You are late leaving work and you’re rushing to get home as you are supposed to meet Daddy there at 6 on the dot. You feel frazzled as you’re running late as your boss stopped you on the way out to ask a few questions that could have easily waited until tomorrow; you need to stop and pick up your dry cleaning, you need to stop at the store and pick up a few odds and ends, you need to get gas in the car, running around so you can get home to Daddy.

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Flurries flew through the air as Alice and Brian drove through the Michigan countryside. The young moon gave some light to the snow-covered landscape around them, but it was slowly sliding towards the horizon. Brian kept both hands on the wheel as Alice gently massaged his thigh with her left hand.

“Are you nervous, honey?” Alice asked.

“My stomach’s doing back-flips,” Brian replied. “I’ve never done anything like this in my life. I was a good Baptist growing up.”

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How did it happen? I’m not really sure.

I’d been happily married for nearly 27 years. I met my husband when I was 16 and he was 19.

I’m not saying that I’d never looked at other men; after all I’m only flesh and blood. But I’d never had the urge to do anything about it. The idea of being found out was enough to scare the hell out of me. Besides, who on earth would be interested in me? That said; there were a couple of occasions in the past when the opportunity may have arisen. But I turned my back on those openings.

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I had a dream about you last night. I dreamed that I was coming home for leave from Korea, and for some reason my car was waiting at the airport, and I was driving myself home. I got home, and you were nowhere to be found. I called and could not get a hold of you, so I started working on the bike while I waited for you to get to the house. I changed the oil on the bike, reconnected the battery, and took it down off of the lift, firing it up to make sure that it ran. Finished, I shut it off and went into the house. As I walked past the mirrors in the living room, I realized that I was a little dirty from working on the bike. I poured a cup of coffee and took a break, wandering the house. You had rearranged while I was gone, and hung up pictures we hadn’t gotten to unpacking.

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I am Tamina and in my 30s. I have an Asian background and I have a very bad secret. Let me take you back many years to when I was an 18 year old schoolgirl studying for my A levels before I went off to university. My strict Asian parents insisted that during the school holidays when they were at work I had to stay with neighbours. They wanted to know where I was going to be during the day. I was not allowed to go out with friends.

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Many years ago my first wife left me for a married man. A flying officer, from a nearby air base. I was to say the least devastated, and suffered as many people do. About nine months later, I received a letter from the man’s wife, Jill, as a result of this I rang her. We had both been deeply hurt. We had suffered a lot in common. This led to a number of calls. During one of them the subject of frustration came up. I was both surprised and excited when Jill said that she suffered most in bed at night, more and more, she was having to resort to masturbation. Which concerned her because she tended to make a noise when she climaxed, and was afraid she of waking her young children.

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I was into wild sex in my early twenties, bondage mostly, I loved
being submissive and being on display. I got DD breast implants and
nipple rings big enough to tie a rope too. But I decided to settle
down, married an accountant, and had a son. On the outside I like a
conservative housewife with glasses and ironed blouses, but underneath
I keep my pussy shaved (it drives my husband wild), don’t wear
underwear (same effect on my husband) and don’t wear a bra (my
implants don’t need them). Plus I kept my nipple rings.

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