After the Breakup, the Debauchery

My friend (also divorced), who has already shared her experiences on your website, convinced me to write mine as well. Even though I’ve known her for quite a few years and we’re "best friends," I was shocked by what she wrote, because I didn’t know the details. Now, however, she’s waiting to read my story (I hope you publish it), and she’ll surely be extremely more surprised.

I’m 39 years old (for real), divorced, with a child in the early grades of middle school. I take very good care of my appearance, and without dressing provocatively, I still catch men’s glances on the street.

What I’m about to describe happened about five years ago, shortly before I made the final decision to divorce (I was already separated). What happened to me was completely unexpected. Since I married young, I’d had almost no experience with relationships, let alone sexual experience.

At the time, I’d started working at a fashion atelier. It was a full complex with administrative offices, workshops, and even a photography studio. Due to a heavy workload, I stayed late one evening to finish something. I was missing my supervisor’s signature, so I went to the studio to get it. Instead of using the main entrance, I took a smaller side door for convenience—one that had long been permanently closed and led behind the changing rooms.

I noticed the studio lights were off, while the main room was lit up. The sounds I heard made me stay silent, and stepping onto a folded carpet, I managed to peek through a crack in the partitions.

Inside the room was one of our photographers (the most attractive one, who’d occasionally made various "moves" on me) along with my supervisor and a model. They’d started a test photoshoot, supposedly just to determine the setup they’d follow. But the supervisor’s interventions, while initially bold, soon turned aggressive.

At first, the girl giggled, but then she responded completely. After a while, the photographer left, closing the door behind him. What followed was straight out of a porn film. I recognized the girl from previous shoots; she wasn’t older than twenty, but she seemed far more experienced than I was. They began undressing each other. I was impressed by how well my supervisor had kept himself—his flat stomach and bulging muscles made him look fortyish, not the sixty he actually was. And his cock, as far as I could tell, was beyond criticism (you only see such things in movies).

For about ten to fifteen minutes, they played intensely, the girl almost always taking the lead, though they hadn’t yet had sex. From the very beginning, I started getting aroused, but soon I felt myself swelling all over. I hadn’t had sex with my husband in months (and even then it was problematic), and I rarely brought myself to climax alone. Without realizing it, I began playing with my already swollen nipples, and with my hand down below, I discovered how wet I already was. I knew no one used that corridor since it was always closed, so I felt completely alone. The scene before me was incredibly arousing.

I don’t remember ever being so turned on. My head was spinning, and every now and then I had to steady myself because my legs couldn’t hold me well. I must have been there for at least twenty minutes when suddenly I felt a warm breath behind me and two gentle hands wrapping around me. I turned in shock and found myself face to face with the photographer who’d left earlier.

Before I could say anything, he gave me a passionate kiss on the mouth and embraced me fiercely. I knew I should leave, but I had no strength to resist. After a brief hesitation, I responded just as passionately. He started kissing my breasts, expertly caressing my entire body with his hands, especially between my legs, lifting my skirt. My legs had started to buckle, so he nearly lifted me in his arms, opened the door to the room, and we stepped inside.

The supervisor was lying on the velvet couch, and the girl had his entire cock deep in her mouth. They were startled to see us, but the supervisor urged his companion to continue. We ended up on the opposite identical couch, and soon the photographer’s skilled hands had completely undressed me. He immediately buried his face between my legs. He was such a master that I barely managed to hold back from coming. Any inhibitions I’d had were completely gone, and I reacted like a madwoman, unleashing all the repressed libido I hadn’t even known existed. Until then, in my entire life, I’d only ever been with my husband. I pulled the photographer on top of me and almost begged him to let me do the same to the girl across from us.

She was indeed a very pretty girl, and I threw my entire self into what I was doing. I did it with such madness that she briefly stopped me. Then I started kissing her all over and returned again below. Still, I kept turning to watch what the other couple was doing on the opposite couch. The two men exchanged a few glances, stood up simultaneously, and before I realized it, they’d switched places. Still on my knees and stunned, the supervisor pushed my head down with both hands onto his swollen cock. I hesitated at first, but with a bit more pressure from him, I soon found myself taking him deep into my mouth.

The truth is, although he was much older than the photographer, he was better equipped—longer (at least three fingers’ length) and thicker. After a while, he turned me onto all fours, played a little with his cock at my wet slit, and then slowly pushed himself all the way in. He started fucking me at a rhythm that drove me wild.

I dug my nails into the couch and began moaning from both pleasure and pain, tears streaming down my face. When I briefly thought he was about to pull out, I almost screamed at him not to stop. I’d never felt like this before, and in the past, I would’ve considered such behavior worthy of a "slut." The supervisor decided to change positions—he lay down on the rug and pulled me on top of him. I took his enormous cock deep inside me and started riding him wildly, while he played with my breasts, twisting my nipples so hard they hurt. I came with such intensity I thought I’d pass out, and for a moment I stopped. But he hadn’t finished yet and ordered me to take him into my mouth. Soaked as I was, I put him in my mouth and tried to use all my technique to repay him. While I was playing with him for two or three minutes and felt he was about to come, I felt a tongue kissing me from behind. The other couple had approached us and the girl began to attend to me while the photographer just watched. While I had it deep all in my mouth and was playing with his large balls, I felt the other one entering me. My reaction was such that it seems it helped the other one to come and, holding my head, he came with an incredibly large quantity inside my mouth. After a little while we stopped, exhausted, without the photographer finishing inside me. We got dressed and without saying many words, we left a little later. I understood that my life had now changed and at that exact moment I also made the final decision for the divorce.

With the director, we developed a relationship based solely on good sex, for several years. In fact, several times the photographer had also come with us, half the times alone and the other times with nice company. When it was just the three of us, we would go to the photographer's studio at his house. We would initially occupy ourselves with our work (choosing photos and themes, for example) and after the fatigue of several hours of work, we would throw ourselves into the orgy. I couldn't get enough of having wild sex with both of them without inhibitions.

Many times, when I knew what would follow, I was turned on from the beginning and was impatient for when the fun would finally begin. From one shore, I had found myself on the opposite bank. I could never have imagined I would live so intensely. When the photographer had company (usually they were young and very beautiful girls from the circuit), then we were always at the director's house and while we would start as couples, we would end up in a wild orgy.

I will describe to you only one time that "had something different". That afternoon, the photographer brought a new friend of his to the director's house. He, as a good host, had cooked some food (he had it as a hobby) and I had brought something with me as a supplement. After we ate and drank plenty of wine, we all sat on the huge sofa and a movie was put on the video.

From the beginning, our new friend seemed strange to me. She was very intelligent-witty with an almost perfect body but behaved somewhat abruptly. After a while, I thought she might be "bi". Watching the movie, I couldn't hold back any longer, I put my hand on our friend's well-endowed organ and began to "activate" it with my mouth. I had been aroused and impatient for an hour.

The other girl was similarly attending to her friend. Soon we were lying on the thick carpet covering the floor with the television showing the porn movie. The other girl seemed to be very well-practiced and was close to driving the photographer crazy with her tongue. I knew that after a while the couples would get mixed up into almost one group, and I always liked to be the center of attention. While we were all naked, only the other girl had remained half-naked. At some point, as I was on my knees on all fours and enjoying with closed eyes the lovemaking my well-endowed friend was giving me, I felt on my face another one trying to find my mouth. I was barely holding back from having an orgasm, trying to prolong the pleasure I was receiving and, accustomed to this process from other times, with voracity I grabbed it and put it in my mouth. However, it seemed to me that something strange was happening and when I opened my eyes I was shocked.

The tool I was taking in my mouth belonged to the other girl. For a moment I tried to pull back, but on the one hand she with both her hands pushed my head onto her, shoving the cock almost all the way into my mouth, and on the other hand, my partner was so good that by now nothing could hold back my orgasm. Almost simultaneously, my friend also finished deep inside me.

As soon as I could pull away, I saw that we were dealing with a transsexual. I had never seen anything like it before. The other two knew it beforehand but hadn't told me anything. Subsequently, the photographer began to fuck her normally while she was on all fours, with one hand playing with her swollen organ. The surprise came when she came before the other and I saw the fluid soaking her palm. For the rest of the evening, both of my friends attended almost exclusively to me and for a grand finale, they had the transvestite fuck me. At first I refused strongly, but their unbearable insistence bent my reaction and I accepted on the condition that she wear a condom and only straight sex. The image of the transvestite fucking a woman turned them on. However, no ??? came to orgasm in the end.

From that night on, I rejected the photographer from our company. Twice (before I finally split definitively with the director) we also invited someone else to our company. The first time I remember we seduced a young hotel bartender (without particular success) and the other time a taxi driver. Especially the latter possessed the thickest organ I have ever seen on a man. It was a little shorter than the director's but it was indescribable how thick it was (my palm wouldn't close around it), full of thick veins.

For the first time then, two men took me simultaneously, with my friend fucking me from behind for the first time. Even though until then I had resisted, that time I asked him for it myself. I wouldn't say it drove me crazy, but at that moment I probably liked it.

The new friend (taxi driver), I liked him so much that I invited him a few times alone to my house for wild situations. At that time I had already split with the director, and I had acquired a fetish. I went crazy taking him in my mouth and many times, depending on what state of arousal I was in, making him finish in my mouth. Sometimes with the taxi driver, I would go down to his taxi and I really enjoyed making him cum in my mouth quickly. When I went up to the house alone, I would play wildly until I finished.

It seems that the control I had over the other with this method aroused me very much, especially when he was equipped like that. At that time I was now out of control. My blood was boiling and I did things that today I would be ashamed to do. Many times we would talk on the phone and almost always it aroused me to such a degree that it either brought me to the point of begging him to meet (something that happened rarely), or forced me to have phone sex. One of those nights I convinced him to come over late. I prepared myself properly, wearing sexy lingerie, and waited for him eagerly after making sure I’d be alone. But when I opened the door, he wasn’t alone. He put me in an intense state of embarrassment with how provocatively I was dressed, expecting only him. He introduced his friend as his best man. At some point, he pulled me aside and told me that since he couldn’t stay, he’d brought a substitute, and he insistently forced me to promise I’d have sex with him. When he left, I slowly started talking with the other guy, and later we ended up in bed. He was a volcano—quickly breaking down any reservations I had. We made love in the most unlikely positions, and he took me everywhere, sometimes very sweetly and gently, other times with fierce passion. When he finally left, after only a few hours, my friend arrived. After making me describe in complete detail everything I’d done with the other man during the previous two hours, we had sex too.

The strange thing is that although I thought I’d already had my fill and was completely satisfied after such intensity earlier, he managed to arouse me again, and soon we were making wild love. His almost supernatural thickness, deeply carved with thick veins, drove me wild. Many times, even after I’d already come earlier, I’d cum again while playing with myself, and he’d cum in my mouth, on my face. Before, I used to believe I could only have one orgasm each time. The same scene repeated itself three more times.

He no longer came alone—once again with his so-called best man, and the other two times with two different friends of his. I realized then that, taking advantage of whatever weakness I had, he had essentially put me “up for grabs.” The last time, he arrived nearly drunk with two others. I didn’t have the strength to kick them out, but at that moment I decided (and followed through) that it would be the last time. That night, I had sex with all three of them and behaved worse than “a street whore.” They’d even brought a video camera with them and recorded many hot moments.

I had been careful and wore a mask during all the scenes so I wouldn’t be recognized. That night was the craziest I’d ever lived. From the intense dizziness, I almost fainted. After resting for a while, we played the movie we’d shot, which turned us on again and started a new round. This time, they asked me to dance a strip-tease. I gave it my all, using even my favorite props for the performance. I threw myself into it completely, and the result was better than any professional’s.

They dropped the video camera, rushed over me, and literally tore me apart once again. I’ve kept that tape, and I still can’t believe the scenes that were recorded. I managed to have all three of them simultaneously, each in one of my holes.

Since then, I’ve calmed down, and everything that happened during that period surprises me, and actually makes me feel ashamed. It seems it was just a transitional phase that has passed, and I’ve returned to my normal self.

Did you get shocked, girlfriend?

Did you see that no one—no matter how calm and reserved they may seem—can hide a page of their life that defies the image others have of them? So don’t be ashamed of what you’ve described either!

There are worse things out there!