away and he rolled me onto my front to rim my ass, cleaning the last drops of the imposter's cum from my body.

Then the pain began again.

Unlike my first adventure in adultery, the Adam-fuck kept John fully charged for the best part of a month. It helped that by now we both understood what we were and what we needed for a happy life and a happy marriage. But after a decade of dumb rules and bad sex we both wanted more.

We discovered exhibitionism. In our thirties! On a walk in the woods, I felt a sudden urge to feel his cock inside me. When I told John, he banged me up against the nearest tree without hesitation. The next time we went for a walk a couple of hikers, two men about our age saw us. They paused to watch but only for a minute before they moved on.

Until my change of lifestyle, I had thought of sex only as a meeting of two souls. The understanding that the meeting of the flesh and the meeting of the souls could be separate was a revelation. I did not need to love Adam to give him pleasure, he did not need to love me to take it.

As we climbed out of the stretch limo that had brought us from the park and ride, loudspeakers belted out Bela Lugosi's Dead, the original goth anthem. The last time I had heard it, I had worn black lipstick, pink hair and a nose stud. A marriage, two children and almost twenty years on, I was a little more subtle. My hair was dyed but jet black, my lipstick red. My face was deathly pale but not featureless. My piercings were hidden beneath my Morticia Addams dress. She was character I wanted to emulate now; cool, sophisticated and totally unfazed by anything, no matter how bizarre.

John's wore a gothified version of an outfit we had seen in a porn DVD. Goth is monochrome with occasional colour highlights. The only colour to be found on either of us was our blue eyes and my bright red lipstick. Even my jewelry was silver or platinum, not gold. In the original, an English huntsman wearing a bright red hunt coat had stopped at a barn to water his horse. A serving wench appeared to offer the man a drink and was soon receiving a taste of his cock and his riding crop. Polished black knee length riding boots replaced the brown, a black tailcoat replaced the red. His breeches and shirt were a crisp white. He wore a top hat and carried a riding crop with a polished silver handle.

The crop carries a nasty sting I have never grown used to. The sight of it in his hand always makes a knot in my stomach as I know what is to come.

The house was intimidating enough without thinking of what was inside. The style was gothic of course, if the house had been modern the theme would have been different. Three stories of Victorian gingerbread with a wrap-around veranda.

As it was our first time, we were greeted by the hostess and shown round. There was little furniture as they had just moved in. The party was helping fund a much needed renovation. It was meticulously organized. Every guest was handed a tote bag with a name tag at the door for their clothes. The bag contained a smaller packet of necessities, condoms, lube, rubber gloves, a dildo, even a stainless steel butt plug with a glass jewel in its base. We were guided through rooms filled with a mixture of clothed and unclothed people watching a couple or a trio on a bed or a couch. Glasses of wine were pressed into our hands and we descended a narrow stair to a basement unlike any other I had seen.

The tote carried a nondescript logo on the side representing the event. At the time I was a little disappointed that it wasn't something more specific. It was only later when I saw a man using one for his groceries in Wholefoods that I got the point. The bonus fuck that ensued was quite delightful.

The house had been raised on five massive beams and the foundations remade underneath them to create a single open space with a 9 foot high ceiling and polished cement floor.Two rows of cast iron pillars divided the space into two long narrow strips with a wider strip in the center. Eyebolts were set at regular intervals on every surface; walls, ceiling, pillars, even the floor. The last recessed so as not to create a trip hazard. Such attention to detail! Ominous devices covered in black cloths were placed around the room. Heavy set wooden feet like those of a carpenters workbench protruded from the bottom of some of the covers.

It was the sex lair a Bond villain might build.

Nobody was using the basement yet. A line of three subs stood in silence facing the wall, heads bowed, naked apart from the cuffs and collars some had been allowed to wear. Each waiting their turn for what was to come. A woman about my age held a flogger in her outstretched hands, as if offering it to the wall.

As we descended the steps to the basement I had been excited by the thought of what might be done to me in that cathedral of pain. As we returned upstairs, I thought about the woman with the flogger being held by ropes between two of the pillars, her long flame orange hair flowing down her back being pulled aside to allow the lash to bite into her supple white flesh. In my mind she stood there vulnerable, helpless, willing: I wanted to be the person who made her cry.

The idea that I might have a dark side was unnerving. In the hall, the hostess pointed to a large brass gong which would be the signal that the basement was open. To John's disappointment, I suggested that for our first visit we should remain upstairs.

We joined the circle of spectators in the living room to watch a large black man fuck a petite white woman. John squeezed my hand as we watched. I squeezed back, I was willing if the man's cock was able.

As we were watching, a Japanese woman with her husband admired my costume. I had been receiving compliments all night but Kimiko was the first woman who had contacted me that I felt a sudden attraction to. Her lips were red, her eyes brown with carefully made up eye lashes. Her simple dress was black silk.

"I love yours too," I replied, "but mine is getting hot."

"Come with me then," Kimiko replied, taking my hand.

Kimiko led us to the dining room where a very dark skinned girl and a porcelain white Southern belle were using the mahogany dining table as the stage for a strip show to a song by The Cramps. The white skin of one contrasting interestingly with the chocolate black of the other. Both wore the jeweled butt plugs given out as party favors, the dark crystals at their centers sparkling as they caught the light. At the end of the song the dark girl chose one of the clothed spectators standing round the table to take her place; an ice-breaker game of sorts.

Four other women were ahead of us giving me some time to focus and try to steady my nerves. It helped that the character I was cos-playing was the ice maiden of cool. But I had never imagined how she might strip. We decided she wouldn't: Kimiko would undress me. That meant that she would have to be first. Her simple black dress was soon removed to reveal an elfin figure with slender hips, small breasts and probably the only female public hair in the house.

As Kimiko's husband helped me onto the table, I remembered a page from a sex manual I had read: Presenting yourself. I kept telling myself I was sexual, I was confident, all these people were here looking at me because they wanted to see the nude body beneath my dress. A year earlier, I simply couldn't have done it, but I somehow managed to shrug off the decades of conditioning telling girls they must be modest and feel inferior. Every single one of the dozen or so straight cocks  in the room would gladly bang any of my holes. So why be modest about it?

Knowing I was making it to wear for this party, I had made the dress as easy to remove as possible. Since I wasn't wearing any underwear, the 'striptease' part was going to be rather brief. Kimiko was already naked of course. We danced slowly and kissed and then she undid the hidden zip running the length of my back to my waist allowing the top of the dress to gradually fall free until it hung loose around my hips like a second skirt. Her lips and tongue on my nipples sent shivers of ecstasy down my spine. The piercings had taken weeks to heal but it had been worth the wait.

I placed my hands around my lover's face, guided her down to my crotch and threw my skirt over her. Her fingers and tongue immediately found my third piercing and began work. I tried to hold a pose as I imagined Morticia might do: Eyes closed, sensuously devouring the pleasure, arms outstretched. But Kimiko was far too good and the triangle piercing too intense for me to remain still for very long. I pushed her head down and she sank to the floor, pulling the rest of the dress from my body. Stepping free, I showed myself to the crowd before uncovering my new girlfriend.

Freed from the need to play Morticia, I let Kimiko take the lead. We scissored and then we 69'ed until the end of our second song. "Let's just go fuck!", Kimiko said over the applause.

Not wanting to wait for a place in one of the rooms downstairs, we made our way upstairs where the master bedroom had nobody waiting for the bed to become free. I kissed with Kimiko while the men undressed and the other couple finished. I told her I wanted her to fuck my husband just to hear myself say it. Just saying the words gave me a thrill.

The full swap was what we had come to the party for. But the experience itself was anticlimactic. I was so fixed on the idea my husband would fuck Kimiko that I was barely aware of her husband until his cock was inside me. John had a similar problem. Thinking about me having sex while he was having sex halved rather than doubled his pleasure. We decided to try another swap but this time we would fuck separately so that the other could watch rather than both at the same time and we would both try to push the other's limits.

One of the little ironies of life is finding yourself planning your debaucheries at an orgy. But that is the way of things. A trip to the coffee shop unexpectedly ended with me being banged in all three holes by a teenager. It's spontaneous sex at an orgy that takes planning.

Downstairs, the Southern belle was at the center of a spit roast which transitioned into a double penetration. John's hand squeezed mine tight as we watched her mouth telling the story as the second cock entered her ass. Her eyes opened wide and seemed as if they might almost roll back in their sockets. Her mouth made no sound at all but was stretched so open the sides almost met. Then all her features relaxed as the prick slid home and she gave a low moan of pure satisfaction.

"I feel jealous", John said, "as a man that is."

The dark skinned girl who had partnered the belle earlier turned to John with a smile, "It's supposed to be better for guys, you know." After an exchange of meaningful glances with me, the girl kissed John full on the lips and her lubed finger began exploring. John's prick stood to attention almost instantly. She started to kneel to take him in her mouth but I had something different in mind.

John took some persuasion and demanded a significant quid pro quo but he agreed and so did our new friend Eve. I unwrapped one of the jeweled plugs from our totes and placed it in Eve's outstretched hand. Getting the item inside John took her a little time but the smile on his face showed it had been worth it..

I knelt on all fours at the center of the room while John and Eve fingered my ass. Eventually, it was decided that I was loose enough for John's cock to enter. He lay on his back as Eve helped me impale myself on his engorged rod.

This position was new to me. I had been fucked in the ass quite a few times by then but this was the first time I had been the active partner. It felt good to be the one in control. But I wouldn't be in control very long. I was more than ready for Eve's boyfriend, but he took his time licking my pierced nipples while Eve's tongue worked my slit.

"I'm going to fuck you now." His voice was calm, measured. Eve spread my legs and guided him in.

My whole being was focused on my pelvis and the two cocks inside me. I was full, fuller than I had ever been or ever imagined possible. I was being fucked by a stranger, a black man whose name I didn't even know. I was being fucked by a stranger while my husband watched. More than watched. I imagined the two cocks rubbing against each other inside me, separated by the narrowest sliver of skin. Each thrust of the black cock thrusting against John's. My husband was looking a stranger in the face as the stranger fucked his wife and fucked him at the same time.

I drifted off into a sensation-scape of cock and cock and ass and cunt and mouth. A hand (John's ?) wrapped itself in my hair and pulled my mouth open wide to take a third cock. This invasion pulled me back from the dreamland leaving me gasping for breath as a burning sensation welled up from my center. I closed my eyes tighter and rode the wave of bliss.

Eventually, all waves must crash on a beach somewhere. My wave left me lying face down on the floor in front of a dozen strangers while my husband pumped cum into my ass. He was loud. When he was done, he slid one of the black jeweled plugs in place as if stoppering a bottle of wine. A sour taste in my mouth told me that at least one of the other men had come inside me. Eve's boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

John's emission obliged him to take a pause. I was tired and could have used a break myself, maybe even join the group in the hot tub outside. But that would have meant an interruption and besides, I wanted Eve to be the one. I wanted to see John's white flesh impale her dark skin.

We kissed for a while which naturally led to more. Eve found my new jewelry fascinating, particularly the jewelry betwen my legs. We explored each other with our fingers and tongues. I came for what must have been the third time that evening, a personal best. In the middle of the climax, Eve demonstrated an unexpected use for my jeweled ass plug to pull a second orgasm out of me.

I was left lying on the rug with Eve grinding her pussy against my face, her own black jeweled plug hovering deliciously above me. I grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her slit to my tongue only to find my lips kissing John's cock instead.

Unknown hands placed a cushion under my shoulders allowing me to tip my head back to receive John's cock deep into my mouth and throat. He was stiff and ready. I guided him inside Eve: I was actually helping my husband fuck another woman.

I had seen this in porn but never in person and never imagined seeing so close: A cock sliding in and out of a perfectly shaved slit. I could see the way her flesh was stretched and moved by each thrust. When I pressed my face up close, I could feel the outline of his cock. This wasn't love or romance, It was lust, it was sex, pure sex. All three of us were enjoying each other's bodies for nothing more than carnal delight.

It was time to add a fourth.

The Southern Belle's hand removed the plug from Eve's ass and rubbed a little lubricant in with her fingertips. John's cock quickly filled the hole. Then she did the same for John.

I deep-throated a second cock. A long, thin, pinkish white cock with a very purple tip. I never saw the rest of its owner. Only the cock and ball sac dangling underneath.

John was still as the tip pressed against his butt-hole. The Southern Belle whispered words of encouragement I couldn't make out in John's ear. John gave a series of half grunts, half shouts as the cock slid into him. When he was fully inside, the pair of men fucked Eve together as if they were one body.

By this time I was utterly indifferent to anything other than the pleasure of the moment. Evidently, so was John: A man's cock was in his ass, his cock was in a woman. Did that make him straight or gay? John didn't care, all he cared about was that it felt good to be alive.

A hand guided my own towards my slit to pleasure myself. But what I was seeing with my eyes was sensation enough. More for the pleasure of the audience in the (now very full) room, a fifth joined us to complete an enfilade, offering his cock to each of the mouths at the other end of the pile in turn as they came. I could see nothing of this at the time of course except through the response of the audience and the changes in activity at my end.

The pinkish white cock pounded John's ass until it spent and then Johns cock pounded Eve. If only I could have known John was taking a cock in his mouth while I was watching him fuck a woman in the ass! I buried my tongue in Eve's slit and she buried her tongue in mine and John pounded relentlessly until he spent.

That just left my tongue and Eve's slit dangling dangerously above my head. John's cock had vacated her ass. The idea entered my head that it must feel empty. I filled the gap with my tongue and lips. Rimming is an act that I will only ever perform when I have utterly in the moment and have lost all sense of restraint.

For the second time that night, I brought Eve to a shuddering and very loud climax. Her thighs clasped my head cruelly with each cry. It was only when she was finished that I saw the fifth who had joined us. Since the other two cocks had come in an ass, I raised my legs to offer myself to him. He refused, wanking himself off over my chest, his seed landing across my breasts and throat.

There was enthusiastic applause from the audience that had gathered. John offered me his hand to help me stand, to wrap his arms around me and hug me but that wasn't what I had agreed to.

Standing was uncomfortable after being confined for so long but I forced myself to do so without complaint. I was bruised, tired and dirty, my body was splattered with cum and cunt juice, my hair dishevled. All I wanted to do was to go home, take a bath and sleep. But I had something more to do that night. It was time to keep my end of the bargain.

John's riding crop lay on the mantelpiece where he had put it at the start of our scene,  It was time to pick it up, make my way down to the basement and wait in line.