(Chastity’s background, from her perspective)
Ever since the 9th grade at my catholic school, I had been acutely aware of the opposite sex. But I was living in denial. With no siblings, prudish parents, and catholic nuns always chastising me for any hint of acknowledging sexual attraction, I was leading a sheltered life.
About half way through the 10th grade my body started really going through some physical changes. My boobs were getting larger; it seemed that Mom was having to buy me new bras every couple of months, and Dad started looking at me in ways that he never had before. I was taller than most of the other girls but most of that height was in my legs. Braces that I had worn since the 7th grade had done their job and my teeth were now perfectly straight.
I always thought that my lips were too big, but other girls would comment on how beautiful they thought they were and how they wished they had fuller lips. My first sexual contact of any nature was when another girl pressed me up against the wall in the girl’s locker room and forcibly kissed me. I was appalled! What would the sisters say if they had seen that? I could only imagine what Sister B. would say if she had witnessed that; “Only whores do that sort of thing!” And yet, reflecting on the incident, in fact, obsessing about it for the rest of that day and the days that followed, I was undoubtedly sexually intrigued.
I had never kissed a boy, never even dreamed of it. But after being kissed for the first time, even if it was a little yucky because it was a girl, I started thinking about it constantly. I would sometimes stare at one of the boys and imagine what it would be like for him to press me up against the wall and kiss me. It was about this time that I noticed another change in my body. When I would break out of the daydream of kissing a boy, I would notice that I was wet between the legs. Oh my, what would Sister B. say about that?
Despite my sexual awakening, I had become prudish myself, no doubt a byproduct of my parent’s ultra conservative values and upbringing, couple with the ever-present watchful eye of the sisters. By the 11th grade, the boys were starting to take a lot of interest in me, however, I would always be a little standoffish with them. Other girls in my class had obviously become sexually active and the rumors never ceased about who was having sex with whom. My desire to never betray the trust of my parents, or the sisters, ensured that I would not fall victim to carnal desires.
By my final year of high school, I had truly blossomed physically, and I became the victim of psychological bullying. By then, almost all the other girls in my class were sexually active with their boyfriends, some of them becoming the class tramps in that they would have sex with multiple guys. Only a few of us girls were holding out. The bullying began when the boys finally realized that they were not going to get anywhere with me. And not just the boys, the girls had become rather vicious in their rumor making as well
I knew that a lot of the kids were talking about me behind my back, saying some pretty awful things, and it hurt me to think that I was being targeted only because I was doing the right thing, while they weren’t. It came to a head one day when I walked past a group of boys that were all staring at me as I walked by. As soon I walked past them, I heard one of them make a very rude and distasteful remark of what he would like to do to me. To my credit, I did not acknowledge them – I never broke stride. However, a moment later I realized two things; I was holding my breath – and I was getting wet between the legs.
I finally came to the realization that I was blossoming sexually as well, but the relationship with my fellow classmates had become a battle of wills and I was not about to let them see me make a 180-degree change in my moral standards. So, at home, and in the privacy of my own bedroom, I discovered masturbation. This would be my lover until I graduated from high school and entered the adult world.
For two years after graduation, I slowly ventured out of my shell. My first boyfriend lasted for almost a year. He finally broke it off when he realized that I was not going to have sex with him unless we were married. I readily accepted the breakup because I realized that I really did not want to marry him. My second boyfriend was more persuasive and he took my virginity, but he still did not meet my criteria for husband material. Then I met Tom.
By the time I was 20, I was working for a temporary agency as an assembler and Tom was in charge of the production floor. I could tell he was interested in me by the multiple trips he would make to production floor. He never came out there without stopping to see what I was doing and would often engage me in conversation. He was cute, and from what I could tell, he was good husband material. By then my boobs had swelled up to DD size, and when I started wearing tight sweaters to work, he was hooked. Within a week were dating.
We were married six months later and had a great couple of years, then tragedy struck. I had to have a hysterectomy and my dreams of becoming a mother were shattered. After some months of fighting depression, I decided to not just work at a job, but to seek a career. Tom suggested that I try with the airlines. I applied and got hired as a flight attendant with a major carrier.
Tom had convinced me that I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He worshiped my body and we had a great sex life. My job would take me away from home for a couple of days at a time and I always wanted our reunion to be special when I came back home from a trip. He bought me some very sexy clothing and I enjoyed dressing up for him. He would make us drinks and I would strut around in a sexy outfit until he couldn’t resist anymore and we would have amazing sex.
I had just returned home one evening from a trip and donned some very sexy and revealing attire. Tom made the drinks and we were starting to get a little silly, and a little playful. Then the doorbell rang. Tom went to see who it was. I was shocked when he returned to the family room with a strange man I had never seen before. They were friends from an old job of Tom’s. Although I was probably more than half-way to being drunk, I was still somewhat embarrassed to be standing in front of this stranger dressed the way I was. To top it off, I could tell by the way that he was looking at me that I might as well have nothing on at all, as he was clearly undressing me with his eyes.
His name was Jim, and he was very vocal about how nice he thought the house was. Tom had offered to have me give Jim a tour of the house but before we could start, Jim asked to use the restroom. When Jim closed the door to the powder room, I received one of the biggest shocks of my life.
Tom pressed me up against the wall and kissed me. For some deeply subconscious reason, I immediately flashed back to the first time I was ever kissed like that, by a girl no less, and felt a strange sort of excitement. Tom asked me if I thought Jim was cute and I said ‘yes.’ Then my loving husband did the most shocking thing I could ever imagine; he suggested that I let Jim, a complete stranger, do anything he wanted to do to me tonight. At first, I wanted to protest but he never gave me a chance to talk, and the more detailed he got about what I should let Jim do to me, the less I wanted to talk. And much to my surprise, I felt a hint of wetness start to develop between my legs.
When Jim came out of the powder room, Tom went upstairs to the office. I started giving a tour of the house to Jim and it quickly ended up in the master bedroom. As we passed by the mirrored closet doors he stopped and turned around, gently pressing me up against closet door. Then he asked me if I knew why he was there tonight. When he said that my husband wanted him to fuck me, I just about fainted. Then he started kissing me, and at that moment I could envision ever boy that I ever dreamed about kissing me in high school, passionately kissing me now. I was lost in the moment. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing. I felt like he should stop, but I didn’t want him to. However, I could feel my body starting to betray me as my pussy started to tingle.
He started to fondle and squeeze my tits while still passionately kissing me, and at that moment, Sister B.’s words rang back into my head, “Only whores do that sort of thing!” But I didn’t want him to stop – I didn’t want to stop. And in the next few milliseconds I relived my entire high school experience, but with an alternate ending. I was not a prude. I was not standoffish. I had sex with the boys, all the boys, so I could be popular and be in the “in-crowd.” They liked my lips and loved to kiss them. They liked my tits and I readily gave them access. Although I could masturbate, I didn’t have to because I could have sex with any boy I wanted, anytime I wanted, anywhere I wanted. I was the class whore – and I liked it!
Jim reached down and put his hand under my dress and started playing with my pussy. I am sure that I was given away as a complete slut when he put his finger inside me and felt the wetness. I started kissing him back passionately and can honestly say that at that point, I completely forgot I was married. I was a slut, and this man was treating me like a whore, and I liked it!
In the end, he fucked me like a mad man with his big cock and made me say and do naughty things that I never thought I would say or do. I couldn't believe that he actually asked me to beg him to fuck me like a whore - but I did it, and I liked it!
After cumming inside me with what felt like buckets, he refused to let me clean up. He wanted me to stay messy with cum dripping all over my face, my tits, and out of my pussy and down my legs for my husband to see.
My husband . . . my husband. Oh, that’s right, I have a husband! I have a husband that I love very much, and love to please. OK, but let's see what my husband thinks about me after tonight.
After Jim had left, Tom started asking me what happened. With each detail of how Jim did everything that Tom had predicted, Tom got more excited, kissing me more passionately with each revelation. And as he got more excited, I got more excited. When he said that in the future he would occasionally bring guys home to fuck me and that he wanted me to be a good little whore for them, I almost came right then and there. When Tom couldn't stand it any more he pulled his cock out, lifted my dress, and fucked me standing up at the base of the staircase. Afterwards, and for the first time in my life, I reflected on having cum from two different men in my pussy at the same time – and I liked it!
So, let’s see. My husband wants me to fuck like a whore – I finally realize that I like to fuck like a whore – Heck! This shouldn’t be too far of a stretch!
