Chapter 1

I am the sort of woman that prefers to stay in the background and I seldom seek male attention unless it is to perform some sort of menial task that I believe is below a proper female’s dignity. That would be like to clear the toilet of some sort of obstruction that was inadvertently left behind with complete lack of intent on the part of the culprit.

Please don’t think me crude for even using such an undignified example for easy understanding of my feelings about such matters.

When I was growing up, my school chums called me “Prissy” because I was so fussy with staying away from germs and didn’t like boys to touch me in places that made the other girls giggle and squeal. Of course as I grew older, I changed my opinion about that entirely.

Now, I am forty years old and I honestly don’t know why I allowed all those good years of having happy carnal relations with other partners to pass without doing much except read “hot” stories and listen to my female friends detail “ad infinitum” their wickedness on vacations and in conducting brief sordid affairs without their husband’s knowledge. I must admit that at those times, I did shamefully press them for full details about the nasty men’s cocks as to size and depth of secret depravity in the dark.

The fact that I accepted my nun-like existence by owning a series of small poodles with talented tongues and used a battery-powered boyfriend to bring me to smashing orgasms seemed tame in comparison to their wild stories of passion in the moonlight or on a sandy beach totally nude and being humped by complete strangers. My married friends with their clueless spouses would brag about taking it all the way up the bum with some randy young lad with a hard dick, but they would never allow their husbands to mount them from behind and stretch their sphincter with their boring same old cocks that didn’t seem quite as hard any longer. In a way, I was glad that I had no spouse to cuckold because I tended to romanticize surrendering my pussy or my bum to any male creature after they had gained full knowledge of my personal private parts. In recent years, I have foresworn my dreadful desire to kiss like a lover, or to even hold or hug a person of the opposite sex because I feel I have no need for romance at this stage of my life.

My latest dog Roscoe was actually a she and not a he, but its tongue was so talented that I didn’t mind the gender distinction in the slightest. I wondered if I had gotten a lesbian dog by mistake but in all honesty, I certainly had no complaints about Roscoe’s tongue licking frenzies because she never failed to bring me right to the edge of the orgasm that I needed so desperately.

There was an article in the town newspaper about a group of village residents that were engaged in meeting clandestinely at night at the old Jacobs farm with the large paved parking lot that had been used for a railway station service lot until the railway shut down. The main line was now on the other side of the expressway in the opposite side of the valley with no stop scheduled at their village.

My daddy had worked for the railway way back when and we had all lived in the apartment above the station. My mum made biscuits and tea for the passengers for a small donation and my sister Monique and I cleaned the waiting room and the bathrooms to save my daddy from paying for some other party to come in and do it on a daily basis. I hated that chore of cleaning the bathrooms because the transient passengers tended to be sloppy with their attitudes and would leave a mess of everything. Of course, that was mostly in the men’s restroom and I had even found items like used condoms and little tubes of lubrication that left my young brain swimming in visions of orgies of the most depraved kind.

Sometimes, in the ladies, Monique and I would find a discarded pair of knickers with lots of creamy spunk partially dried on them. It was easy to visualize the randy lads humping willing female passengers on the sly whilst waiting for the train to arrive. My speculation was that most of them had never seen each other before and probably didn’t want to see their partner again unless they were particularly spectacular in the copulation department. It is easy to see how I became so drawn to the “dogging” lifestyle because that sort of indiscriminate random coupling filled me with such emotional longing that I began to masturbate at a very early age with my favorite companion “Teddy” bear between my shaky knees and my own finger playing a sweet little tune of anal humiliation with imagined male strangers with that certain look of lust that made me pant with sheer delight.

I graduated from university at the age of twenty two and immediately started as a substitute teacher at the village elementary school. My first year was a blur and then the two schools merged and I was sent to teach the older students in their middle teens and it was an entirely different cup of tea for me to say the least.

During most of my twenties, I had a string of boyfriends that basically stopped by the house and gave me a good slap and tickle and sometimes a nice humping in the old fashioned missionary style that seemed to be in vogue for almost two centuries. I was certain the neighbors thought the very worst, but I soldiered on by pretending they were all business associates with a need for a cup of tea and some serious conversation about financial matters. I hated to fib like that but I had to protect my reputation being a respected school teacher in a small village.

After my thirtieth birthday, I made an annual visit to the south of France to a special beach that catered to foreign females bathing “au natural” and allowing local preening males to hump them under the cover of a large beach umbrella. I was certain to wear my contraceptive device at all times on vacation because I didn’t want to be explaining my swollen belly during the course of the school year.

I did have a few proposals of marriage during my early and mid-thirties, but it was mostly from divorced or widowed men with young children looking for a cheap live-in babysitter and a free hump in the nocturnal hours.