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I had spent five years being married. I had been a devoted wife. I was totally surprised by my ex-husband's confession that he was gay. I felt used by his pretend monogamy and felt the need to relive the lost sexual years I was faithful to him. To find the experiences I never had. To enjoy the escapades I never went on. I wanted the sexual thrills, the dangers, the risks my ex-husband had enjoyed. That bastard!?
So I took a sexual trip into the woods. Erotica for men. (female masturbation). Excerpt: I didn't know how I was going to feel on my thirtieth birthday, but it came. It was here. It was now. I could not stop it. Life has a way of sneaking up on you. Time has a way of showing what really matters. I couldn't wait to be 18. Old enough to make my own decisions. Old enough to get that flower tattoo. Old enough to stay up late. Old enough to kiss a boy. But now that I was older, divorced, single, living alone with no children, and facing some of life's hardships, I could pass on being a year older. I loved my new house. I loved my new community. I loved my new neighbor, what's her name? I loved living away from the city. Looking up at the stars at night. Watching lightning bugs flutter. Seeing deer race through the trees. I loved nature. And that's where I was headed. Out into the sunshine. On my thirtieth birthday. I walked into my backyard and kept on walking. The wilderness was only steps away from the backdoor. I liked that. I worked as a freelance writer, so my home was my office. And since I wasn't married anymore, I never had to be anywhere. I wasn't going to celebrate my birthday with family or with friends. I wanted to be alone. And being by myself would help me understand the changes I had recently gone through with the divorce: Telling family and friends. Packing up. Moving out. Saying goodbye to the neighbors. The bouts of depression. I was barefooted as I walked from my lawn to the start of a mysterious path into the woods. I left my shoes in the house. Would I need them? Maybe and maybe not. I didn't know. The excitement would be to watch where I was walking. I looked at my pale white toes on the grass. They were snowflakes in the dirt. I wore a dark blouse and a blue jean skirt. My legs and thighs were as pale as my feet because I had skin that didn't tan well. So instead of being gawked at and ridiculed, my habits formed to not wear skirts or to ever go barefooted outside. I was just too white. I glanced back at the house. My ex-husband helped pay for my new Dutch Colonial rural home with the divorce settlement. It wasn't a nasty divorce. We separated amicably. But we're not talking; we're not friends. And I deserved every penny. I bought 3 acres of land on the outskirts of Manhattan, Kansas. Near the Kansas River. I walked onto the start of the mysterious path under a canopy of trees. The path was a narrow strip through the bush, made from the previous owner who had lived in the house forty years before she died. Where the path led, I didn't know. But I thought it would be fun to find out. I brought along a small backpack that held a container of water, a brown-tailed butt plug, and lubricant.画面が切り替わりますので、しばらくお待ち下さい。
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