Sometimes I will feel a compulsion to be used by a man for illicit anonymous sex. I am married and have a son. My husband loves me but my life with him gets so oppressively boring that I can't breath. We both acknowledge that we married too young and probably should have had more experiences but our son came right away and so there was no way out - we were barely out of college and entangled for life. I wanted to leave. In fact I was about to leave 2 years ago when a horrific car crash left my husband's body completely broken and with years of rehabilitation ahead of him. Suddenly I had to become the breadwinner for our family. I couldn't leave after that. I became angry and resentful. I had to become nurse maid to him and do most of the parenting of our son. I had struggled most of my adult life with mental illness: bipolar disorder, well controlled with medication. But after the accident and under the new pressures of my life something just began to snap in me. My world suddenly became a colorless featureless prison with nothing good ahead but the grave and peace. One night during a thunderstorm and in a manic state I began reading and rereading a poem by one of my favorite poets that seemed to be instructing me to hurt my son and his father, burn down my house and walk out onto the highway by our house and let a truck run over me. I was in such a state that it frightened my son who ran out into the rain and got a neighbor who managed to calm me down and get me to a nearby medical center. After some days my doctor decided to put me on a new medication and have me released. I was better almost immediately but something weird was happening to me. In the time after the accident having sex was impossible for us. I never even thought about it anymore. But weeks after being put on the new medication I found that I could rarely think of anything else. A sudden warmth returned. I couldn't cross my legs without feeling a pleasant twinge down there. I started masturbating every night after work in the shower before bed. When my husbands physical therapist came on Wednesday nights. I used to watch his taut sinewy arms lift my husbands tortured legs and work them out to bring back their flexibility. That night in the shower as the warm rivulets of water ran down my soap slick shoulders and back. I grabbed a handful of soapy water and slathered it up the beautiful mound of my smooth shaved vulva. My tingling breasts swayed and flopped as I soaped them. As I gently, slowly fingered my clit I thought of those same sinewy arms lifting my legs but for a totally different purpose. He was lifting them to spread them and put my bum in position for his big mushroom shaped cock head to gain entry into my eager waiting hole. He pushed at the top rubbing and probing. Might tight flesh under his importunate attentions suddenly yielded and became slowly more and more compliant. He went deeper and deeper until I felt the sodden slapping of his balls against my ass. He rutted and grinded in me as I writhed on my back completely open too him - my legs spread like a birds wings- being taken and used like a piece of meat by this stranger. Yes! I was just meat and he was a cleaver!
And he dealt with me as a cleaver deals with meat. As my hands moved over his back I felt my orgasm coming and tried to hold off by scooting my haunches back and away. But he grabbed my hips and ass with his powerful hands and held me fast pulling me up towards his relentless pounding. He overcame me like an ocean wave and the gush started. I came over and over. I was startled out of my fantasy when the shower water suddenly turned cold