If you are here for Fantasy, then my life story is just that. I am making it all up, I hope it turns you on.
If you are here for Real Confessions, then you have found your dream girl, because I am real, and I haven't got the imagination, education or intelligence to write stories.
As I have said elsewhere I was a groupie for half of my life. It started nice. Being seen with minor celebrities, occasionally a major one. Making love in dressing rooms or cars. It was all wonderful. I found a boyfriend who approved and enjoyed me "confessing" my sins while we made love, and we married. Firstly on the understanding that I would then give up my lifestyle, but soon we both realised that we had suddenly become boring, bored, and normal life was depressing. Actually it only took me a few days on returning from honeymoon to transgress in a big way, but my (ex) husband doesn't know about that.
So, we went to an entertainment venue one night - just to see what had changed, and I found myself in a cupboard with a "celeb" I used to know and his friend. We were disturbed, but I confessed all to hubby when we got home and it was the best night of sex ever. The following night we went to a different venue where I knew one of those guys would be, and I was back to being a "dirty groupie". Some people call us "Rats".
Over the years things carried on, the whole scene became more and more sordid, and the need for progression made it all acceptable. Instead of "nice lovemaking" I thrived on humiliation, embarrassment, exhibitionism, danger, even pain. Instead of a sexual turn on, it became more of a mental craving. The need for things I wouldn't enjoy. The overwhelming mind-fucking apprehension building and building, and then the warm, glowing, peaceful sense of achievement when it was over, having orgasmed on whatever sordid activity had taken place. It was like the whole groupie thing had moved on. Celebrities had become deviants. Or maybe I had lowered my standards. I had always avoided pop groups and footballers because they weren't nice, and now no-one was nice. My confessions to hubby had become taunts. Maybe cuckolding him because that's what my lovers told me to do.
Eventually it became more abuse than pleasure, and after a few failed attempts I gave it in. Except for a few who continued to chase me and visited me at home, now behind my husbands back most of the time. I was still being used, it still wasn't nice, and worse still it was when they wanted rather than when I went hunting.
But now I am saved from all that. My husband has left, mainly thanks to my interfering neighbours. I had no friends, had no way of supporting myself (I never had to work as hubby had a good job), my ex wanted his half of the house, and things were looking bad. I also had cravings. Humiliation mainly. I needed it, and I found it very unexpectedly. My interfering neighbours, it turned out, were big on the swingers scene many years ago. They ran a club, understood all fetishes, cravings etc, and they (mainly the wife) decided to take me in hand along with two couples across the road and several other acquaintances. I am virtually a naked slave to them when they want me to be. It is all such a ridiculous story that it has to be fantasy, because no one does, or would believe how it is all happening. Total fantasy, not even worthy of one of Literoticas "abducted by aliens" stories. So why do I have red marks on my bottom, why are my nipples so sore; and the spunk in my hair seem strange. I seriously have mental health problems.
