Every Friday night my son would invite a group of his friends from college back to our house to hang out, and I’ve been doing this routine where I would retreat to my bedroom, strip naked, and play with my vibrator all night long, all the while they were in the living room. The idea that at any minute I would be caught thrilled me and on several occasions I had powerful orgasms as I heard footsteps outside my bedroom door.

This Friday evening I became a bit more adventurous. I used to be more cautious while pleasuring myself, but the thrill was getting hold of me.

As usual I was sitting on my bed, my bare ass on my heels, and a vibrating dildo stuck inside my pussy. But this time, I kept the bedroom door slightly open, not fully open, just enough so that anyone who passed by the hallway outside would be able to see through the crack.

I was also more vocal than usual and I even tasted myself a few times while I was playing with my clit with my other hand. I don’t like to brag but my pussy has a sweet smell to it and many of my customers would have paid lots of money to taste my pussy.

Then, just as it had happened the previous Friday, the familiar footsteps could be heard outside of my bedroom, and when it got really close, the footsteps stopped and I knew someone was standing outside and watching me. It got me extremely excited, more excited than I had ever been, in a very long time, at least since my divorce.

I was facing away from the door and I lowered my head against the mattress and lifted my ass up in the air so my pussy was fully exposed in the direction of the door and I pushed my dildo all the way in and didn’t stop until I fucked myself to several orgasms.

My entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat after I was done with myself. I collapsed back on my bed and just rested there for at least several minutes. As I regained my breathe and collected my composure, and then I decided to turn my head back in the direction of the door and before I had fully turned my head, I heard the sudden onset of multiple footsteps rushing away from the door and I was able just to glimpse from the corner of my eye the silhouette of people running away.

💘💘💘

I was looking through my diary entries and I was re-reading what I had written, and I thought, “Geez, I’m such a shameless slut.” And I was like, “But it’s all so hot. Maybe I should share my diary with more people.” And that is why you are reading what I had written here from several months ago. I only edited some of the grammar and misspelling and made the prose slightly more polished.

And since then so much more have transpired between me and my son’s friends; and my mind, my life, and my body are all embroiled in a hot mess, a wonderfully, sexually-charged, beautiful, hot mess. What I had initially started as a sex education campaign for those virile white boys had in the end turned me–their teacher–into a wanton, insatiable, free-use prostitute and embarked me on a sexual adventure that I had did not plan nor anticipate.

I do not have the time to document much of what have happened. What you are reading are but the bits and pieces of my life, chaotic, fragmented, and, in fact, out-of-chronological order. Because my mind is in disorder. I am sorry. I have trouble thinking straight. I’m constantly horny and when I’m not masturbating myself, I’m constantly getting fucked. I do not have time to write down everything and explain everything to you. My life is consumed by sex. It’s especially true after my divorce.

I think I suffer from hypersexuality. I cannot stop thinking about sex. I am not fit to be a mother. I have proven that I had no ability to remain faithful to one man, and I was not able to keep my marriage. Sometimes I actually wish I could be able to live a more structured, disciplined life. Constantly I crave the strong, and firm hand of a dominant man who is not afraid to put me in my place, who will punish me when I misbehave, who will not hesitate to be tough, who will be able to provide me with what I crave. And yet whenever such a man has appeared in my life, I become scared and I run away, yearning for freedom, dreading the slavery, and yet slavery is what drawls me back in. My life is in a constant tug of war between yearning for freedom, and desiring for slavery. My life is a contradiction. I do not know what I want.