Maria here, and oh my, so much talk about me and my skanky ways in the post below, thanks to my born-to-be-a-cuckold husband!
So, let me tell you how I got to be the way I am. I was raised in a very religious family. I always had to wear long dresses. Sex was something people were only supposed to do to have children, and they weren’t supposed to enjoy it. I felt like an outcast in high school when the other girls talked about fucking their brains out all the time. I got married at the age of 21 to a dull guy who went to the same church as my parents. Boring? For God’s sake, he was an actuary! When I was 28, hubby doodle got the seven year itch and banged some gal at work, so I filed for divorce. My lawyer told me that the man almost always gets the house, so if I wanted our extra piece of real estate – a condo on the north shore of Kauai – I should park my skinny ass there, refuse to budge, let him have the main house, then use the condo to make money. That sounded like good advice, so I did it.
I didn’t know anyone in the islands. The women were all walking around in skimpy clothes, and I was in baggy cargo shorts and an extra large tee shirt. There was a woman across the way from me whose name was Debbie. She was kind of big and fat and loud, and she was a nurse at local Wilcox Hospital. Every time I saw her she was with a different man and I was totally shocked to see her occasionally answer the front door in her underwear. She wanted to be my friend and kept trying to engage me in conversation. But even though her pretty face, with her long blonde hair and gentle blue eyes, told me, deep in my heart, that she was a good person, I stayed away from her and didn’t try to be friendly in return. I knew she was promiscuous, and I had always been taught that that was a bad thing.
One day she told me there was a basket of mangoes on her back porch and I should take some. I had been walking in the forest between the golf course and the condos, and I found myself back at the condos, near the back of Debbie’s house. I went up on the porch and grabbed a few mangoes, and then my semi-virginal eyes were shocked by the sight of a naked man, about fifty but with one of those superb surfer bodies, who was lying on Debbie’s couch. I heard laughter, then Debbie ran into the living room in panties and bra, chased by another guy in his fifties, this one wearing only his boxer shorts. The naked surfer sat up, grabbed Debbie, and pulled her down on top of him. The other guy grabbed her feet and began to tickle her. She screamed with laughter but the one guy wouldn’t let her go and the other guy wouldn’t stop tickling her feet, and it felt really perverted to me, like they were trying to make her wet her panties or something. But Debbie’s laughter was joyful, and though she was kicking her legs which were up in the air, she wasn’t trying to stop them from doing whatever kinky thing they were trying to do and she seemed like she was enjoying it.
I was so shocked that I dropped the mangoes on the wooden porch, which was loud enough for all three of them to hear, and they all turned and looked at me.
I ran away.
For the next couple of days I avoided Debbie, at least during the day, but at night I had powerful, unusual dreams, the first really erotic dreams I had ever had, and I woke up gasping, confused, and very much sexually aroused.
On the third night, I crossed the lawn to Debbie’s house and knocked on her door. She answered in her undies, as usual. She said, “Oh my God, Maria, I am SO sorry you had to watch me being naughty. You must think I’m just about the worst person in the world, and I have to admit that—”
Then I fell into her big bosom and held on to her and hugged her and all I could say was, “I want to be like you.”
Over the next six months, Debbie was my mentor. She taught me how to be a Slut. I quickly realized that that was who I really was. I loved sex, loved men, and my authentic Self was a total Slut. By the time I went back to the mainland (owner of the condo, thanks to my lawyer), I was a completely different woman. I remember giving my phone number to a guy on the plane back home and then meeting him at a bar for a fuck. The woman who went to Kauai wasn’t a real woman. The woman who returned was for real – a real Slut!
So, let me tell you how I got to be the way I am. I was raised in a very religious family. I always had to wear long dresses. Sex was something people were only supposed to do to have children, and they weren’t supposed to enjoy it. I felt like an outcast in high school when the other girls talked about fucking their brains out all the time. I got married at the age of 21 to a dull guy who went to the same church as my parents. Boring? For God’s sake, he was an actuary! When I was 28, hubby doodle got the seven year itch and banged some gal at work, so I filed for divorce. My lawyer told me that the man almost always gets the house, so if I wanted our extra piece of real estate – a condo on the north shore of Kauai – I should park my skinny ass there, refuse to budge, let him have the main house, then use the condo to make money. That sounded like good advice, so I did it.
I didn’t know anyone in the islands. The women were all walking around in skimpy clothes, and I was in baggy cargo shorts and an extra large tee shirt. There was a woman across the way from me whose name was Debbie. She was kind of big and fat and loud, and she was a nurse at local Wilcox Hospital. Every time I saw her she was with a different man and I was totally shocked to see her occasionally answer the front door in her underwear. She wanted to be my friend and kept trying to engage me in conversation. But even though her pretty face, with her long blonde hair and gentle blue eyes, told me, deep in my heart, that she was a good person, I stayed away from her and didn’t try to be friendly in return. I knew she was promiscuous, and I had always been taught that that was a bad thing.
One day she told me there was a basket of mangoes on her back porch and I should take some. I had been walking in the forest between the golf course and the condos, and I found myself back at the condos, near the back of Debbie’s house. I went up on the porch and grabbed a few mangoes, and then my semi-virginal eyes were shocked by the sight of a naked man, about fifty but with one of those superb surfer bodies, who was lying on Debbie’s couch. I heard laughter, then Debbie ran into the living room in panties and bra, chased by another guy in his fifties, this one wearing only his boxer shorts. The naked surfer sat up, grabbed Debbie, and pulled her down on top of him. The other guy grabbed her feet and began to tickle her. She screamed with laughter but the one guy wouldn’t let her go and the other guy wouldn’t stop tickling her feet, and it felt really perverted to me, like they were trying to make her wet her panties or something. But Debbie’s laughter was joyful, and though she was kicking her legs which were up in the air, she wasn’t trying to stop them from doing whatever kinky thing they were trying to do and she seemed like she was enjoying it.
I was so shocked that I dropped the mangoes on the wooden porch, which was loud enough for all three of them to hear, and they all turned and looked at me.
I ran away.
For the next couple of days I avoided Debbie, at least during the day, but at night I had powerful, unusual dreams, the first really erotic dreams I had ever had, and I woke up gasping, confused, and very much sexually aroused.
On the third night, I crossed the lawn to Debbie’s house and knocked on her door. She answered in her undies, as usual. She said, “Oh my God, Maria, I am SO sorry you had to watch me being naughty. You must think I’m just about the worst person in the world, and I have to admit that—”
Then I fell into her big bosom and held on to her and hugged her and all I could say was, “I want to be like you.”
Over the next six months, Debbie was my mentor. She taught me how to be a Slut. I quickly realized that that was who I really was. I loved sex, loved men, and my authentic Self was a total Slut. By the time I went back to the mainland (owner of the condo, thanks to my lawyer), I was a completely different woman. I remember giving my phone number to a guy on the plane back home and then meeting him at a bar for a fuck. The woman who went to Kauai wasn’t a real woman. The woman who returned was for real – a real Slut!
Last edited:
