tagGroup SexThis Is Who I Am Now

This Is Who I Am Now


Karen's fork stopped midway to her mouth; her hand frozen momentarily as the words struck her over the din of the restaurant. She quickly scanned the faces of her friends.

"That's disgusting," Mary was saying, and scrunched her face in distaste. "Who would do that? It's gross. I could never."

Not wanting her hesitation to be noticed, she made her hand move, and ate as the conversation spurred her own internal dialogue. She contemplated her situation as she pretended to listen to her childhood friends discussing sex, as they always had. Who is satisfied, who isn't, whose husband wants too much, who does what. Same old story, spoken politely. Who doesn't do this, whose husband wants to do that. That's gross. Remember so-and-so in high school, she was such a slut. I never liked her. How could anyone do that?

Some of these women, all now in their late thirties, were friends since grade school, and all were friends in high school, and they all still got together once or twice a year, picking up the conversation where they'd left it last, as though no time had passed since they met last and nothing had changed. They had all married; some had divorced, but the group remained constant; their views, their opinions, their values.

I wonder, she thought as she listened, what they would think of me and my new friends?

She thought back to the previous evening, with her husband and their friends, Susan and Lyle. She had been sitting against the headboard working a fat dildo into her shaved cunt and a vibrator on her clit as she watched her husband fuck Susan from behind. Lyle, Susan's husband, went from Susan's mouth to Karen's, back and forth. What would her old friends think of her now?

She chuckled to herself, imagining telling them, seeing their shocked and horrified faces. They might be polite to her face, but behind her back they would call each other, and call her the names they used to call the loose girls in high school. She knew that was true, because that's what she would have done; before. Before she had discovered how much fun it was, how good it could be, how much she had been missing.

Oh, sure, back in school, they were all so certain of the rightness of their opinions, and quick to judge and label, herself included. And now, with her new friends and new lifestyle, she WAS the slut she used to look down on. She took another forkful of lasagna, and felt a twinge between her legs, her shaved lips leaking a little. Hell, she'd bet none of them even shaved! Her legs rubbed together, stimulating herself under the table, squeezing her clit, which was hardening as she thought of last night. She remembered taking Lyle in her ass as Greg fucked her pussy. And then Susan had pushed her cunt into her face, and she licked and sucked her to an orgasm while getting double-penetrated by the boys and their hard cocks. Damn, that was good. Then Susan lowered her pussy to Greg's mouth, and Karen had licked her ass while her husband licked her clit.

She looked up, and half the table was staring at her. "What?' she said.

"You made a noise," Tammy said, "a yummy noise. When Virginia was talking about swallowing, and how gross it is."

She saw all the eyes turn to her. "Oh, yeah, that's gross," she agreed. She lifted her fork. "But the lasagna is delicious!" Everyone laughed, and returned to the conversation as Karen remembered taking Bob and Lyle's second loads in her mouth, after Susan had licked the cum from her fucked cunt and ass. Disgusting, she thought. So nasty, and dirty, and oh, my, so hot and sexy! She grinned into her plate. She silently imagined describing the event to her friends from childhood, hearing their girlish squeals and expressing their shocked distaste and disapproval. She tried to imagine one of them taking a big hot load of cum in their mouth, imagining it running down their chin. Taking it from another man, not their husband.

It wasn't the flavor of cum she liked, it was the act of taking it in her mouth, or licking it from Susan's pussy, or from her own fingers. It was just so wanton, so crude and sexual. The feel of the slimy heat, the texture and aftertaste remaining in her mouth, sucking Greg's cock after he fucked her. It was an act of sexual liberation, and she thoroughly enjoyed it; desired it, even. If only they knew.

Would they believe her if she told them? Would they listen with rapt attention as she described the wild things she did now, the things she liked to do, WANTED to do?

She used to be just like them, prissy and proper. She had sex, and she liked it, but only when she was in the mood, or wanted intimacy. And she rarely gave head when she was younger. That's what sluts did. At least that was what they had all told themselves back in the day. Now she sucked cock all the time, and not just her husband's. And what would they think if she told them she's had sex with a woman?

She looked at them in silence as they spoke, on other topics now, kids and family and relatives. They took pretty good care of themselves, for the most part. And for the first time in her life she wondered what they were like in bed. If they had ever kissed another woman, felt that first intimate touch of a woman's soft tongue on their pussy, or had that tight feeling in their chest as they first inhaled the scent of another woman's excitement as they moved their face closer, reaching out their tongue, touching her clit.

That Virginia was pretty sexy, she thought. I wonder if she trims her pubic hair? She smiled to herself. I wonder what she tastes like. And that Tammy; wonderful girl, but so full of herself. I'd like to see her taking Greg's fat cock up her ass, screaming and panting, and begging for more.

She wondered then if any of them had secrets, secrets like hers, that they would never tell the rest of the group out of fear of being judged, fear of embarrassment.

She reached for her wine, and raised her glass, waited for the group to acknowledge her. "To friends," she said. "Don't ever change."

They all sipped, and she laughed at her private joke. How sad that they'll never know what they're missing. She smiled then, allowing herself a fantasy that they ALL held secrets like she did. Maybe Mary was really an anal whore who pulled her cheeks apart for her man's cock. Maybe Lisa was into facials, or deep-throating. And if they had secrets, what were they thinking about her, right now? Would they understand how she had changed, and how great it was? She sipped again, and put her glass down, listening to a story Virginia was telling about her children in school.

This is who I am now. I could never tell them. They wouldn't understand.

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