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This story stands on its own, but also fits into a larger story that Started with Cyn for Short and helps to explain how Cynthia, through decent into sexual addiction came to the point where she was suicidal but eventually found the power within to make a commitment to fidelity that served her and her family well for 18 years. There were seven parts of the original story posted on one site, and nine on another, the only difference was that in the site posting seven, all three of the first chapters were consolidated into a single posting.

The postings began in early February, so as this date I have seen many responses. A number of observations appear for public view on one of the sites so many of you may have seen some of them also. The majority of responses that end up in my e-mail have been very supportive of my efforts and of the characters in the story, but I am surprised at how negative and judgmental some of the comments have been. I welcome all response and advice equally, positive or critical, but I’ve even been told that a suitable end for both characters would involve a life sentence in sexual slavery, contraction of AIDS, or savage brutality and loss of life with high powered handguns or rifles, in one case administered at the hand of a vengeful oldest son.

It hurts me to think some people hold onto and embrace such pain and emotion in their own lives that they can justify such violence. I received a response from one good man whose life was turned upside down by a wife that did some of the same things Cyn did, but apparently without any regret at all. That relationship ended in divorce and the husband got custody of the kids. Ttwo daughters that are now in college passed the story of Cyn in progress on to him and he wrote to tell me hoped Cyn would loose Craig and custody of their children as well.

For his sake I’m sorry the ending didn’t give him the pound of flesh he may have hoped for, but the point is, that this man who really had grounds for bitterness was still much less violent than some of the others. The same gentleman went on to explain how his ex wife now had aids and had come back to ask for his forgiveness. I can understand why he refused to reconcile in any way, but I’m more concerned about how his justified response to her leaves him with only the shallow victory of revenge. The loss still affects him far more than it does her.

I personally know of a woman who thought she had a great marriage with a loving husband and several children until her husband informed her he was gay, and left them all behind. No one could have felt more legitimate pain and scarring in a life than her or the man above, so when her husband came back several years later and told her he was dying of aids, and begged her for forgiveness, she would have been just as well justified to tell him to go straight to hell also. Instead, she took him back into her home and cared for him until he died.

That act of greatness on her part was an expression of faith in humanity and her ability to see a sliver of potential in the man she chose to be the father of her children. Out of respect for the love she had honestly felt at one time, even if she no longer felt it, she cared for him as unselfishly as I believe a person could. This woman has expressed some of the most beautiful and inspiring thoughts in poetry to inspire the best in humanity I have ever read, and she knew she could not turn her back on the man who had hurt her so terribly without turning her back on all the beautiful and inspiring things she had ever thought or put to verse.

The ones who were best affected by her unselfish act of charity were herself, and the ones she loved most, her own children. They are the ones who receive the balm of healing, not her unfortunate husband, he died. But I’ll tell you this as well; she never once regretted her decision and never once condemned him for his. When Jesus said let him who is without sin cast the first stone, he didn’t qualify it by saying him who has the fewest sins, or the smallest. I believe the most important fundamental attitude in the human family is to always open your heart to possibility and refuse to close it on account of anything.

I believe we are at our weakest and worst frame of mind when we allow emotion to dictate revenge and violence on anyone for any reason. And we are at our strongest and best when we learn to stand above and beyond the range of emotional reaction to the things that happen around us. I think we as a people were at our strongest after 9/11 not by our resolve to use violence, but by our resolve to stand firmly against it.

For those of you who didn’t like the slutty side of Cyn, you’ll hate the two parts of this story, because they show how she descended into a suicidal state as a result of the selfishness in her sexual addiction that led her into bondage, before she ever married Craig. How else could she have ever come face to face with the specter of nothing, and made the resolve to be faithful to him for so long. For those of you who are already chomping at bonus veren siteler the bit to put a bullet through her head, just assume she took her own life and let it alone; give yourself a break.

Through all of this, and in all there is to come, I think there is always potential for greatness in Cyn just like there is in everyone, including all of the people I have had the pleasure to meet in this life. I love her for where she’s been and who she can be in spite of it and I love Craig for his courage to look for the best in everyone he can.

LOOSING CYNTHIA Part 1 of 2

From the time I was a little girl, my parents had told me that one day I would meet my handsome prince and begin a fairy tale life of happy ever after. I was told that in order to deserve a prince, I would have to be the very best princess possible. Even before I entered my teens, modesty was stressed in clothing and thought. As a six year old, I wouldn’t dream of playing in the backyard in the little plastic pool without a shirt on. I even scolded neighbor men who didn’t wear one while they mowed their lawn on hot summer days.

The first information I had concerning sex warned that it was very serious and a terrible thing for anyone to consider before marriage. I had a distinct impression that whenever I was introduced to it after marriage, somehow all the bad things associated with it would magically go away so it could be tolerated, and I would start to have babies. I remember my mother warning me that kissing boys was very dangerous, that if I let a boy kiss me, then I would become pregnant and bring disgrace to the whole family.

By the time I was involved in a sex education discussions in school, I was learning along with my friends that reality was somewhere between my parent’s ideas and the exaggerated misinformation in the school yard. One constant seemed to carry through however; for a girl, sex was an uncomfortable social interaction that could be painful and traumatic at the very least. It certainly wasn’t something I was taught to look forward to and I never thought there would be any pleasure associated with it when I was finally had to learn to live with it.

Opinions from those who had already crossed the line were puzzling at first, and the more I heard about how excited it made them feel the more I started to question my parent’s voracity and the notions I had been taught all my life. My world was turning upside down as I became curious about the experiences others were having or claiming to have and didn’t know what to believe myself

My relationship was becoming closer with a boy I had known for several years. Halfway through my senior year in High School, he started to nudge me toward the things I had always been taught to stay away from and be afraid of. The areas of highest curiosity involved the things I had been taught for the longest period of time; it was probably normal that I would be vulnerable on the opposite end of the scale from the modesty that had always been stressed. Eddy overwhelmed my senses when he persuaded me to expose myself in his car in the student parking lot. I stripped naked and experienced raw and intense pleasure like I never imagined and couldn’t help wanting more.

Eddy exploited my weakness as he brought out pleasures through pushing me into exhibitionistic adventures that became as intoxicating as any drug or liquor ever made. The more I experienced the incredible and immediate pleasures, the more I was willing to do anything anyone wanted me to, just to feel them. Eddy and two of his friends held back a little to keep things at a somewhat ‘innocent’ level by not pushing me to a loss of virginity.

They may as well have taken that away though, because they were dong everything else they could. I was being finger fucked regularly and they made masturbate for them as well. The only thing they accomplished by not taking my cherry was giving me a false sense of security and increasing the anxiety and anticipation preceding my eventual deflowering.

The most incredibly orgasmic episode I remember before being fucked was when I ended up naked except for my high heels on a crowded dance floor at my senior prom. I had already become addicted to exhibitionism and sexual submission to Eddy’s direction and had already committed to be obedient before Eddy told me to take off my panties while we were dancing. It was hard to be secretive while dancing in Eddy’s arms, but the challenge only added to the sexy rush I felt.

The red satin dress I was wearing had slits in both sides that helped as I snagged my panties with my fingers at the top of the slits lifting the hem only several inches and pulled them down until they became loose enough around my legs to fall on their own to my feet. Darla, one of Eddie’s two allies eventually took off all my clothes in a dark corner and showed me off to a group of about a dozen guys, while she played with my pussy and made me cum. It was an exhibition in lust that would never be forgotten by those present bahis and probably known by everyone in Helena within time.

Our sex play was so constant and frequent during the last half of that senior year that I always expected something sexual to happen. The pace was maintained well into the summer with so much regularity I almost became nauseated with the excess. By the time I was getting ready to go to college I had overdosed on this adrenalin form of sex so much, I almost thought I would die if it didn’t end. Pandora’s Box was every bit as destructive as the warnings had foretold, and I was relieved to be going to college so I could break away; it would almost be like re-habilitation.

I went to a small church owned college and started to stuff my sex genie back into his bottle and I committed to act more mature and proper. I dated a number of guys that had no intention of pushing my hot buttons like Eddy had, but they were boring. Very few of them even seemed curious about whether I had any buttons or if I did where they were. It was almost easy to become Church-minded and boring myself.

Girls got together in public settings to properly enlighten each other on the characteristics to look for in a perfect “mate”. Little was ever said about qualities or traits relating to sex appeal; instead, honesty, respect, ambition and thoughtfulness were always at the top of their lists, right under spiritual strength of course. It all sounded good, even to me, and I started to feel guilty only when I thought back and remembered, so I pushed the memories into the bottle with the genie to ease the troubling recollections of the previous year.

What I didn’t realize in my conscious mind was that the unconscious part was not yet willing to let go of the sexual addiction. When I was alone, my thoughts became more and more sex oriented and I still loved the wet and slippery feeling I got in my pussy as I remembered the exiting times I had with the exhibitionistic games under Eddy’s magic touch and the mind blowing orgasms I had when he finger fucked me or made me fuck myself for his enjoyment. In the semi privacy of my room when my roommate was asleep or gone I masturbated to shuddering orgasms several times a week.

Although modest clothing was mandatory in the dress code, I pushed the limit wherever possible. I loved science classes, where the room was arranged like a little amphitheater, with the lecturer at a level below the seated students. On those days I would wear skirts or dresses as short as allowed on campus, so that when I sat, the hem pulled well above my knees, then I would take notes on the little fold down writing panel while I spread my legs as much as possible to show off my panties, or when I felt really dirty, my naked pussy. I preferred knee length socks on science days so the view of my panty crotch or naked puss was less hidden.

As I became more daring, my resolve to avoid temptation dropped. When ever I returned to Helena I looked up Eddy and even though I promised myself to be a “good girl” I always dressed so he could undress me easily and show me off. I started to look forward to the exhibitionistic reunions and soon the idea of going back to home for a few days would have me wet with anticipation.

It was during this period that I met Craig Jamison. With his winning ways, confidence and abundant “good characteristics” it wasn’t long before I really fell for him and thought he would make a great catch. For a while this helped me shift away from my obsession to daydream or show off, but the more romantic our relationship became, the more desperately I craved the sexual stimulations I had come to need. Although he met the core criteria for a perfect spouse, the thing that bothered me was that he treated me too well and too respectfully, he was the perfect prince but I had no idea how to be a princess anymore. I was starting to lust and he couldn’t see it.

We would make out for hours and he’d still be able to maintain control while I was climbing the walls to be fucked. Often when he left, I would open my blouse and push up my bra to expose my tits so I could fondle them and pinch my nipples as I walked to my bedroom. More than once my roommate was awake as I entered exposed like this. I would pull my bra modestly back into place, and with a sly smile seductively tell her that things were getting too hot making out, so Craig went home. In spite of my lack of sexual fulfillment the relationship between Craig and I deepened until one night over a romantic dinner he finally asked me to marry him.

He hadn’t planned on proposing that night although he knew was going to do it soon. We hadn’t even been window-shopping for rings so he hadn’t bought one yet. He was just so excited about marriage that the proposal sort of slipped out accidentally. He didn’t fully realize what he had asked until I accepted, so we thought we might wait until the holidays to make it formal. I was going to Helena for Christmas, and Craig would celebrate with his family, then he would join deneme bonusu me in time for New Years Eve so he could meet my family. From there we would see how things went.

I got to Helena with pent up emotions and wet panties. I had called Eddy and asked to see him (so I could tell him I was officially unavailable and off the market). Even though I denied it to my conscious self, I still dressed to be undressed. We were at his house in the back sun porch just off the kitchen where we could see Eddy’s mother preparing dinner when I told him. He became quiet and then after a pause simply asked “when”.

I must have sounded less certain about everything when I explained we hadn’t set a date yet, because he took me into a warm embrace that I thought was only to express congratulations. His hands moved over my back and I thought for an instant, he might be feeling sad about the coming change; instead, his hold on me strengthened and his movements became more urgent as his hands moved progressively lower until he was caressing and cupping my ass. For some reason, I didn’t push him away. He breathed seductively into my ear and caressed the side of my neck with his lips; then said quietly and firmly, “Take off your panties.”

I pushed away in protest but Eddy looked at me with penetrating eyes and said, “I’ve never forced you to do anything you weren’t begging to do already, “Now, take off your panties, you know you need to. I pulled my skirt well above my delicate sheer bikinis and held it in place with my elbows while I hooked my thumbs into the waist band and pushed them down over my soft hips until they fell freely to my feet. I stood holding my skirt high so he could see my soft flat tummy and my rich black pubic bush; when he told me to move my feet apart, I did and knew he could see the swollen lips of my labia between my spread legs and knew that I was already wet for him.

We were interrupted briefly by his mother asking if I would stay for dinner. Eddy answered that I was while I just stood there with my panties around my feet. When she went back into the kitchen I was surprised when he stopped me from pulling them back up and continued to undress me. He found and lowered the zipper at the back of my skirt. And I tried half heartedly tried to stop him, but my skirt was already on its way down to combine with the hobble at my feet.

He held me to him in a powerful embrace as his hands caressed and mauled my ass cheeks then started to move up my back under my blouse and deftly unhooked my bra strap. I knew then that he was going to strip me naked not more than 15 feet from his mother in the kitchen, and I wanted him to do it. I helped him unbutton my blouse and he pushed it from my shoulders and removed it along with my bra, then he massaged my aching tits and pinched the erect nipples.

He urgently moved one hand to join with mine already busy at my clit and pussy. He pushed several fingers deeply into the sucking wetness and then pumped them in and out feverously to get me off. I forced my hand down the front of his jeans so I could stroke his big thick cock and in only a few more seconds of urgent finger fucking and fisting his cock we both exploded in flesh quivering orgasms.

The blast of Eddy’s cum had covered my tummy and tits with the hot salty cream. I sensuously rubbed it into my skin before sucking some of the nectar on my fingers into in my mouth. We wanted to hang on to each other and bask in the afterglow but Eddy’s mother was calling us to the table for dinner.

We sat next to each other with the sliding glass door behind us that opened to a wooden deck overlooking the back yard. Not long after we had settled at the table and started to eat, Eddy had my skirt pulled up again.. I had to pull in tight to the table top for at least minimal cover and I spread my legs while he and I alternated the task of keeping my pussy to a boil.

When everyone finished, the family settled into the front room to watch TV programs, and Eddy led me by the hand back into the sun porch. This time he pulled the sheer curtains wide, opening the scene to our view as though we were outside and turned on the table lamps in opposite corners to illuminate anything in front of the windows to anyone outside. I was nervous when he led me to the center of illumination and my heart pounded with sexual anxiety.

“Now, where were we?” He asked as he began to stroke and caresses my body through my clothing.

When I asked what he was going to do he only said. “You know.” He moved behind me, with me facing the windows and unbuttoned my blouse again so he could remove it. He held me against him as he rubbed and fondled me and cupped my breasts from below, then he massaged them through my skimpy bra, and moved his fingers beneath the cups in teasing circles to squeeze and caress the soft yielding mounds and pinch the hardened nipples.

He pulled the bra up first over my straining tits and then on up over my head and off without un-clasping it. He rubbed massaged and pinched everything again urgently before he thrust one hand under the waistband of my skirt, slid it over my lower tummy and directly to my willing cunt. My hands went to the zipper at the back of my skirt, opened it and then pushed it from my hips until it resumed its favorite position at my feet.

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