Death of a Nympho

I hate funerals. I hate the way the dead are dressed in boring church clothes. I hate the way their grayed faces are painted in a failed attempt to resemble their living self. We should be naked! We came into the world naked, right? Why don't we leave that way too? Most of all, I hate the way funeral-goers spew lie after lie about the carcass in the box. Each reinvents his or her history with the deceased. After all, the corpse can no longer refute these tales. That being said, I wouldn't have missed this one for all the tea in Britain?I slowly drift around the casket, focusing on the material aspects. Hmmm, lavender velvet lining. Black walnut. White lilies. Not just a casket spray, but dozens of bouquets of white lilies ? the symbol of the soul's return to innocence. What a fitting flower of death for a slut. Great choice, Steven. He certainly spared no expense. I look up to see who else has wandered into this little party. Mostly it's Steven's business associates. A few neighbors drifted in. They'd support Steven, bringing him food for a bit. Just one more odd funeral custom. Eating was the last thing on my mind when my parents passed away. That was one of many things Steven and I had in common. Before we'd met, he'd recently lost his parents in a car crash. Although in his late twenties, it was still devastating. He felt responsible for his sister and they shared an apartment when I met him. Not for long though. She was an odd one. Heavy energy. Overbearing. The kind of person that sucked the air out of a room when she entered. Oh, she was nice enough when I'd met her, but I heard them argue quite a bit behind closed doors. Then one day, she moved out. To my knowledge, Steven hadn't spoken to her much since. Oh ? speak of the devil, she just walked through the door. Maybe, this is a good thing. She no doubt loves him and he needs support right now. I know, I'm stalling. Why is it so hard to look inside? Supposedly, seeing someone lying in the coffin brings closure. I can only hope that's true. Eventually, curiosity overpowers anxiety, and I peer inside at her. My first thought is Aw fuck, what has he done to her? That God-awful floral dress. Hands neatly folded across her tummy. Hair tightly curled. Pretty pink lipstick ? yuk! And her normally plump breasts, which always pushed the limits of the material, are fully concealed and miraculously flattened like pancakes. I shake my head, half disappointed, half amused, ultimately deciding she looks like he always assumed she lived ? prim and proper. Of course, I know differently ? because I am her.I guess I should explain. I'm dead. That's right ? dead girl talking. I'll give you a moment to let that soak in ? there you go.Believe me, it took me a bit too. Even more so because I didn't die of natural causes. More specifically, I was murdered. Ümraniye Escort And even more specifically, I was choked to death with a sash from hands I never saw. I was always told when you die you'd see the golden gates to Heaven and a beautiful angel would welcome you. Well, it doesn't quite work that way. You see, your soul needs a refresh of sorts. When you die, you experience a replay of your life with objective eyes. Anything you have yet to learn from your life, you learn. You forgive. You understand. Then, you go on ? wherever on may be. I guess I have more work to do because I'm still here ? apparently about to watch my funeral.Steven?He was ? is ? the love of my life. Handsome. Caring. Dependable. Safe. One of the good guys. Moreover, I always came first, in both senses of the word. I was raised by a very strict single father. There was school and church and family time. That was my life. One doesn't miss what one doesn't know, so I was happy. Everything changed in a heartbeat ? literally ? when my father's heart stopped beating one night in his sleep. I was eighteen. Sure, I had other family ? aunts, uncles, cousins ? but I wanted to try living on my own. I waitressed at a local diner to pay my bills. What I saw, and heard, in that diner awakened me to the world. Eavesdropping on others' conversations and lives became my favorite aspect of the job. One day, a handsome, blonde-haired man walked into the diner and pulled up a stool at the counter. He stood out from the regulars, dressed in a dark, tailored suit. We started chatting and he told me he had just started work at a large firm around the corner. Soon after his first visit, his morning visits became lunch visits, then after-work visits, until one night he stayed until I closed up for the night. Always the gentleman, he offered to walk me home to my apartment a few streets over. I invited him inside. And within an hour, I was experiencing my first orgasm with his tongue somewhere I never imagined a man's tongue to be. Moments later, I lost my virginity. I lay still staring at the ceiling, trying to recall what I'd just experienced. No words. No words could describe those new sensations. Now, my only thought was, When can we do it again?Sex with Steven was great in the beginning. And then eventually it wasn't. Nothing had changed and maybe that was the problem. His "usual" no longer got me off.A few well-timed oohs and ahhs mixed with trembling legs were all it took to convince him I'd orgasmed. I resorted to those measures the next few times we fucked, not knowing what else to do. What was wrong with me? Thoughts of sex flooded my brain, yet I couldn't cum with my husband. One night after he had drifted off to sleep, I padded to the bathroom. Determined to solve the issue of my truant Ümraniye Escort Bayan orgasm, I took matters into my own hands ? literally.My clit was numb. I rubbed and rubbed and rubbed and nothing. Tears fell as I plunged three fingers inside my dry pussy. Pistoning them in and out was useless. Still nothing! What was missing? I couldn't cum! That feeling. That glorious feeling had abandoned me. I'd been watching myself in the mirror, desperate to catch a glimmer of arousal on my face. Praying my masturbating fingers would affect me. It was all in vain. Frustrated, I moved my backside against the wall, banging my head against its hard surface. Was I trying to knock something loose inside my head? Maybe. I had become quite desperate. Giving up, I slid my back down the wall and landed with a thump on my ass. Drawing my knees into my chest, I rocked back and forth sobbing. No doubt in my mind, I loved Steven, but it wasn't enough. I realized the man who gave me safety and security couldn't be the man who gave me excitement, risk, and danger. And I decided I needed the latter to cum.Limits are stretched?I turned to porn. Lucky for me, Steven had taken a new job in sales which required travel from Monday until Friday, giving me ample privacy for my new "hobby". "You're the best, baby," he'd said. "So understanding and supportive of my new job!" Yup, that was me. I'd convinced myself he was benefitting too. When he returned on Friday night, I was back to being an authentic cummer, drawing on porn from the week to feed my arousal. Speaking of porn again, it was surprisingly easy to find. Just type "porn" in Mr. Google and Bam!, the screen was filled with people fucking. I browsed a few videos then clicked on a site. Wow! So many categories to choose from. BDSM caught my eye, though, or rather, my clit. Bondage and Discipline. Dominance and Submission. Sadism and Masochism. From the first video, I knew that was for me. I flooded my panties without a single touch to my clit watching the man whip her. I'd never watched anything like that before and it definitely affected me.Sexually charged didn't begin to describe my behavior over the next week. Every moment to myself, I was binging BDSM videos and cumming. No other thoughts occupied my mind. Unfortunately, Steven noticed my distracted behavior and grew worried, started questioning me. Guilt slapped my face. No. I couldn't let my obsession affect him or our marriage. I had to find a way to act out these fantasies, then I could return home, focused on being a dutiful wife. One sex video site I visited posted pop-up ads, with links to click for horny grannies to swingers to everything in between. Turned out, shopping for sex was easier than shopping for shoes. It didn't take many clicks to find what I sought. Escort Ümraniye "Master Jonathan" was his name.I reached out to him via email and to my excitement, he responded. Some part of me doubted he would, questioning the realness of the services he supposedly offered. He turned out to be, however, an authentic practicing Dom and I couldn't wait to meet him. I drove to the address he gave me, surprised to find a home located on a private drive. I guess my imagination had envisioned a dark dungeon or the like. Regardless, this was risky ? meeting a man I'd met through the Internet at his home. But, that risk was part of the thrill for me. To my pleasure, a very handsome man answered the door, dressed in black slacks and a crisp, white shirt, no tie.With a warm smile, he greeted me. "Hello, I'm Master Jonathan. Please come in."He stepped to the side, motioning me to walk past him and enter his home. My heart raced as I strode past him, appreciating his muscular build. Once inside, I stood still, glancing around the room. The housekeeping was meticulous. The furniture and decor were appealing. Immediately, I felt safe. He led me to a door at the end of a hall and paused, turning to face me."I'm here to give you what you need. You can trust me." "Thank you," I whispered, suddenly feeling anxious. After we entered the room, he gave me a moment to adjust. There was a lot to take in with various benches, chairs, sex toys spread around the room. My legs quivered in anticipation. He positioned himself directly in front of me and with a calm, even-toned voice said, "Remove your clothes.""What? I thought we'd?""Remove your clothes. I'm not in the habit of asking twice."He took a step closer, towering over my petite stature, adding to his authoritative presence. Although he spoke using direct, slightly clipped phrases, his tone remained smooth and unwavering. "Okay." I slipped off my heels and he interrupted with, "'Yes, Sir' is how you will answer me."Immediately, I stammered, "Yes ? yes, Sir." His eyes raked over each newly revealed inch of my flesh as I removed my clothes, piece by piece. The slight upturn of his lips eased my nerves somewhat. He likes what he sees. "As we previously discussed, I'm here to push your limits. Your body will be temporarily marked, but as promised, the marks should be gone before your husband returns on Friday night. From our session Monday night until Friday should be adequate time to heal. You have your safe word. Last, but not least, my cock never enters you. That is my hard limit. I don't fuck my clients, only my wife." "I understand. I don't wish to fuck another man besides my husband." "Good. We shall get along fine then."I stood naked with him circling me, dragging his fingertip across my cheekbone, then my shoulder, then down my spine until his finger lingered at the top of my ass crack. I gasped as that same finger slid down and suddenly plunged into my pussy. He withdrew it and brought it to his lips. My breathing had become quite erratic by this point. He stepped away, left me alone, naked and trembling, then returned with an assortment of spanking implements.