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Prologue

Something in me isn't like most females. Figuring out what was different took me thirty-five years but that's life, I guess. Better late than never, as they say.

First, it might help for you to know a little about me. I'm a canine female, thirty-five, married to a great guy, and with a son in college. Yeah, the math is wonky but I got pregnant at 16. Yay, fertility. Marriage waited until I finished high school. My then-new husband went to college while I stayed home to raise our son and work. Those early years were rough but we pulled through. After college, my husband got a job with a company that makes machines used in manufacturing. Then I went to college while he supported me. At his job, my husband put in years of effort and is now an onsite support manager. He makes a very good living so I do freelance work to keep myself occupied and pay for frivolous pursuits. My son and I are well-cared-for and lack for nothing.

Well, almost nothing. My material needs are met as are companionship, family, and long-term stability. However, but for the past several years, I've had a vague emptiness in my life that defied explanation. When I discovered the missing piece, the revelation was like getting struck by lightning out of a clear sky. It's cliché but my life got a hundred percent more interesting almost overnight when_it_ happened.

What is_it_?

Pay attention: I learned that getting degraded and used by a male for sex excites me more than anything! the more used and degraded I get, the more exciting the sex and the better the orgasms I experience. Am I fucked up or what? I don't care if I am.

Slut sex is my aphrodisiac.

Therein lies my dilemma.

My husband isn't into the kind of sex that turns me into a ravenous horny beast. He's by the book and plain vanilla; missionary and doggy style vaginal penetration. Fuck, cum, and sleep. Our coupling is functional and lacks any hint of sexy adventure. That was what I'd grown accustomed to. He was the second male I'd had sex with when we hit the pregnancy jackpot so there was no basis for comparison. Don't get me wrong, I do love my husband and I'll never leave him for anybody. He's hung well--a bit bigger than average but I'd be happy with a smaller dick on him if he'd just use it to satisfy my needs now and then.

Is it any wonder I felt vague dissatisfaction? In all fairness, my unusual sexual tastes didn't manifest until long after we married and settled into a comfortable life. Neither of us knew what lurked within me.

Until my awakening, sex was always something I could either take or leave because experience matters. Laying under a male and having him rut away grew tedious with each passing year. I'd even considered and rejected separation or divorce to shake things up.

I didn't want to end my marriage but that sexual satisfaction itch demands scratching at some point.

I tried to interest my husband in various practices and positions. Those were outside his comfort zone so he was unwilling to try anal sex or, heaven forbid, going down on me until I climaxed. Believe me, I tried to interest him. The most adventurous thing he goes in for is fucking me with the lights on.

This isn't a knock against him. The lack of sexual reciprocity was a sore point in our marriage a few times until I gave up trying. I'd learned while growing up that compromise was the foundation of a good marriage, so I compromised.

What changed, you ask? Well, now, I have lovers who can do for me what my husband can't. My lovers use me for kinky slut sex and it fulfills my needs.

You may think that I shouldn't have sex outside of marriage and hey, that's your opinion. I'm not leaving my husband and I'm not giving up my slutty desires.

So, outside of marriage, lovers leave me fulfilled and sexually satisfied. My husband takes care of the marital relations. Sex with my husband has gone from chore to pleasant respite between vigorous encounters with virile males who treat me like the slut I need to be.

It's a win-win situation.