My name is Debra; I'm 33 and married to a sweet and kind guy named Robert Angel. Yeah, Angel. When I found that out I couldn't believe it, especially as it described his role in my life perfectly.
I dropped out of college after 2 years of drugs, dick and booze and very little study. I spent the rest of my 20s in a similar stupor, supported by petty theft and leeching off parents and friends, only interested in the next hit or the next guy supposed to have a huge cock.
A couple of years ago my long-suffering parents persuaded me back into rehab for the tenth time. Instead of lasting the usual 3 days before sucking off the dyke janitor in return for a few pills as I'd done the last time, I got through to the end of program. I got through because of a kind man in his 50s who had been struggling with his own alcohol problems since his wife died.
One year later I was still clean and we were talking about marriage. Unfortunately Robert hadn't much interest in sex, or maybe fortunately, as though he was a kind and decent man, he wasn't what you'd call a panty-soaker. My own sex drive was going through the roof as my body got rid of all the crap I had filled it with, and I seemed to spend most of my time gawping at one studly piece of ass after another with my tongue hanging out - making sure that Robert didn't notice, of course.
He'd got me a job as a secretary at the company he owned and it was pretty difficult to keep my hands off the post-boys and maintenance workers who seemed to be buff to a man, and prone to avoid underwear in the summer. One day I was introduced to an intern/ delivery boy named David, aged 19 and a college basketball player. Delivery boys and girls wore shorts and t-shirts, and most of the hotter ones preferred them a couple of sizes too small, probably so they could enjoy the lecherous leering of the older men and women on the permanent staff. The shorts that David wore kept my clit wiggling in my panties all summer, particularly as he used to stop in front of my desk all the time, letting me have a close-up of the outline of his fat teenage dick. He usually had a contemptuous grin on his face so I guessed he knew what he was doing - he probably thought I was just another horny old lady who couldn't keep her eyes above waist level.
I spent a lot of time bruising my granite-hard clit in the employee bathroom that summer.
Once it was clear that Robert had been advised by his lawyers to get a prenup, I had a decision to make. I guess I'd assumed that a rich, comfortable, but sex-free life with Robert would have space for a little action on the side to keep my pussy happy. Robert was a kind man and I thought he would understand....But now I realized that it was celibacy or back to my old, crappy life. If I risked it just for some dick I'd regret it for the rest of my life. And as I cared a lot about Robert, I didn't want to hurt him.
Robert had mentioned during rehab that he had an 18 year old son. I hadn't really thought much about it as I assumed he would be off to college soon. The day we had arranged to meet him I'd been feeling especially horny. I'd gone with an old college friend to a strip-club the night before and we'd spent a few sticky hours ogling the awesome meat on display. Afterwards, I'd been itching to get back to my little apartment to jerk off like a monkey on crystal meth when Judy pulled me over to a table where they were selling videos of the dancers' routines.
