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He came very quickly and stayed in me - buried up to the hilt as his quivering cock emptied its contents into my newly ravished cunt. In fact, Colin's sleeping presence provides in equal measure a bit of calming reassurance and a sense of enhanced wickedness about this whole thing. It's not as if he could rape me through the screen. I took another sip of water and clicked "Next Chat".

"Fucked twice in three hours by two different men," I thought to myself.

I knew nothing about how to give a blowjob (Colin taught me all that in the months ahead), but whatever I was doing Bruce seemed to like it. " Fingers shaking, I typed back "Hi Pete." Then added. First time on here." "Welcome, then Hannah." he replied. Over the next few nights I repeated the experiment in front of strangers from Germany (some very late night owls there! The feeling after each of these encounters was the same - a dirty, slutty shaming feeling that I knew would last until the next night when the red blood would once more pump around my veins as I trawled the net looking for my next exhibitionism venue.

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On two occasions, I've been mistaken at events for a chassis dolly - the term Formula One teams use to describe the models who are hired to lounge on cars' body works and look sexy. We chatted and danced together a bit, and although he was 28 and I was 17 I remembered thinking he was nice.

I know I am far from alone in having what is often referred to as "the slut fantasy".

The idea of being taken by a stranger while my unsuspecting husband lives on in ignorance would probably not be very practical or attractive in real life, but it is a common fantasy among married women, and the thought of it one day happening has been a useful turn on during sex with my spouse. It is intended for my female followers more than for my male followers, but my co-writer assures me that both could enjoy it at various levels.

Du Pont had ejaculated into me three hours earlier on his sofa - and thoughts running through my head of how I'd lain there gasping for breath my legs wide open and my knees resting on his shoulders as he pounded my virginal pussy with his thirty-something year-old naked cock. In one hand I had my Louis Vuitton clutch and in the other my phone on which I'd just used Uber to book a ride to Los Tres Amigos. All the tables at Los Tres Amigos were full but there was space at the bar so I walked up an ordered a Margarita.

Bruce took my hand silently and I let him lead me to his motorbike. He had brought a second helmet and I put it on and got on the saddle and clasped my hands around his tummy. My hurriedly-washed hair was still damp and although I'd stepped from the showed not ten minutes ago, I was already bathed in a nervous sweat. I sat on a bar stool and sipped it, looking around and noticing that I was not the only girl there but I seemed to be the only lone girl there. A figure took the stool next to me and ordered "I'll have the same as my friend, Sara." I looked up and saw the man who had to be Ian. He was handsome but in a normal way - no film star but with a look of intelligence and mischief.