The Origin of a "Sick" Whore- how I was
I often am asked how I became driven by my sexual urges. It seems very unnatural and twisted. So that I can avoid that question because the answer is long, complicated and deals with taboos that are only whispered about by a decent society. Most believe a woman like me only exists in sick fantasies- I am real and have to deal with my condition in some way every day.
I am a sex addict. I admit it. I have come to accept it and have given up on psychotherapy that began when I was 14. I am on porn sites seeking sexual excitement by exposing myself because of the condition that seems to control my life. Due to whatever reason, whether it was fate, coincidence, accident, Karma or magic, my husband and I were well matched and our marriage, as far as those outside looking in, is a fairy tale- sometimes it could turn into a nightmare. Keeping our sex lives secret is sometimes difficult. Having to seek sexual satisfaction every day, either physically with another or masturbation. Almost anything will trigger a sexual response within me, so my day is distracted by my need to be sexually satisfied. When I’m under stress I become even more sexually needy. I love to flirt and turn men on hoping to make their fantasies into realities. I have an obsessive need to compulsively have my ego stroked by attracting men as proof of some sick kind of worth. I find the taboo and socially unacceptable sexual encounters very exciting- young and married are extremely exciting. I am now very comfortable with being a whore- and my husband revels in my “unfaithfulness” and promotes my illicit relationships which are usually one-night stands with strangers.
I won’t go into it in detail here; but when I was seven my mother died, and I lost any defender I may have had. I was sexually abused when I was 9 by my older brother, and at eleven my father began to use me, too. By the time I was twelve my alcoholic, useless father decided that I had to work for my keep, and he made money offering me up to any drunk and low-life form of the male specie. It continued until I ran away from home at fifteen landing on the streets of Philadelphia to become a street whore. I was recruited by a pimp- and I needed somewhere to stay instead of shelters. I was using d**gs to numb me from the sexual and physical abuse. I was often used by my pimp and a few of his “best friends”. I was young, frightened and the only work I was qualified for was to be the sexual outlet for every dirt-bag that had a couple of dollars. My life was handjobs, blowjobs and fucking in dark parking lots or in filthy alleys bent over a garbage can. Any self-worth I may have had was closely intertwined with sex.
Once my mother died I was left with my brother who was two years older than I, and a father who suffered acute alcoholism and couldn’t hold down any job for more than a few days before being fired for his constant state of drunkenness. We were very poor; my brother and I at times would be forced to shoplift our meals. We lived in a run-down trailer with two bedrooms, which forced my brother to sleep on the tattered sofa at night. Unfortunately, most residents of our trailer park were in similar financial straits. We were trailer trash, and I became a trailer trash whore at a very early age. My brother and I grew up with little or no adult care. Social services at first visited us whenever my father was reported for abuse, but my lying and my brother swearing that we were just fine closed there cases. They would write off the call as having doubtful validity of any abuse. Even if there were possible abuse, authorities wrote it off as “what would anyone expect to come out of that shithole”. We were a low-life family that was ignored and fell between the cracks of society. I was an outcast at school and was shunned by girls and used freely and liberally by the boys. I was given the nickname of Blowjob Karen because I would find dark corners to suck cocks and bend over and have my dress lifted up. Even a few male teachers found me an easy mark. I had two i*****l abortions by f******n.
Perhaps my desire to engage in rough and sometimes painful sex is my self-punishment. My husband freely tells other men that I love to be a sexual slave and treated that way, which is not a false statement. I beg men to humiliate me verbally and physically, and my loving husband will join in and end up masturbating, often telling my partners to treat me like the “whore pig wife” that I truly am.
I’m a sex addict and am not seeking sympathy, just a modicum of understanding of my sick obsession. Being a wife, mother and teacher gives me the appearance of legitimacy and acceptability cloaking my true nature that is boiling just under my skin. If men show any interest in me, I have little control over the strong need to passionately give myself to them. I am “an easy piece of ass” and have always been one- but a very good one.
I am a sex addict. I admit it. I have come to accept it and have given up on psychotherapy that began when I was 14. I am on porn sites seeking sexual excitement by exposing myself because of the condition that seems to control my life. Due to whatever reason, whether it was fate, coincidence, accident, Karma or magic, my husband and I were well matched and our marriage, as far as those outside looking in, is a fairy tale- sometimes it could turn into a nightmare. Keeping our sex lives secret is sometimes difficult. Having to seek sexual satisfaction every day, either physically with another or masturbation. Almost anything will trigger a sexual response within me, so my day is distracted by my need to be sexually satisfied. When I’m under stress I become even more sexually needy. I love to flirt and turn men on hoping to make their fantasies into realities. I have an obsessive need to compulsively have my ego stroked by attracting men as proof of some sick kind of worth. I find the taboo and socially unacceptable sexual encounters very exciting- young and married are extremely exciting. I am now very comfortable with being a whore- and my husband revels in my “unfaithfulness” and promotes my illicit relationships which are usually one-night stands with strangers.
I won’t go into it in detail here; but when I was seven my mother died, and I lost any defender I may have had. I was sexually abused when I was 9 by my older brother, and at eleven my father began to use me, too. By the time I was twelve my alcoholic, useless father decided that I had to work for my keep, and he made money offering me up to any drunk and low-life form of the male specie. It continued until I ran away from home at fifteen landing on the streets of Philadelphia to become a street whore. I was recruited by a pimp- and I needed somewhere to stay instead of shelters. I was using d**gs to numb me from the sexual and physical abuse. I was often used by my pimp and a few of his “best friends”. I was young, frightened and the only work I was qualified for was to be the sexual outlet for every dirt-bag that had a couple of dollars. My life was handjobs, blowjobs and fucking in dark parking lots or in filthy alleys bent over a garbage can. Any self-worth I may have had was closely intertwined with sex.
Once my mother died I was left with my brother who was two years older than I, and a father who suffered acute alcoholism and couldn’t hold down any job for more than a few days before being fired for his constant state of drunkenness. We were very poor; my brother and I at times would be forced to shoplift our meals. We lived in a run-down trailer with two bedrooms, which forced my brother to sleep on the tattered sofa at night. Unfortunately, most residents of our trailer park were in similar financial straits. We were trailer trash, and I became a trailer trash whore at a very early age. My brother and I grew up with little or no adult care. Social services at first visited us whenever my father was reported for abuse, but my lying and my brother swearing that we were just fine closed there cases. They would write off the call as having doubtful validity of any abuse. Even if there were possible abuse, authorities wrote it off as “what would anyone expect to come out of that shithole”. We were a low-life family that was ignored and fell between the cracks of society. I was an outcast at school and was shunned by girls and used freely and liberally by the boys. I was given the nickname of Blowjob Karen because I would find dark corners to suck cocks and bend over and have my dress lifted up. Even a few male teachers found me an easy mark. I had two i*****l abortions by f******n.
Perhaps my desire to engage in rough and sometimes painful sex is my self-punishment. My husband freely tells other men that I love to be a sexual slave and treated that way, which is not a false statement. I beg men to humiliate me verbally and physically, and my loving husband will join in and end up masturbating, often telling my partners to treat me like the “whore pig wife” that I truly am.
I’m a sex addict and am not seeking sympathy, just a modicum of understanding of my sick obsession. Being a wife, mother and teacher gives me the appearance of legitimacy and acceptability cloaking my true nature that is boiling just under my skin. If men show any interest in me, I have little control over the strong need to passionately give myself to them. I am “an easy piece of ass” and have always been one- but a very good one.
1 年 前
