Hi – As the bio says, my first name is Cathy. Let’s skip my last name. Like the character in this story, I’m in my twenties. That’s probably the only thing she and I have in common. I’ve never been married and I’ve never done most of the things she did in the month after her husband left her.
I’m not a virgin. But I haven’t had a lot of boyfriends either. And no one would ever pay me to model, especially naked. A few years ago I convinced my then current boyfriend to use his new digital camera to take pictures of me. No one other than the two of us would ever see them, since they wouldn’t have to be sent out for processing like 35mm. I wasn’t so worried about someone seeing my naked body as much as just being seen. I’m not photogenic.
I practically had to twist his arm to do it because he’d seen me enough times with my bra off. If it hadn’t been digital I’d have concluded the whole idea was a waste of film. I’m not bad looking in a heavy support bra. My face is my best feature. My breasts are my worst, especially without support. I think that’s why most of my heroines are small breasted.
For years I’ve been writing stories to amuse myself. Most of them aren’t that good when I read them a year later. But even the bad ones are fun to write. For a while I’ve been doing a series where a bunch of liberated women have formed a writing club that meets through the internet. The original core group lived near each other, but many friends of friends have joined who live in other parts of the country. The women submit entries to Laura by e-mail. If she likes the entry, which she usually does, after correcting errors she posts it on hidden pages inside a freebie website. The main page shows accidental viewers a story about a camping trip. But the women in this informal club know how to get inside to the posted stories. The stories are supposed to be submitted by many different women, but obviously I’ve written all of them. Since these women are all rather liberal, eventually they decide to call themselves ELG’s – Easy Lay Girls. The story here is number 34 in this series. If people like it I’ll go back and reread my earlier entries and pick out a few I still like.
———— 34. A Closeup of My Fanny
Am I an ELG, an Easy Lay Girl? A few months ago I would have said, definitely not. I was a real prude about nudity. I was married, and my husband was the jealous type. I pretty much accepted that as his right. He bought exclusive rights to my vagina with his name on the marriage certificate. Then I discovered he was cheating on me. Then he asked me for a divorce!
For a few weeks I was bitter and rebellious. I equated my Puritan ethics with his desires. Scrap both! As luck would have it a man I knew at work asked me for a date. It was a coincidence because he didn’t even know I was married, nor in the process of breaking up. Harold didn’t care if I was married or not. Probably the only thing he cared about was whether I’d go to bed with him. He apparently had no qualms about fucking married women.
Harold was the kind of man mom had always warned me about. Loose and wild. My mom had loved my husband. When he married me he seemed pretty upstanding. At any other time I wouldn’t have given Harold the time of day. Before marriage I’d always carefully saved myself, a virgin on the marriage bed. Pretty old fashioned. By my values I was now damaged good. Karl, the love of my life, had popped my cherry, made me cook for him for three years, and discarded me when he got tired of fucking my cunt. Maybe it was because I wouldn’t do anal. I was so devastated I hadn’t even started thinking about getting even. No matter how much I got out of him, I could never again offer a prospective husband my unbroken hymen.
What was even more uncharacteristic than accepting a date with a man like Harold was going with him to a strip show. I was pretty sure that seeing other women naked up on a stage would embarrass me almost as much as if I were up there with them. Seeing pictures of women naked on the internet made me feel naked. Their exposure seemed like a threat to all women. Men could look at them and know what I looked like with my clothes off. At least in the generic sense. I probably wasn’t very sexy looking compared to them.
But even thinking about my body naked was embarrassing. My tits are small. I have freckles on my left pussy lip. My nipples have a tendency to swell up at embarrassing times. I didn’t really know what my clit was. It was supposed to swell up when you had an orgasm. But I’d never had an orgasm. Karl never seemed to care whether he gave me one or not. I didn’t want orgasms, I wanted children. He didn’t give me any of those either.
Karl had moved out the day after he told me he was leaving. I hadn’t seen him in two weeks, but had seen his lawyer three times. Now I had my own lawyer who was taking care of things like that. Since I earned a lot more than Karl it was doubtful I’d get any alimony. The main concern was the house. What would I have to pay him to buy him out? My lawyer had advised me to lay off dating for a while. No point in confusing the courts about exactly who here was the injured party. But I could have cared less. I didn’t want money so much as my hymen back. It never occurred to me that the majority of men today would think a woman in her late twenties who was still a virgin was an oddball, too prudish to be interesting. I wonder now what Harold saw in me? Certainly not my real self.
The date was supposed to be for Saturday night. On Tuesday I decided why wait so I invited him over on Friday night for dinner. I guess he liked scheduling two dates in a row. It was sort of off beat. I hardly cared what he thought. I was damaged goods, no better than a whore. If he raped me on top of the dinner table, it wouldn’t matter. I wasn’t a virgin and my husband didn’t want me so I was up for grabs. It didn’t matter much how I felt about it. My body no longer had much value. Eventually men would start fucking me if they cared to. I might as well get used to my new lack of status with this Harold.
Harold was amazingly nice actually. Sure he wanted to get into my pants. Or rather he wanted me out of them. He was willing to sweet talk me while seducing me. I couldn’t remember Karl ever sweet talking me after we were married, and not all that much beforehand. I knew from the minute Harold walked in my door that he was going to fuck me before he left. He warned me he would. But he also guaranteed me I’d love it. So I finished fixing the the supper, served it and ate it with him, all the time telling myself that I wanted what was obviously going to happen. I think by the time I cleared away the dishes I was actually looking forward to it. The problem was, Harold was infernally nice. He would talk nasty about what he was going to do to me in the nicest way immaginable. He made me feel sexy and desirable. At least he seemed to desire me. Perhaps only for the evening, but I couldn’t remember Karl doing the deed like it wasn’t a chore. I cleared the table completely.
“Well” I began, remembering my earlier speculation, “are we going to do it on top of the table?”
Harold took my suggestion as a dare. Next thing I knew he was undressing me. I was giggling so much that I forgot to worry about my small breasts or the freckles in unmentionable places. I knew I had an ugly pussy, but forgot the fact. At one point Harold had me bent backwards, laughing, my legs spread wide, allowing him to do anything he wanted. When his tongue licked my pussy lips, I exploded with mirth. It felt nice. I was amazed that a man would bother doing something like this for a woman. I was amazed Harold would do it for me. It seemed so dirty, sticking a tongue in a woman’s vagina. Yet he seemed willing, even eager to do this for me. He actually seemed determined to make this a pleasure for me.
I couldn’t remember ever getting fucked and smiling while it was happening, let alone laughing. Of course, only one man had ever fucked me, and I was quickly deciding that the man in question was an obnoxious jerk. The only thing I had to thank Karl for was that he’d decided to ditch me before I got too old to interest other men. I’d only wasted three years. It could have been thirty. The thought scared me.
Meanwhile, Harold had gotten me naked completely. The table felt cool to my buns, hard under my head. It also felt delightfully naughty lying spread eagle the way I was in such an inappropiate place. My soon to be lover made a big deal of removing my clothes pretending to be pleased with everything he saw. Maybe he was pleased. I’m probably much prettier than Karl gave me credit for being. I thought getting naked for a man other than Karl would make me uncomfortable. I was lying there naked, my legs spread wide, Harold standing between my thighs looking down at my crotch, right inside my open pussy. I felt wonderful because he was smiling!
For the longest time I hardly noticed that Harold was still dressed. I really didn’t care that much. I knew he was going to fuck me and would probably take his clothes off first. But mostly I was enjoying being looked at by a man who was smiling. Harold mostly undressed without taking his eyes off my face and torso. He liked looking at my tits and my crotch. When he was ready, he pulled me toward him until my hip were almost hanging off the edge of the table, my legs up in the air resting against his shoulders.
I felt the tip of his erection touch my portal. Harold used his hand to rub it back and forth between my pussy lips. I went absolutely wild. Never had I wanted Karl to fuck me the way I suddenly wanted to feel Harold inside me. Then slowly, I got what I wanted. I was no longer a one man woman. I was now a slut. I was no longer Karl’s exclusive property. Maybe Harold didn’t want me for any long term relationship. He’d said as much. But his prick inside me represented liberation from my former evil master. I didn’t need truth, I needed sex to set me free. I could feel freedom inside my vagina, and it felt wonderful.
The table wasn’t all that comfortable, and Harold had no intention of being quick. We started in the dining room but moved, shortly after consumating our new relationship, to the comfort of a bed. I’d read in romantic novels and other places about men carrying their lover into the bedroom or over the threshold. Karl never carried me anywhere, eventhough I’m pretty skinny. A real man could have carried me around easily if he wanted to. Harold carried me into the bedroom. But he did it without removing his penis form my vagina. It was probably very difficult for him. It was certainly very erotic for me. Every step was like getting shafted again.
Only when he bent over to place me on the bed did we seperate. Since it had happened, I quickly scrambled into a position that would make me easily accessible. Spread eagle, of course. Harold flowed up on top of me and back inside my pussy. In a matter of minutes I experienced for the first time ever, an orgasm. So that was what it was all about! My clit was swollen and sticking slightly out of me. I recognized it for what it was. My tickler. My weakness. If a man wanted to seduce me all he had to do was touch it in a nice way. Harold mostly touched it with his erection that time. Earlier he’d used his tongue. Later he’d mostly use his fingers. Much later that evening he’d give me an orgasm using the tip of his nose. I remember laughing right up until the climax, and then afterwards. By the time Harold left me around three in the morning I was a much fucked and very happy woman. I was even looking foward to our original date that evening going to a strip joint.
I woke up around noon, delighted, but wondering if I owned any dress naughty enough to wear to a strip parlor. I decided I didn’t and made a hasty trip to Victoria’s Secret. They don’t really have dresses there, just underwear. But one of the sales girls quietly recommended another store I’d only heard of but didn’t know anything about. It had fancy underwear, and also club dresses. Most of them were more revealing than normal underwear. In most of these concoctions you had to go braless. And generally that left your nipples pretty visible. In many, like the one I bought, you couldn’t wear panties either, unless you wanted them seen. The dress covered my crotch and my anus. But the sides were mostly open. Twenty-four hours before I would have dropped the thing in embarrassment once I could see how little it covered. But now I was a certified slut. I liked it! The girls on stage would be getting most of the attention. But I wouldn’t feel prudish when a man gave me the once over.
The dress made all the difference. I really enjoyed myself. And I think the dress impressed Harold.
In fact, early the next week Harold asked me if I’d pose for a friend of his who did porno photography. In a sort of detached way I heard myself accepting even after I was told that it would involve the appearance of having sex with several male models. At first I supposed that meant getting naked, and letting naked men touch me. I liked the idea. But Harold eventually corrected my misconception. The easiest way to look like you’re having sex with a man is to have sex with the man. In my fey mood, learning this also excited me. When I showed up, without Harold who had another engagement, I was introduced to my soon to be lovers. I loved it!
I managed to stop giggling most of the time when they took the pictures. But I could never stop smiling. To start with they had me strip and sit between the men who were still fully clothed. They touched me in all sorts of ways and I loved every second of it. I have a copy of one picture from this sequence where I had my legs up and I’m smiling having a great time. I’m looking at someone slightly to my left, over the head of a man who’s busy fingering my pussy. The man on my right is holding my leg like a man who knows he’s going to get inside me. But he’s off to the side so the camera has a perfect view of my privates getting fingered. I seem to enjoy, but hardly notice, that I’m getting finger fucked. I seem to be laughing at a joke.
In the other picture I got a copy of, one of the men is fucking my pussy with a respectable erection. You can’t see any part of him other than his penis, which is very clearly about a third of the way inside me. Mostly my asshole is the central focus of the composition, with my stuffed pussy slightly in the background, and my face much further back but still clearly visible. I’m smiling, loving every second of my impailment, yet so comfortable being fucked that I seem almost amused. Perhaps I’m admiring the remaining five inches my lover is about to put inside me.
I’ve heard that some sluts don’t like doing porno as much as private sex because the pace is too slow. The girl being interviewed was actually talking about video, and this session I modelled for was only stills. It was a little slow. There was a lot of holding still while the men moved around so the camera angle was better. But I loved it. Imagine lying on my back, legs wide spread, three men looking at me, two through a camera lens, while the fourth has his delightfully hard erection half way in my pussy. But instead of shafting me the way Harold did the previous weekend, this man is holding still, while the two photographers snap pictures. I was beginning to think my pussy wasn’t really ugly. The situation made me want to laugh.
I imagine they must have taken hundreds of pictures of my crotch with the two digital cameras. Marv told me, since there’s no incremental cost, the simpliest thing is to just take lots of pictures then sort them on the computer. Eventually, after sorting they’d discard most of them. Jason asked me if I wanted a CD copy of the several dozen that would make the cuts. Since I didn’t even have a computer, I just asked if I could have 8 by 10’s of a few good ones. I did look at a lot of the others on their computer. After I’d posed with both men several times having genital intercourse, Marv asked me if I minded doing anal.
“I don’t know. I’ve never done it.”
Karl had asked several times. But back then I was a proper housewife who didn’t do that sort of thing. I didn’t refused because I thought it would hurt. I refused because I was a prude and amazed that my husband would insult me by asking. Various times with Harold I remembered him fingering my anus. Like everything else that night I’d found the sensation delightful.
“I think you’ll have to stretch me open slowly. I’m pretty tight down there right now.”
The men were amused. I guess all women start out tight. If I’d given it any thought before being asked I’d have realized this.
I couldn’t have asked for a more gentle, gradual stretching because they wanted to photograph my ass being prepped. One, two, three fingers, first by Jack, then by Ken, my two lovers. The sequence with Ken was just for doing poses. I was already pretty loose when I posed with only one of his fingers inside me. By that point I knew a penis would be no problem. Neither man was exceptionally large. Their erections were longer, but not much thicker than three fingers. I was actually looking forward to losing my anal cherry.
“Marv, don’t you and Jason want a turn? Makes no difference to me if all four of you want to do it. I’ve never done this with two men before. I think four men would be even more fun.”
“Let’s finish first, then see how you feel. No point in having Ken or Jack take pictures. I don’t think either of them know one end of the camera from the other. They do know female bodies. I suppose Marv could take some of you and me, and I could take some of you and him. But we should still leave that for last. Anyway, we’d have to be careful handling the cameras after touching the lube. Now how about one with Ken’s dick in your ass?”
So with no more said I suddenly, but with no effort or strain, felt a penis slide down inside my fanny for the first time ever. I have no idea what I expected. I guess nothing. For years I’d imagined having sex with a man other than Karl. I could imagine the man’s penis inside my vagina. It was always some place dark and dingy, a cheap motel room. I thought of this as something to be avoided. But I did think about it, especially when Karl’s interest in me started to wane. When Karl wanted anal sex, it was more to make me uncomfortable than to please his pecker. I didn’t take the request seriously. I didn’t even imagine doing it. I simply said no. By hindsight I now know he was fucking two other women at the time and probably had no more interest in my ass than my pussy.
Ken entered me easily. But then he stopped, slid in and out only a few times to make sure I was comfortable, and stopped again. I was facing away from him on all fours, while he knelt between my legs. The doggie style makes a woman feel very submissive. Like everything else that was happening to me, I loved it. For the longest time we stayed like that, Ken only moving his pecker inside me a few inches at a time when told to do so. I had plenty of time to reflect on my new status. But it’s hard to concentrate on anything when you have a penis in your rectum. All I can remember is concluding that it felt good and wondering why I’d been reluctant with Karl. I certainly should have asked Howard to plug my fanny. I would have loved it.
After a bit, Jack and Ken changed places. It felt no different to me. Both men were about seven inches long and a bit less than two in diameter. My ass liked the feel of Jack’s pecker just as much as Ken’s. Later, when I saw the pics on the computer screen it made even less sense. Most of the time they showed my face, my tits and crotch, the man’s erection partly inside me, and hardly anything else of him. You had to look carefully to determine who’s prick was inside me. My two lovers had erections that not only felt identical, they also looked identical. The point of having two men was mostly having them both together with me in a picture. For some reason the idea of a woman getting fucked by two men is very erotic, even if they’re only taking turns. If I’d been blindfolded, I could easily have believed there was only one man there fucking me. At least up to that point.
Not ever having had any previous porno experience, even as a viewer, I’d never heard of DP. Apparently, however, if the girl is working with two guys and feels comfortable doing anal sex, it’s a logical extension. I suppose having both men inside you at the same time makes the stretching tighter. I didn’t much notice this. The man in my anus felt as tight as before, the man in my pussy no tighter than when I was getting pussy fucked earlier. There was this delightfully distracting feeling of their two erections pinching my internal membrane between them. I can’t describe that in words, but it could easily become addictive. That pressure made me feel so femine, so submissive, so loved! Maybe loved is the wrong word. Even lusted for is probably wrong, since the men, while friendly, weren’t going bananas over me. I think that’s what I found most exciting – their calm, gentle use of my body. But that pressure inside me caused by two male shafts was doing delightful things to my insides. My body didn’t care whether these men loved me or not. My wanton delight in straight physical pleasure was the most astounding thing of all.
Some day maybe I’ll get a chance to experience real sexual DP. Not that I didn’t love what was happening to me in front of the camera. Perhaps getting actively shafted in both places by two lovers wouldn’t be any better. My guess, however, is it would be even more fun, but different. But while posing I wasn’t getting shafted. Just like when only one was inside me, the men moved very little, usually in response to requests by the photographers. Getting good pictures with both of their bodies potentially blocking the view made these poses much more difficult than either type of pictures of me with a single lover, vaginal or anal. Marv and Jason were constantly telling the guys to move a leg or pull out of me another inch, or telling me to look at the camera and smile. Looking at the camera was sometimes difficult, but I was always smiling.
When they were done, Marv asked me if I’d stay to do some solos. After getting DP’d just posing naked seemed like no big deal, but still a pleasant idea. I was more than game. By this point I’d have gladly stayed the night with any one of the four men had one asked me. I wanted to stay naked and be looked at and fucked any time someone wanted me. My pussy had discovered the pleasure of exposure.
I sat there naked while my two lovers got dressed and left. Jason put some of the equipment away and left the same time as the other two men. In most situations a girl might get nervous being alone and naked with a strange man. But my worst fear was only that he might simply want the pictures and not have any interest in taking advantage of me. So I asked him.
“I hope you also want to fuck me.”
Marv assured me that he fully intended to relieve his libido, but that he also wanted some pictures of just me, both artsie and raunchy. This session actually went fast because it’s much quicker directing just one model. Marv thinks it takes about four times as long to get a good composition with two people fucking, maybe ten to twenty times longer doing a threesome. At least a DP threesome. The pictures in the beginning of me sitting naked between my two dressed lovers had gone very quickly.
Less than ten minutes later the remaining camera had been put away, Marv had gotten undressed and he was sliding his hard penis in and out of my vagina. Before he was quite done, I asked him to do my fanny for a while. That too felt good. Marv, however, was not Howard. Even with the anal sex, I didn’t orgasm until just before Marv did, this time back again in my pussy. My orgasm triggered his. Howard, the previous weekend, had given me several orgasms without losing his load. At the time I didn’t realize the significance. Just experiencing one orgasm, my first ever, had me pretty much on overload. Now, a week later, I was still hardly jaded. I loved Marv for the one orgasm he gave me. But that one orgasm, nice as it was, wasn’t much compared to the wild pleasure I’d experienced doing the posing and fucking with all four men and the cameras going. Some things are even better than a single orgasm.
The photo session was on a Saturday night almost two weeks ago. In the meantime a friend gave me an old computer that I’m writing this on. She’s also proof reading what I’m writing and now knows that I wasn’t exaggerating when I told her I’d had two wild weekends.
Sally did ask me one question that I hadn’t thought about. Why did Marv and Jason schedule the session for a Saturday night? A regular business would have done it on a weekday. My guess is that all four men were amateurs. Maybe they make a little money selling the pictures. But very likely their main interest is working with the female models. They paid me a hundred dollars, which I actually tried to turn down, especially afterwards after having had such a fantastic time. But a whore would have charged them much more, probably around five hundred. So they not only got the pictures, they also got cheap sex. For the five of us, it was a win-win. I think I loved it so much I should have been paying them.
I wonder what’s happened to me. I’ve become a world class slut. And I used to be a real prude less than a month ago. I guess I’m sort of a “real believer”, a convert that has gone to the other extreme. Suddenly I no longer accept any of my earlier prejudices. Is extramarital sex good? I used to think it was a sin. It will take about a year maybe to make the divorce official, but what I’m doing isn’t extra-marital. I think, however, if I were married I’d cheat whenever I felt like it. Since I used to think it was a sin, I now feel like it must be a good thing. Ditto almost anything about sex – multiple partners, anal, bondage, group, open. There are probably things I still think are bad. But the only things I feel a need to avoid are activities that are dangerous. God save me from AIDs and use the rubber! But for heaven’s sake don’t avoid the need for the rubber!