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

My Story Time:

Alright, let’s spill the tea. So, picture this: I’m Natalie, 37, but no cap, I look 18. My husband, Charles, is 58, and let’s just say our age-gap romance was iconic until it wasn’t. I caught him with Lily, our son Oliver’s childhood crush—she’s 18 and still in high school, btw. The confrontation was a whole mess. He waited until I was fresh out of the shower, totally naked, and was like, “You’re too old, Natalie. Chronologically, you’re used up.” Then he gathered every stitch of my clothing, even the towel, and torched it all in the backyard. From that moment, I became “The Relic”—that’s my degrading title now. Even my kids don’t call me mom.

The fallout was immediate. My sons, Oliver and Ethan, watched the whole thing. Minutes after the flames died, Oliver, high-key seething, slapped me across the face. “On your knees, Relic,” he growled. I was still in shock, but that slap… it sparked something. He forced his dick into my mouth, fucking my throat rough while Ethan watched, unbuckling his belt. I gagged, gasping for air, tears streaming. “Swallow it, you old slut,” Oliver grunted, before pulling out and shoving me onto the floor. Ethan was already hard; he flipped me over and drove his cock into my pussy bareback, no lube, just my shock and his anger. He pounded into me, his hands around my throat, while Oliver stood over us, slapping my face every time I tried to stifle a moan. “Louder, Relic,” he’d sneer. I came against my will, my body betraying me with a shuddering climax just as Ethan grunted and flooded my cunt with his cum. He pulled out, slapped my ass raw, and rubbed his slick cock over my face, smearing his brother’s spit and his own spend all over my cheeks. “That’s so you remember your place.”

That was just the beginning. Now, I’m always naked, my skin perpetually coated in drying cum—it’s my only “clothing.” Charles hosts private parties where I’m the free-use side piece. Last night, it was a spit-roast with three of his business associates. One dick ramming my throat, another pounding my pussy from behind, the third slapping my tits and pinching my nipples until my breast milk leaked out for them to drink. “Refreshments,” one chuckled, biting my nipple as he sucked. I’m just a vessel—for cock, for cum, for milk. Charles watches it all while fucking Lily on the couch, whispering how much he loves his “sweet teenager.” The irony isn’t lost on me; he divorced me for being a slut he created.

But here’s the plot twist, besties: my mind broke. I’m addicted. The slaps, the choking, the feeling of being completely filled—it’s all I think about. I even pull cheeky pranks now. Yesterday, I visited Oliver at his college campus, fully naked and still dripping from a “business negotiation” for Charles. He was giving a speech to his frat. I got on the podium, under the table, and took his soft cock into my mouth right as he was talking about campus ethics. The look on his face? Priceless. He tried to keep his composure, but I sucked him to full hardness in front of everyone. He finished his speech, voice strained, then dragged me to a janitor’s closet. SLAP. “You embarrassing bitch,” he hissed before shoving me against the wall and fucking my pussy raw, his hands around my throat. I came screaming, and he came inside me, breeding me deep. After, he wiped his cock on my face and slapped me again. “My property,” he spat. And honestly? I’m his. I’m The Relic, and this is my life. Period.