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

My Story Time:

Story Title: The Old Rag

Okay, bestie, I need to spill the tea on how I went from Mrs. Evelyn Carter, stay-at-home mom of three, to just… the Old Rag. No cap, the name is iconic in the worst way, and the irony is not lost on me. See, I’m 37, but thanks to good genes, I still look 18. My husband, Robert, who’s 52—yeah, he knew me when I was in diapers, a whole other yikes—decided I was “too old” the day he got caught banging Lily, my son Mark’s 18-year-old childhood sweetheart. The girl I used to call my future daughter-in-law. The betrayal was high-key, but the aftermath? Sheesh.

He didn’t even yell. He just waited until I got out of the shower, took my towel, and calmly said, “You’re done wearing clothes, Evelyn. From now on, you’re just the Old Rag. A worn-out thing we keep around for utility.” Then he gathered every stitch I owned and donated it. I was standing there, dripping, completely naked, as our sons—Mark, 19, and Jason, 17—walked in. They didn’t even blink. Mark just looked at Robert and said, “So we can use her now?” My heart shattered. Robert nodded. “She needs to stay pregnant to keep producing milk for the household. Make sure you breed her properly.”

That was it. My agency, my name, my motherhood, gone. My daughters, 15 and 12, started slapping my ass and painfully twisting my nipples to squeeze my breastmilk into their glasses. But the sons… that’s where my mind really broke.

The first time, it was minutes after Robert left the room. Jason pushed me against the wall, his hands around my throat. “You’re not our mom anymore, Old Rag,” he spat, before slapping me hard across the face. I tried to hold in the scream as he shoved his cock into my dry pussy. It hurt, but the worst part was Mark watching with a cold disgust, his own dick hard in his hand. They took turns, choking me, biting my nipples until they bled, and pounding into me until they both came deep inside. They finished by slapping my cum-dripping face and shoving me to the floor.

It became my new normal. Every night, I’d have to beg to sleep in one of their beds for warmth. “Please, let me stay. I’ll… I’ll take care of you,” I’d whisper, already knowing what it meant. They’d fuck me raw until they passed out with their cocks still buried in me. I’d wake up to them already thrusting, or to them suckling my tits for milk in their sleep.

The breaking point was one of Robert’s private parties. While he and Lily made love on the main couch—whispering “I love yous,” him calling her his “beautiful teenager”—I was the party favor. A gang of their friends spit-roasted me, one dick ramming my throat while another ravaged my cunt from behind. They slapped my breasts, choked me until I saw stars, and drank my milk straight from the tap between rounds. I was just a hole, coated in layers of strangers’ cum. And somewhere in that brutal, degrading chaos… I felt it. A sick, overwhelming pleasure. My mind broke. I was addicted.

Now? I’ve embraced it. I even pull cheeky pranks. Last week, I visited Mark at his college campus, fully naked and still leaking Jason’s cum from my pussy. I walked right up to him while he was talking to friends, got on my knees, and took his soft cock into my mouth. He tried to keep his composure, but I sucked him to full hardness right there in public. His friends were shook. Later, in an alley, he slapped me, fucked me brutally against a wall, and came inside me with a grunt. After pulling out, he wiped his messy dick on my face and slapped me again. “Stupid Old Rag,” he muttered.

I just laughed, my own cum and milk smeared on my skin. “That tiny little dick that came out of my womb is all grown up and back where it started, huh?” I teased. He called me a whore and walked away, but I knew he’d be back. They always are.

Robert divorced me, out of “disgust” for fucking other men—the men he ordered me to fuck. The irony is spicy. But he lets me stay. Lily, sweet thing, mouthed “I’m sorry” to me once while Robert was fucking her. She even got him to let me join family movie nights. I sit there naked, my pregnant belly (courtesy of Jason) next to Lily’s (courtesy of Robert), while the boys fondle my tits and brag about how many times they’ve creampied me. I just crack jokes. “What can I say?” I quipped last time. “This Old Rag’s still got the drip… of semen and breastmilk.” Everyone laughed. Even Robert smiled, like we were old friends.

My name on the divorce papers said it all: Evelyn Shaw, 37, alias “The Old Rag.” I’m just the household’s fucktoy and milk cow. And after my mind broke? I wouldn’t have it any other way. I need that rough, abusive cock inside me 24/7. It’s all I think about. Period.