Dear Abby,

I am a 44 year old woman and I will have been married to my husband for 25 years this coming Thursday. I love my husband dearly, but I have kept a secret (actually two of them) from him for our entire marriage.

[Oh, goody!]

My husband and I dated for about three years and we were due to be married. Although we did make love it wasn't a regular thing. I had waited until he proposed before I gave up my virginity, but he worked out of town a lot and we both still lived with our parents so there wasn't a lot of opportunity. I think that all total that we had made love maybe eight times over a five month period.

[Pathetic. How did you expect to know if you were compatible without months of hard nasty sex? O tempora! O mores!]

The week before the wedding the girls I work with threw a small party for me at a local lounge. They bought me drinks and made me dance with any guy who came to our table. It didn't matter if the guy came to ask Debbie, Carol, Alice or Bev; he got me. I'd had enough drinks to get "loose" and when the guys felt me up I didn't fight off their hands. I didn't care because I knew that none of them were going to get lucky. Not with all of the girls I worked with right there and watching.

[Hypocrite! Cock tease!]

After almost two hours at the lounge Alice said that it was time to give me my surprise

<<They take her to a strip club>>

I looked around the club and saw that almost all the patrons were women although a few of them appeared to have men with them. I was frankly amazed at the way those women were behaving as the men took off their outfits as they danced. Some of them had to be restrained when they tried to get up on the stage with the dancers.

[What do you expect? They were healthy, rutting young females!]

There were cries of "Take it all off and show us what you got," and "Show us the package baby." The girls fed me drinks and made lewd comments such as:

"Look at the lump in his thong. Is your guy hung like that, Baby?" Alice asked. Then she pointed at one of the dancers and said, "Doesn't HE look yummy? Wouldn't you just love to eat him up or vice versa?"

He did look pretty good and for a second or so I let my imagination run wild. I'd had about five drinks since we got there and those on top of what I'd had before we got there so I was feeling no pain. I was getting into the spirit of things and was chanting "Show us the beef stick, show us the beef stick" with the other women when Carol said, "Here he comes."

"Here who comes?"

"Your surprise honey; the reason we brought you here."

She pointed and I saw one of the dancers walk up. He looked like a Greek god and my tummy got all fluttery.

["Fluttery?" Tell the truth! You had your hand in your panties jilling off, didn't you?]

"This is Toby, honey, and Toby is going to give you a lap dance. I know he is yummy and I can tell from the look in your eyes that you want to do something naughty, but the rules are that you can look, but you can't touch."

Toby proceeded to thrust his groin in my face and when he was finished I was weak in the knees. When he got up, if he had wanted to take me right there on the table in front of God and everybody, I would have let him.

[That's the point. Why else did Alice and the girls take you there?]

<<She has sex with Toby in a back room. Want to know more? Stop wanking and go read Bob's story.>>

<<And with all the other dancers at the club>>

<<And three of them go home with her and fuck her all night>>

The unplanned outcome of that night was that I was pregnant when I returned from the honeymoon and I know that the father of my child was one of the dancers. That secret I'll take to my grave.

[Melodrama Queen! Don't tell me you didn't get off on it.]

That night awoke something in me and turned me into slut. I saw Toby three more times before the wedding -- the last time the night before I walked down the aisle.

[I'll bet the stains from the cum you leaked onto the church carpet in front of the altar have never come out.]

I have to confess that Toby wasn't the last of my lovers, just one of many.

[Duh!]

There have been many others over the years, usually men I work with and strangers I meet in hotels and bars when I'm out of town on business trips or my hubby is gone on trips and all without my husband knowing anything about it.

My problem, Abby, is that as I get older my sexual urges are increasing. I'm doing a gangbang on the average of every two weeks and I'm doing co-workers in the supply closet at work almost daily. It is inevitable that if I keep it up, I'm going to get caught.

My question is, "Do you think my husband would understand my need to be a slut if I confessed to him?

Seattle Wife Who Needs It

Dear Seattle Wife Who Needs It, [Don't we all]

I think you will understand why I am replying to your letter on this special website instead of in the family newspapers. The prudes wouldn't publish your sexy letter in my column, either. Still, I recognize a sincere cry for help when I pick one out of the burn bag. Actually I was a secret slut (a secret from my first three husbands) for years.

The answer to your question is, no, your husband will NOT understand, but that's not important; he will LOVE it.

You didn't say, but it is obvious that at home you have been playing the typical wife role to the hilt: feigning total disinterest in sex, giving your husband release maybe once a month (lights out, missionary position, grit your teeth to lie still and keep from orgasming), never wearing (for him) any of the mini-skirts, slinky lingerie, or high-top stockings that he keeps buying you every Valentine's Day, birthday and Anniversary.

I know you did this with the best of intentions. You thought you could fit in with his friends' wives and help his career. That was a mistake. For most of those women, being a frigid wife is not an act; she really does not crave multiple screaming orgasms from a thick male cock pounding deep into their spasming pussies, does not masturbate several times a day even with their fingers, much less a high powered vibrator, and she is genuinely disgusted by her husbands' constant, pathetic whining for sex. She understands all too well that the invitations to "go dancing," to have "romantic" dinners alone, to get away just the two of them on "a little vacation without the kids" are just devious efforts to get her in the mood for sex and, if she isn't careful, to pop another bun in the oven. Holding hands and snuggling are strictly off limits. They know only sluts enjoy sex.