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This book is dedicated to my mother Lillian. Who always told me “Life is not about learning to weather the storms, it’s about learning to dance in the rain!” – I love you mother, thank you so much for all you’ve done to help me become the person I am.
My name is Jessica Fox. This is not my real name, but for reasons of anonymity this is the name I’ve chosen for myself. I share these stories with you as therapy of sorts. I suffered from exhaustion at work, had a breakdown of sorts and finally was forced to take an extended vacation from the law firm I work for. Yes, I’m an attorney. I’m fully aware of how most of society views my profession. This view is also one of the factors that brought me to my therapist. She became my dear friend and helped me through a very difficult time in my life. I’m finally back to living and loving life again and for that I will be forever in her debt. I will change her name to Dr. Davis for the sake of story telling and anonymity.
My recovery back into normal life was almost a six month process. Dr. Davis, getting me to talk openly told me that ‘confession was good for the soul’. She assured me that absolutely anything I confided to her was in the doctor / patient confidentiality category. Short of running bamboo sticks under her fingernails, she would share my information with no one, for any reason. I began to open up on our first visit. She came to the conclusion after my second visit that I had pent up guilt for things I’ve done that was tearing at my soul. She gave me homework. (I had told her I like to write) I was to write my confessions down and bring them to her on every visit. I returned home after this assignment and poured myself a drink. A huge load was removed from my shoulders simply being away from work. This sort of thing happens regularly in my profession. Mine was a rather complicated and drawn out reason. My law firm had no problem giving me time off. My cases were doled out to my fellow attorneys and a junior attorney was brought on to pick up any other loose ends and take on the simple cases. I had nothing but time to keep me company. I sat at my computer and stared at the screen for quite some time before I began to type. Once I started I found it hard to stop. I began writing down all the things I’d been keeping inside me that I shared with no one up to this point. Dr. Davis was right. The act of simply writing it down was a medicine unto itself. It felt good to confess. It also felt good to be writing again. At work I wrote every day, but they were legal briefs and such and completely boring. Still I tried to write with style and flair. At one point in college I was a journalism major. I loved to write. I would write about anything I felt strongly about. But a professor told me mediocre writers are a dime a dozen and the pay is terrible. He convinced me to change majors to something that would provide a decent income. I changed my major to law. I’d been a star on the high school debate team. Something I did on a dare, a joke as it were. I was one of the popular girls. It was suppose to be an initiation of sorts into some sort of club. It turned out that I loved it. I loved to argue (just ask my mom) and here was a perfect outlet to unleash a pent up intellectual hunger. I became the debate teams ‘ringer’. We were in a national competition and came in 5th in a line up of 50 teams.
A good line right now would be “and I never looked back.” But that would be a lie. I had been looking back. Had becoming a lawyer been a big mistake? Maybe yes, maybe no. It certainly did provide a nice income, no doubts there.
I printed out my first week’s worth of confessions for my next session with Dr. Davis. After handing them to her I felt almost overcome with shame. She was about to read some extremely personal and (what I felt were) shameful things about me. Things I’ve never shared with anybody before. EVER. She asked me what was wrong and I began crying. So began our second session together. She didn’t read my confessions while I was there. Instead we talked about shame and guilt and forgiveness of ones self.
The next afternoon my phone rang. It was Dr. Davis. She had an excitement in her voice. “Jessie, your writing skills are very good. I mean really! I thought I was reading a wonderful erotic novel! You might be in the wrong profession dear! As for the content of your stories (this was the first time she referred to them as ‘stories’), well, we have some serious talking to do. I think I know the root of a lot of your issues.” She never referred to them as problems, always issues. Our next session, I brought more confessions / stories. During our conversation that afternoon she did a bit of confessing of her own. She said she had found herself fantasizing about my stories when her husband and she were making love. That, shortly after reading my first story she masturbated. Her telling me THAT put all sorts of new shit in my brain to feel bad about, and I told her this. That began the catalyst for analyzing my current issues.
I felt I was a raging slut. I thought I might be a nymphomaniac. I felt I was probably an alcoholic illegal bahis and drug addict . . . all these things came pouring out and to the surface. Dr. Davis assured me she had extensive experience dealing with people who suffered from these things, and I was not any of them.
I felt I was a raging slut: I tried to count one night, the number of people I’d had sex with in my life. I was 33 years old at this time. I lost my virginity when I was 17. My sex life was 16 years old and I estimated (I had to estimate, I was disgusted with myself!) I had had sex with between 50 and 60 different people! That’s three and a half people per year! Let’s round that up to four people per year since I’ve never actually had sex with a circus freak. Dr. Davis explained that a real slut would have no idea how many sex partners they’d had. They’d have sex with strangers at the drop of a hat. They rarely masturbate; instead they’d go out and pick up a partner for real sex. They’d do this several times a week, some would have periods where they do this every single day of the week and would carry on for weeks on end with this sort of behavior. The most sluttish day of my life I did three different people in one day. Two men and one woman.
I rarely used condoms. And this fact alone always weighed heavily on me. I’ve been ever so lucky in my life. I felt as though I was taunting God, playing Russian roulette with my life. In all my time of sexual exploration (we call it that instead of “Slutting Around”) I only suffered one STD, and antibiotics cleared that up.
I felt I might be a nymphomaniac. She explained that a nymphomaniac masturbates and has sex several times a day. Every day, without fail. If in a relationship, the partner usually can’t perform to the needs of the nympho and she’ll find others to help her with her seemingly uncontrollable desire to have sex. Several times a day. Even when she’s on her period. The high majority of nymphomaniacs don’t enjoy anal sex. Most use oral sex simply to achieve an erection. It’s usually always about the vaginal penetration with a true nymphomaniac. (OK, so I’m NOT a nympho.)
I’m an alcoholic, right? Actually, no. Some nights I’ll come home and have a cocktail or two. Sometimes three. I sometimes go weeks without so much as a beer. There are those occasions where I do sit and decide I’m going to tie on a good buzz. Those nights usually end with sex. And if you count masturbation as sex, then ALL of those nights ended in sex. I am a sucker for fine quality liquor. I have expensive taste in booze, and I usually have it on the rocks.
But I’m a pot-head though, right?! Actually, no. A ‘pot-head’ smokes pot almost constantly. They stay high pretty much their entire waking hours. The pot I smoke in a year would last them maybe a day. Dr. Davis told me all of this. She had no reason to lie to me. If I had been any of those things we’d be dealing with them. What she DID say was troubling me was issues with sex and guilt. These were the things we would work on. I then spent the next 3 months confessing my entire sexual history to this woman in written format. Very therapeutic on multiple levels. She and I have become very dear friends. Not just on a doctor / patient level, but as two human beings who enjoy each others company and know each others secrets and still love each other anyway. Dr. Davis, you’re a true BFF. Thank you from the bottom of my soul! I.O.U.!
Dear reader: How shall I present these stories? I’m not sure. I did not write them chronologically, I wrote them on level of guilt. All the names and places have been changed to protect the guilty. Guilty of what you ask? Hmmm. I guess, guilty of having sex with a woman such as myself.
I’m a very pretty woman, this I know. Men hit on me regularly. Sometimes they need not say a word to me, I can see it in their eyes. I see a lot in the faces and eyes of the people I deal with on a daily basis. My services as an attorney are usually sought out when a person is in trouble. In a nutshell, my job is to get them out of trouble. To do so, I must play by a very strict set of rules. And every rule has its loopholes. To be a truly great attorney you must know these rules inside and out and be a creative thinker to expose and utilize any and all loopholes. I’m very good at what I do. One of the things that make me so good is my ability to ‘read’ people. I know when somebody is lying; I know when they’re not. I can tell if they’re happy, sad, angry, and sullen. I can also tell if a person is feeling amorous.
Being pretty, I’ve used this trait to get what I want when it comes to sex. Over the years I’ve become a master of seduction. Married or not, if I found a person I wanted to fuck, I’d make it happen. I LOVE sex, plain and simply put. There is nothing plain or simple about my taste in sex. I like hot, steamy, kinky, nasty, kind of rough sex. What you are about to read are my confessions of a sexual nature. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.
My virginity and how I lost it.
I was 17. My boyfriend Tim was 18. He was the typical high school illegal bahis siteleri football jock and a senior. I was the typical high school cheerleader and a junior. We’d been an item for several months leading up to our schools prom. Until prom night the most we’d ever done was hot and heavy making out and petting. Once, out parking late at night, I gave him a hand job. It was the very first time I’d ever seen a man’s erect penis or for that matter held one. We were making out pretty hot and heavy while I stroked him up and down. He tried pushing my head down to put him in my mouth, but I said no. After he came I took my top off and let him suck my nipples and put his hand in my pants and finger me. He was doing a horrible and somewhat annoying job of masturbating me. I made him stop. (I was in my cheer leading uniform) I pushed him away, back over to the driver’s seat. I slipped off my shorts and panties and put on a little show for him. I laid the seat back some, spread my legs so he’d get a really good view and began masturbating. With my free hand I pulled and twisted my nipples. He watched me very intently. As he watched he too stroked himself. I made myself cum twice. After my second one I shifted a little in my seat to face him and give him a better view. When he started to cum I reached over and made him let me finish him. When he shot his load I leaned over and let it shoot into my face and opened mouth. I sat back up with my face covered with his semen. I licked my lips to taste even more of it. My girlfriends had told me it tasted gross. They were wrong. I leaned over to kiss him and he pushed me away laughing. He was obviously grossed out at the thought of kissing me. I reached around to the back seat and retrieved his letterman’s jacket and used it to wipe my face and mouth. Afterwards I tossed it at him and said “FUCK YOU! Take me home right now!” He thought it was funny.
We went to the prom together. I had become obsessed with what we did in the car that night. I decided that on prom night he and I were going to fuck. I was going to suck his cock and drink his cum. Then he was going to fuck me. He was going to bust my cherry. I could hardly wait for prom night.
Prom nightcame and after the party we found ourselves back at the same parking spot. He had brought pillows and a nice comforter. We made a nice comfy spot under a beautiful starry sky and I lost my virginity. It went off exactly as I had imagined it would. We got naked and kissed and felt each other up like fiends. I lay him on his back, opened his legs and knelt between them. I bent over and gave my first blow job. It lasted less than a minute. When he did come, I held the head tightly between my lips and stroked his shaft feverishly. His ejaculate was massive and I drank every drop. I quickly moved atop him and force an open mouth kiss on him. (A little pay back for what happened when he refused to kiss me. No, the letterman’s jacket doesn’t count as pay back!) Then I spit in my hand and rubbed the spit and semen into my already moist virgin vagina (I was on the pill) guided and eased him inside me. I felt my hymen tear and was rather shocked that it didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would. The little blood that it did produce acted as a lubricant too. After a minute or two the pain was completely gone and I was enjoying immensely my first full blown sexual experience. Tim was madly in love with me after that night. Tim had a baby brother. Tim had thought enough to bring a package of baby wipes for the evenings festivities. He also brought a cooler of drinks and some snacks. We were set for the evening. We lay on that blanket at the edge of that field most of the night and fucked like . . . well like teenagers fucking for the first time. Loosing my virginity was a very happy and pleasing experience.
Am I a pervert or just a common slut?
I love and always have loved hot, nasty, passionate, steamy sex. When I think back on my erotic life I remember many of my experiences. Some, with great fondness. Others with shame. I would like to share with you one such shameful experience that I’ve completely gotten over and now remember with a “wow, I can’t believe I did that”
It was New Years Eve 2007. I went to a night club with a girl friend from work. I was still dressed in my working attire, a navy colored business skirt suit, and medium heels. I went to the party knowing full well I was going to pick up a man and have sex. I hadn’t had any sex for almost 2 months and I was horny as hell. Pulling into the lot with my girlfriend I noticed a Motel 6 right next door. “Perfect” I thought to myself.
I’m an attractive woman, I know this. I’m use to men hitting on me in night clubs, even though I rarely go to them. (Women too, but that’s all another confession for later) Tonight was different, I was on the prowl for sex and I would have my pick of any man I wanted. (And I definitely wanted!) Within five minutes of entering the night club an absolutely gorgeous man hit on me. We sat together and had drinks and a wonderful conversation. The more we talked, the more we drank. I got very drunk. When canlı bahis siteleri I drink, I get horny. Hell, I was already horny when I walked into the place. Within a few hours I would have done him right there on the table in front of everybody.
I don’t remember what his name was. I don’t remember his friend’s names either. After we’d been talking for a few hours another man appeared. I was introduced and he sat down and joined us. Shortly afterwards the other friend showed up and also joined us. The three of them were Marines. They were due to ship out to Iraq in 3 days and this night was their last hurrah of sorts. At midnight I planted a huge lip lock on the first man I had met. The other two men were dateless and had gone without a new years kiss. I in turn took care of that and gave them both big open mouthed kisses. The last one ran his hand up my leg and squeezed my butt cheek. I sat back down with a man on either side of me and one at the table across from me. Both men on my sides began rubbing my thighs under the table and I let them. Eventually one of them ran their hand to my crotch and began rubbing my slit through my panties. That’s when I decided I was going to do it. “Did you gentlemen happen to notice the Motel 6 next door?” I asked them. They all nodded yes and smiled. “I motion that the four of us adjourn to said motel and have some fun. What say you?” The three of them couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Before we left, I found my girlfriend and told her I was leaving. She knew I was going to pick up a guy for sex and assumed I’d found one and gave me the thumbs up sign. (She had found one too!)
What happened in that motel room that night was without a doubt the kinkiest and most perverted sex I’ve ever had. I hit the bathroom first, pooped and took a shower. When I exited the bathroom I was only wrapped in a towel. The three of them were all sitting on the bed and stared at me with complete lust. I dropped the towel and stood naked before them. “Who wants to eat me first?” I asked as I sat in an easy chair and slowly and seductively spread my legs over the chairs arms. I don’t remember who was first but as quick as I said it, one of them was kneeling in front of me licking and sucking. I looked at the other two and told them they’d need to shower first. The two of them raced to the bathroom door and did as I told them. The man going down on me was still fully clothed. I scooted closer to the edge of the chair and spread my legs a little further apart. He was wonderful! Did he ever know how to eat pussy! I came so quickly! He got me off 2 or 3 times before his friends exited the bathroom. They came out and stood there next to us. I pushed my licker up and told him it was his turn in the shower. He stood up, smiled at me and went to the bathroom. Both men just stood there. “You can’t fuck me until you eat me, that is my rule.” I told them. Boom! Another man was kneeling in front of me licking me. I looked up at the other man and stared at him and slowly opened my mouth. His cock was beautiful! Long and fat, and hard as a rock. He moved closer and slipped it into my open mouth. Almost as soon as he entered me he came. A huge load. He immediately apologized. I told him not to and told him I hoped he had more just like that. (Yes, I swallowed it). Licker number 2 was also very proficient at eating pussy. I came within a couple of minutes of my first mouth shot. The two men switched positions and I suck him. He also came very quickly. He pulls out of me and my next man had finished his shower and moved into position for his first blow job. And like his two friends before him, came very quickly. In the course of ten minutes all three had cum in my mouth and I swallowed each load. I was now ready to be fucked. I stood up and suggested we move to the nice big bed. One of them poured some tequila into 4 of the disposable cups and we all toasted to nasty sex and I climbed onto the bed.
“I want you men to do what ever you want with me. I’m open to anything you want. But right now I need one of you to get over here and fuck me!” And the three Marines began, what I would say was, the time of their lives. They did everything you could imagine and probably some things you couldn’t . . . and I let them.
You have to understand, I was drunk. Very drunk and every single inhibition I ever had was tossed out the window. Not a single condom was used that night. I have no idea how many times they came or how many times I did. I remember it was a LOT. I remember passing out after one such orgasm. I was exhausted! I remember coming to for a moment and one of them was still pumping me in my ass. I fell back asleep. This happened as the first rays of the morning sun cut into the room. Somebody pulled the curtains and blocked out the light. The room went dark again. I was flat on my stomach again. I felt one of them climb on top of me and ram his cock into my well lubricated and loose ass hole. In my drunken state it still felt wonderful and I moaned as he began pounding me. I shut my eyes to enjoy. I felt someone tugging at my hair and I raised my head. I heard “Open that pretty mouth slut”. I opened my mouth. He was not gentle. He was throat fucking me. I was feeling dizzy. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I gagged a few times. “Don’t you dare puke bitch!” I heard him say. Before the two of them came, I passed out cold.
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