My name is Summer. I am in my early 30's, single with brown curly hair and curves in all the right places. I am not a rail thin model type, but I blessed as I am with an ample chest and I still turn heads whenever I show off some cleavage or wear a bathing suit. I guess I would say I've got a girl next door look. I'm not glamorous, but I'm still easy on the eyes.
Publicly if you were one of my friends or worked with me you would think I'm pretty conservative. I drink occasionally, but at work outings I never get drunk and out of control. I date occasionally and sometimes stay with a guy for a few months, but have yet to find Mr. Right. But that is not to say I don't sometimes settle for Mr. Right-Now.
You see beneath my plain Jane exterior is a seething caldron of passion. I learned early in life how to pleasure myself. In fact, if I don't orgasm at least twice a day I really begin to turn into a bitch.
Few guys have been able to keep up with my sexual needs for more than a short while so I usually just take matters into my own hands unless I'm particularly horny in which case I'll tart myself up, head to a bar in a nearby city (I don't want to accidentally run into friends) and let myself be picked-up for a few hours of carnal pleasure. I always feel guilty when I'm leaving the guy's house or apartment, but with the itch between my legs temporarily satisfied, they guilt fades pretty quickly. Of course by the next afternoon my pussy is feeling the need again to relieve my lusts so it's back to my vibrators, dildos and other fun items in my toy collection.
Even if you knew my "normal" persona and happened to meet me on one of my sex quests, I'm sure I could just dispel your concerns with a simple tale of feeling lonely. But if you happened to discover my real passion, discover what really makes me cum hard, I guarantee you would think differently about me.
You see, in college I discovered an entire subculture of people who thought the way I did. People who were turned on by the things that make my pussy drip and my clit quiver. When I was growing up and my friends and I would play "cowboys and Indians" or other innocent role playing games. I would always play the part of a damsel in distress needing to be rescued. I'd hold my wrists together behind my back and pretend to be tied up. It was all in good fun. A neighbour boy always wanted to be the sheriff and he always liberated me from whomever was playing the bad guy.
These games were not sexual. We were far too young and naïve for that. I gave away my virginity in high school to a steady boyfriend. I never came with him, but I didn't know any better. I was his first sexual partner and he didn't know how to please me. In retrospect I didn't really know how to please him either, but he wasn't too concerned as the mere act of putting his penis in me and thrusting a couple of times would make him squirt. It wasn't until I was in college that I dated an older more experienced guy who helped me cum.
Our first time being intimate he went down on me and then rubbed my clit while he fingered me. I'd never had oral or masturbated at that point of my life and I came so hard I scared myself. He seemed proud of his abilities and my reaction to what he'd done. That night I sucked my first cock, rode my first cock (my boyfriend always wanted to be on top) and took my first load of man goo in my mouth. I loved everything.
So began my decent into sexual pleasure. I found masturbation to be almost as satisfying without the headaches of having a partner. I had to be discrete as my roommate was even more of a prude than I had been. I scheduled my classes to begin one period later than she did so four mornings a week I could play with myself after she left. I also kept close tabs on when she had to work or go to the library and scheduled my own work and studying around her schedule as much as possible to maximises my finger time. I bought my first vibrator, a humiliating experience but something that had to be done, and got caught masturbating by her a couple of times.
I bet you want me to tell you that we ended up looking up because like me she was really a wild woman underneath her calm exterior. I'd like to tell you that but it never happened. The first time she was a little shocked, but she seemed to quickly accept that I was probably playing with myself whenever she was out of the room. She seemed to be gone more preferring to ignore my growing need for sex. The next year I had a roommate who was much more liberated. Like me she masturbated frequently and didn't seem to care if I walked in on her in the act. On weekends we'd hit the frat parties. She seemed to "get lucky" more than I did, but probably it was because she had lower standards.
One thing she did have was an adventurous spirit. She introduced me to porn, rented from the local video shop, assorted toys in her collection beyond my simple vibrator (she didn't mind me borrowing but I had to wash them when I was done) and the seminal event in my transformation to bad girl, a website with erotic stories.