My Steamy Story: Sex with: Multiple men and one woman ...

My Story Time:

Okay, bestie, so you wanna hear how I went from Mrs. Oliver Thorne to… well, what everyone calls me now? The Yesteryear. Yeah, period. No cap, it’s iconic and tragic AF. I was 18, baby-faced, marrying my 38-year-old childhood friend, Oliver. We were that couple, fucking like rabbits, best friends, had three sons and a toddler I was still breastfeeding. I even low-key shipped our son, Liam, with our neighbor’s daughter, Chloe. I’d be like, ‘Chloe, hurry up and snatch my future son-in-law before some other girl does!’ She’d blush, he’d look away… the vibes were immaculate.

Then I caught them. Not Liam and Chloe. Oliver and Chloe. My 47-year-old husband and the 18-year-old girl. I confronted him in our bedroom, still damp from my shower, totally naked. He just… looked at me with this cold smirk. ‘You’re 37, Yesteryear,’ he said, like it was a fact. ‘Too old. Chronologically.’ Then he walked to my wardrobe, grabbed every single stitch, and tossed it all into a bonfire in the backyard. My designer dresses, my lingerie, even the simple high-heeled sandals I’d just kicked off. Poof. Gone. ‘From now on,’ he said, not even angry, just… matter-of-fact, ‘this is all you are. A body. For the household.’

The household. Sheesh. He moved Chloe into our bed that night. I had to beg our oldest, Liam, to let me sleep in his room. ‘Please,’ I whispered, shivering. ‘I just need the warmth.’ He looked at me, at my naked body, with pure disgust. ‘Fine,’ he grunted. ‘But you earn it.’ He didn’t mean chores. He shoved me onto his bed, slapped my face so hard my vision blurred—oof—and fucked me. Rough. No lube, just hate. He choked me while he rammed his cock into my pussy, biting my nipples until I cried out, the sweet milk leaking onto his sheets. He came inside me with a grunt, then slapped my ass. ‘Cock warmer,’ he said, pushing me down and falling asleep with his dick still buried in me. That was my new bedtime routine.

It got worse. Oliver started hosting these boujee private parties. Chloe was the main event, treated like a princess, passed gently between Oliver and his friends. I was the side piece. The free-use Yesteryear. Men I didn’t know would line up. One would shove his cock down my throat until I gagged, another would pound my pussy from behind, a third would twist my nipples and drink my milk straight from the tap. They’d all cum inside me, one after another, filling me up until it was dripping down my thighs. They’d slap my face, my tits, my ass—smack—telling me to moan louder. And after a while… I did. I couldn’t help it. The pleasure just… took over. My mind… broke. I got addicted. To the slaps, the choking, the feeling of being utterly used.

Now? I embrace it. I’ll see Liam studying and just drop to my knees, take his cock in my mouth mid-sentence. He’ll try to stay composed, but then he’ll snap—slap!—drag me to a closet, and fuck me senseless. After he cums inside me, he rubs his dick all over my face to mark me, then slaps me again. ‘That’s for humiliating me, Yesteryear,’ he’ll spit.

The irony? Oliver divorced me for ‘being a slut who sleeps with our sons and any man who wants her.’ The man who made me this. Big yikes. But guess what? New Girl—sweet, kind Chloe—convinced him to be… civil. We have movie nights now. I sit there fully naked, my pregnant belly round (courtesy of Liam and his brothers), while Chloe, also pregnant with Oliver’s baby, sits cuddled with him. The men still grope me, drink my milk, slap my ass and say, ‘Make me a sandwich, Yesteryear.’ And I just laugh. I make jokes! I’ll be leaking cum from my well-used pussy and go, ‘Well, at least with a name like Yesteryear, I’m classic, not classic d’ouchebag.’ Even Oliver chuckled at that one. So yeah, that’s my tea. I’m a milk-dispensing, cum-filled, happily broken Yesteryear. Now, who’s next? I need another cock in me… mmmh, yes, just like that… fill me up