What one perceives as acts of independence at satisfying your needs, just might be a call to allow another to control you.
The circumstances, of which there are many, are mostly of my own doing.
Outwardly, I am a bit of a narcissist. Take it for what it is. I have the goods and not afraid to flaunt it. Have since my early teens and now at barely over forty, still physically slay it. Anyone that says that someone over forty should not wear a string bikini on a beach…well, fuck you. My 35 “C” cups, my 25 “ waist, and my 36” hips say otherwise. My body makes people turn their heads, towards me, not away…males from sixteen to sixty respond. Do not care what you think…so…well, fuck you.
Unfortunately, or should I say fortunately, my narcissism and my physical attributes allowed for the former to be fed by a ***********ion based on a moments desire. Those moments of desire have been have been numerous through out my almost twenty year marriage. Another words, I fucked around. There was somewhat of a hiatus when my children were born, and did try to use a little discretion while they were in their formidable years. But some of that faded during their teenage years.
That is where the circumstance started to pile up. Five or so years ago, my husband found out about one of my indiscretions. Almost lost my meal ticket. Believe when he looked around, he still looked at me as being steak compared to the hamburger available on the market. Whatever…told him I would not embarrass him again…What he did not know was that I found another medium to help satisfy my narcissism…personal blog porno web sites that allowed me to post selfies, while getting accolades as to my physical proclivities. The other caveat of me indulging for my own selfish wants, is that those sites opened my awareness to possible deviant sexuality that turned me on. Started to fascinate about all kinds of taboo, such as group sex, getting gang banged, incestuous stuff, and other topics.
Again…don’t judge, if you do, fuck you!
All this incentivized , or should I say desensitized me. It was not long before the call of the wild overwhelmed my fear of the threat of losing my marriage. I was on the prowl and my indiscretions came back. With an additional caveat, I enjoyed having a camera (sometimes just the one on a phone if it was totally unplanned) record the events for my future posterity. Not only did this indulge me as a tool of self-stimulation through visual memory, but my voyeur instincts by posting some of my escapades on line. Granted, I usually edited them enough so the casual viewer would have a hard time making a connection.