43 M Dad.

now im on the internet being a brainelss bimbo anddd 4 all these nice men whille they use me as porn and abuse me

"My dad was mean, so now I'm a whore."

"My dad touched me, so now I'm a whore."

Be responsible. Use every part of the slut.

There’s something I’ve carried for 26 years that I need to write down. Just once. To finally admit what a filthy little slut I was that night at church youth camp when I was fourteen.

It was the final night of camp, out in the woods by the lake. Lights-out had passed hours ago, but a few of us slipped away. Me, my best friend Rachel, and two boys—Tyler and Josh. Both of whom were the golden boys of the youth group: tall, athletic, always quoting scripture. The kind of guys parents trusted with their daughters. We were all supposed to be pure, wearing our little silver purity rings like badges of honor.

We stole a blanket and a bottle of whiskey one of the older counselors had hidden. We sat in a hidden clearing, laughing and drinking until the alcohol loosened everything. (And I mean everything) Rachel dared me to kiss Tyler. I pretended to be shy, but my pussy was already throbbing. I climbed into his lap and his mouth was on mine instantly—hungry, demanding. His hands slid under my modest camp shirt and squeezed my bare tits, pinching my nipples until I whimpered.

Before I knew it, Rachel was on her knees blowing Josh right next to us, slurping loudly like she’d done it a hundred times. Tyler shoved his hand up my skirt, pushed my soaked panties aside, and plunged two thick fingers straight into my virgin pussy. I was dripping. I came almost immediately, grinding on his hand and biting his neck so I wouldn’t scream.

That was only the beginning.

Rachel whispered, “Let’s swap,” with this wicked little smile. Josh pulled me onto all fours. I felt his big, bare cock rubbing up and down my slit, then he pushed inside me in one long thrust. The stretch burned so good. He fucked me hard, gripping my hips, slapping against my ass while Tyler face-fucked Rachel inches away from my face. I could hear every wet gag and moan.

They used us like cheap camp sluts. Josh pulled out and they switched. Tyler took my pussy next, pounding me deep while I sucked Josh’s cock—still slick with Rachel’s spit and my own juices. I loved the taste. I sucked him like a desperate whore, swirling my tongue around the head while Tyler railed me from behind.

Then came the filthiest part. Rachel begged Josh to fuck her ass. While he did, Tyler had me ride him reverse cowgirl so I could watch my best friend get her tight little asshole stretched and used. The sounds they made—her moaning, his balls slapping against her—pushed me over the edge again. I came so hard on Tyler’s cock that I nearly blacked out.

They kept swapping between us. Pussy to mouth, mouth to pussy. At one point both boys had us side by side on our backs, legs spread wide like offering plates. They’d fuck one of us for a minute or two, then switch. I lost count of how many times I came. By the end I was a messy, cum-covered disaster—Tyler’s load dripping out of my pussy, Josh’s cum on my tits and in my mouth, dirt and grass stuck to my sweaty skin.

We snuck back to the cabins just before sunrise, cum still leaking down my thighs. The next morning I sat through the final purity talk with a sore, well-fucked pussy, smiling sweetly while the pastor preached about saving ourselves for marriage. I still had Josh’s dried cum on my stomach under my shirt.

I’ve never told a soul. Not my husband, not my pastor, not even Rachel after that summer. But I touch myself to this memory constantly. In the shower, in my car, late at night when my husband is asleep. I rub my clit remembering how I let those two church boys use every hole like a filthy whore while my best friend did the same right beside me.

I’m a good woman now. (Mostly) But sometimes I miss being that shameless, dripping, cock-hungry fourteen-year-old girl in the woods.

God forgive me… but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

On the bus hike up your skirt and give your neighbor a view of your bare cunt. If he follows you off the bus, screw him in a cafe bathroom. Tell him a gentleman would buy you a coffee to go with his cream. Never carry money. You don't want to be mistaken for a whore. You can rely on the kindness of your betters.

When you get into work, apologize to your boss by emptying his balls. After work, go drinking with your coworkers, so they can pour drinks down your throat and lead you to another restroom. Then, if none of them want you warming a bed, get back on the bus (skirt up!) and go home to rub until you pass out.

I did a really good job. I went to rehab. Therapy. Spiritual retreats. You name it, I did it to get better.

The whole time I felt like I was just masking. I was a facade in denial of my true self. I couldn't blog about it because it was sneaking into my every day life. I could have gone to prison.

I'm happy to say I'm fully relapsed and filthier and more perverse than ever.