Penny's Promiscuity Ch. 50: The End?

As an unfaithful wife who had cheated many times with many men until her husband had left her.

A divorced, single mother of an illegitimate child whose father remained unknown.

A woman whose adult children were so disgusted that they no longer wanted to see or talk to her.

A soiled slut whose handsome ex-husband would soon find another, better woman to fill his bed.

I looked around the room and took another long draught of wine. Small sounds began to come from upstairs; Leanne would be awake soon, demanding her late afternoon feed. Of all the many individuals involved in the last year's sorry string of events, she was perhaps the only innocent.

Whatever else I did; however badly I felt about myself; whatever happened in the rest of my life, I must not allow her to become a victim. I must make sure I looked after her to the very best of my ability.

Was Penny's Promiscuity now finally over?

Or did fate have one last trick up her sleeve?

Epilogue

'Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!'

Tony grunted angrily as he slammed his hips into the underside of my buttocks, driving his thick cock as deep into my vagina as its stubby length would allow.

Well after midnight and with too much champagne inside me, by the time the taxi had dropped me off at Tony's apartment, I was desperate to put the difficulties of the day behind me and lose myself in an orgy of sexual degradation.

"Fuck me! Fuck me! Come on, fuck me!"

Tony was really playing his part this time. My own voice sounded half crazed with lust as I lay helplessly beneath him on the over-sized double bed in his bachelor flat.

My body was in what was by far the least dignified but unquestionably the most effective position for crude, deeply penetrative sex that we had found over the last two years. With my legs lifted until my knees were almost on my chest, my calves trapped above his upper arms and with most of his body weight pinning me down, raising my bottom from the floor and presenting my fully-exposed, wide open vulva for his pleasure, I was as weak and vulnerable as any woman in history.

"Yes! Oh God Yes! Oh fucking God! Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't stop!"

Degrading as it was, the position Tony called his Mating Press held me helplessly down on the bed but left his hips free to move as he pleased. And at that particular moment, what pleased him best was to hammer his erect cock into my exposed and defenceless vagina jack-hammer fast, the extreme angle of penetration allowing even his short stubby appendage to batter my already-abused cervix hard.

However pleasing it might be for him, it was even more for me, driving the day's painful memories from my mind as effectively as his cock was driving copious amounts of fluids from my vulva.

The increasingly wet slapping sounds emanating from our conjoined loins and filling the room testified only too clearly!

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

Pinioned, obscenely exposed and completely at the mercy of this man's whim, I was no longer Doctor Penny Barker PhD, the fifty-five-year-old Senior Scientist, four times a mother and twice a Grandmother.

In that position and with my cunt filled to bursting by that ugly, deformed cock, there was no point even thinking I was anything but this man's helpless, completely compliant fuck-toy.

But at that time and in that place, Tony's fuck-toy was quite literally all I wanted to be.

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

"Yes! Oh my God yes! Oh My GoooddddyyyeeeeoooWWWW!"

The orgasm that racked my body was one of the strongest and longest lasting I could remember in a long time.

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

"YesYesYesYesYesYesYesYEEEESSSS!"

The climax seemed to go on forever, depriving me of speech, bodily control, even of breath.

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

Tony was surpassing himself in his fucking; the climactic pressure inside me was almost unbearable. I needed to scream, to breathe, to pee myself.

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

"Gonna Cum! Gonna cum now!" Tony's voice was a mere croak as he fucked me for all he was worth.

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

"Oh! My. Fucking. God. Pennnyyyy!

And with that, the body of the man who had turned my life upside down went into spasm, his face became an ugly grimace and he began to ejaculate once again in my pulsing, climaxing, entirely unprotected vagina.

In the heat of my final orgasm, I could feel and clearly picture my bruised and battered cervix opening and closing with the spasms of my climax, then dilating wide as I came hard, leaving the entrance to my womb wide open to the torrent of semen that Tony must now be spurting directly into it.

In a younger couple this would have surely led to conception, but for two lovers in their mid-fifties, that risk had passed. Tony's vasectomy had long ago ensured there were no sperm in all that ocean of semen, and now the menopause had finally arrived, there were no eggs left in my body to be fertilised by them.

Safe sex. Soundly satisfying. Simple.

Not as young as I once was, it would take a long time to recover from this brutal but deeply satisfying copulation. For a good while I lay on my back on the bed alongside him, both of us panting for breath. My hips ached from having been held for so long in such a humiliating position, my bottom smarted from the brutal assault it had so willingly endured and as for my poor, abused vulva...

I lay there in post-coital haze, feeling the warmth of his body close by as I had so many times before, imagining the slow river of semen flowing through my belly, through my open cervix and deep inside the womb that had produced my four children.

I was certainly not the woman I was before he first fucked me, and as the last few years had shown, I would probably soon not be the woman I was now.

And what was I now precisely?

The world could see I was a divorced mother of four, a grandmother of two and as of that day, a mother-in-law as well.

Though many suspected, only a few knew for sure that I was also an unfaithful, cock-hungry slut who had given birth to a child not her husband's.

Whatever I was, I had ended the day as I had done so many times over the past year; being fucked almost beyond reason by a man whose sole interest in me was my body and had loved every moment of it.

The difference was that this day was supposed to be one of the most important of my life.

***

It had been a beautiful day for a wedding. The sun had shone, the sky bright, the registry office Victorian, old and romantic.

I stood in the front row, my three-year-old daughter Leanne by my side, holding my hand. Her short, white dress contrasted perfectly with the olive-gold colour of her skin as Isobel, her half-sister passed by smiling happily.

There was a great deal about the last few years that I did not want to remember. The accusations, the recriminations, the bad feelings that even now permeated my relationships with my ex-husband and children had been hard to bear, but in most cases, had been justified.

But now, the worst of the divorce was over, and we had established a modus vivendi that was tolerable. Well, nearly tolerable. The kids no longer boycotted the flat I shared with my daughter Leanne, I saw my grandchildren no less frequently than Pete, and we were more than civil whenever we met.

It had crossed my mind that an invitation to our daughter Izzy's wedding should not be taken for granted, but having shared a lover, my daughter and I now shared a deep and very secret bond so she had insisted I took the normal role of mother-of-the-bride, if not throughout the preparation, at least on the day itself.

My maternal instincts soared as my beautiful daughter reached the front of the chamber and stood side by side with the man she was about to marry. I could feel the tears welling already.

In deference to the warm weather, Izzy's dress was short, showing off her long, skinny, athletic legs to impressive effect and, as intended, drawing the eye away from her total lack of breasts.

In deference to the rounded swelling of her pregnant belly, that dress was off-white in colour.

Izzy's dark hair had been carefully styled; both it and her skin glowed with the vitality that pregnancy brought to even the oldest of expectant mothers.

She looked as every Spring bride should look; perfect!

There had been tears all round when Pete walked her down the aisle to meet the man who was about to become her husband.

The man who Izzy had known almost all her life.

The man whose father had seduced first me, then my daughter and who was now my closest friend - with benefits.

His duty performed, Peter joined me on the front row. The little remaining animosity between us put temporarily aside, we exchanged smiles, shrugs and tissues as the ceremony began. As the celebrant's voice rang around the room, I looked surreptitiously at the family and guests assembled around us.

At my son Josh, his wife Samantha and their two small children; already a happy, very traditional family.

At my other son Timothy and his handsome partner Thomas, holding hands as tears ran down my son's cheeks. He and Izzy and had always been as thick as thieves.

I looked surreptitiously across the aisle at Julie, the mother of the groom; the woman who used to be both Tony's wife and my closest friend, but who now lived with my ex-husband in a large house in the countryside. She looked both happy and stunning, her petite, China-doll features and figure enhanced to perfection by the tailored, close-fitting dress she had selected and her carefully positioned hat.

Striking but not scene-stealing, unostentatious but unmissable. No one would dream that so delicate a flower could be such a tiger in bed.

I sighed. Once again, I had come a poor second.

Tony, the father of the groom was conspicuous by his absence.

It was, on the whole a happy day, with plenty to eat and enough to drink to keep the atmosphere light without too many people descending into the maudlin sadness a wedding can so often bring.

I was very much on best behaviour for the whole day.

My marriage to Pete now legally if not emotionally over, both he and I had been free to move on and find other partners should we wish.

With soap opera predictability, Pete's side of our marital bed had barely cooled before he had taken the place he now occupied; alongside Julie in the bed she used to share with her own ex-husband.

Pete had gone straight from our home to hers, where the two of them had spent a full twelve hours in bed, fucking. Clearly his long working hours and overnight stays had not been as medically related as supposed for many months, which explained his exhaustion and sudden lack of interest in fucking me.

Had I been less absorbed in my own sexual affairs on and offline, I might have suspected this, but I hadn't, not even when Tony dropped his own unsubtle hint.

The permanent look of smug, exhausted, sexual satisfaction that three years on still adorned my ex-husband's face was like slap in my own. Even now, picturing his familiar, athletic body hammering into her petite frame could bring powerful feelings of jealousy.

For a long time I could not get them out of my mind, an obsession that contributed greatly to the year of insanity that followed the break-up. Even now, although I know I have to accept it and get on with my life, the green-eyes monster can make me scream into my pillow in the small hours.

The story we had told Izzy about us both having had affairs became public very quickly. This suited us both. Although it didn't show either Pete or me in a good light, it did protect him from the stigma of being a willing cuckold while lifting a little of the shame and blame from my shoulders too.

At first, Pete and Julie's new relationship caused scandal and speculation among all our colleagues and friends. They have been living as a couple for nearly three years now, but there is still no talk about them actually getting married.

Strangely, all of our children seem content with the situation - even Jack.

I remained in our family home with Leanne while the details of the divorce were worked out. Our three kids were very upset, but we made sure not to ask them to take sides. We moved out when it was sold.

What a day that was!

After University, Izzy moved into a flat with Jack. Two years later she became pregnant and as of today, is married. Tim continues to live happily with his boyfriend Thomas and Josh and Sam are carrying on their own baby-focussed lives.

None of them visit either of us often.

Bringing up Leanne as a single mother would have been difficult at any age, but for a woman in her fifties it was a real challenge. To be fair to Pete, he tried hard to fulfil his responsibilities, but with us no longer living in the same house, there was a limit to how great a role he could play.

Although both he and Julie knew that Leanne was not Pete's child, neither of them ever mentioned it to me or, as far as I was aware, to anyone else.

I returned to my work at the hospital on a part time basis, dropping Leanne off at nursery three days each week where to my relief, she was absolutely thriving.

Though a remarkably beautiful child, there was no concealing her mixed-race heritage now. No one with any understanding of genetics could possibly believe her to be Pete's child, ipso facto I must have got pregnant by another man.

No-one mentions this to me either, but I'm sure many of our friends believe it to be the reason for our divorce. One or two of them are definitely keeping their distance.

As far as they are concerned, Penny Barker is now officially a slut!

I can't blame them after all that happened, before and after Pete walked out.

Emotionally bruised and guilt-ridden by my part in the break-up, I had no illusions about finding another long-term, serious relationship. Being in my fifties would not have been an advantage anyway but being a single mother of a small child too made me a very poor prospect indeed.

But something deep within me wanted to show both Pete and Julie that I was still a desirable woman; that what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander, that Julie wasn't the only sexy woman around and above all and that jealousy was a two-edged sword.

The stupidity of this should have been obvious but to a woman as obsessed as I was, nothing ever is.

Undeterred, and encouraged by the circle of divorcee friends I used avoid, but who I had now enthusiastically joined, I threw myself whole-heartedly into online dating.

With Promiscuous Penny now having no-one to cheat on, and few moral barriers left to breach, during my first year as a newly single woman, I went on many more dates and was much more enthusiastic on them than a nice girl should.

But then everyone knew, I was not a nice girl.

It first, it was flattering how much interest these men showed in my skinny, fifty-three-year-old body. And it wasn't just from men my age; the words MILF and even GILF were used more than once.

But it soon became clear that, once they had fucked me all they wanted, the reality of having a small child around the house soon dawned on them and their interest quickly waned.

Sometimes it took a few weeks before I was dumped; other times a single night was enough.

And there were plenty of single nights. Eventually it reached the point where even my divorcee friends warned me that I was gaining a reputation but still I continued to date.

None of them came to anything in terms of relationships, though almost all ended up in bed where my oversized vagina often resulted in a disappointing performance for both me and my lover.

Whether it was a moment of madness or a misguided attempt at competing with Julie I cannot say, but soon, as well as having shared three lovers, I acquired another thing in common with my husband's new partner.

Hidden between my thighs and at the top of my slit was a new, vertical gold bar. It was small, curved upwards and outwards and with a small gold ball at each end, piercing my clitoral hood and intended to partly expose and keep a light but permanent pressure on her sensitive nub at all times.

The pain and embarrassment of having this done had been considerable and I had to abstain from sex for several weeks afterwards, but my God, it has been worth it!

From the very first, this extraordinary accessory could bring minor climaxes from the slightest stimulation. Even the simple rubbing of my knickers against my vulva as I walked could bring me to a shuddering halt. Over time, that extreme degree of sensitivity faded a little but there was no question a permanent improvement had been made.

Though still not in any way guaranteed, I found I could reach orgasm much more frequently and with a much greater range of cock sizes and lovers' skills than ever before.

For a while sex with almost any man had a power and intensity that in the past, only Adam had come close to delivering. If breastfeeding had left me permanently aroused, for many months my new piercing kept me on the cliff edge of climax twenty-four hours a day.

I even considered having my vagina surgically tightened, a procedure not uncommon in the USA but rarely performed in the UK for reasons solely of pleasure.

Sometimes it crossed my mind that, had these things been done during my marriage, the last five years might have been very different. Had our sex life been better, Pete might not have wanted me to sleep with other men, I might not have been so susceptible to Tony's seductive powers and the year or more I had spent as a Hot Wife might never have happened.

But these were pointless thoughts; it had all happened and could not be undone.

With a new and exciting realm of sexual pleasure opening up before me, I threw myself into dating even more intensely and unfortunately, publicly. Before long, the reputation I had been in danger of acquiring became a reality.

Penny Barker was indeed condemned as a slut.

Soon poor Pete was considered well rid of her, and no-one's husband should be allowed within five yards of her unaccompanied. Even my divorcee friends seemed to be avoiding me.

I have no idea how long this madness might have continued but before the damage could become too entrenched, two things happened which together, rescued me before the damage was permanent.

The first was that I acquired a sexually transmitted disease. It's disgusting I know, but clearly one of my dates had not been as scrupulous in his choice of previous lovers or his use of condoms as he should.

The itching began gradually one Monday morning, but by Friday it was beyond ignoring and there was nothing to do but go to the clinic. Both antibiotics and a halt to my sexual activities were prescribed, bringing to madness to a sudden halt.

It could have been just a temporary halt if the second event hadn't occurred, but thank God it did.

I bumped into Tony at the pharmacy.

It's ironic that the man who had started me on the last few years' descent into promiscuity should be the one to rescue me from it, but that's what happened.

Tony asked me to have dinner with him that night. With nothing left to lose, I agreed. That evening, Leanne stayed over at a friend's house, I made a half-hearted attempt at looking my best and joined him in the restaurant.

To my surprise, I enjoyed it from the start. Tony knew most of my darkest secrets when I arrived and, after a second large glass of wine, soon learned the rest - including the reason for my visit to the pharmacy. I had expected a look of horror and revulsion to cross his face and for him to make excuses to leave, but he didn't.

"That's really bad luck," was all he said, and that was with an amused smile. "How long will it take?"