Epilogue

‘Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!’

Tony grunted angrily as he slammed his hips into the underside of my buttocks, driving his thick cock as deep into my vagina as its stubby length would allow.

Well after midnight and with too much champagne inside me, by the time the taxi had dropped me off at Tony’s apartment, I was desperate to put the difficulties of the day behind me and lose myself in an orgy of sexual degradation.

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Come on, fuck me!”

Tony was really playing his part this time. My voice sounded half crazed with lust as I lay helplessly beneath him on the over-sized double bed in his bachelor flat.

My body was in what was by far the least dignified but unquestionably the most effective position for crude, deeply penetrative sex that we had found over the last two years. With my legs lifted until my knees were almost on my chest, my calves trapped above his upper arms and with most of his body weight pinning me down, raising my bottom from the floor and presenting my fully-exposed, wide open vulva for his pleasure, I was as weak and vulnerable as any woman in history.

“Yes! Oh God Yes! Oh fucking God! Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

Degrading as it was, the position Tony called his Mating Press held me helplessly down on the bed but left his hips free to move as he pleased. And at that particular moment, what pleased him best was to hammer his erect cock into my exposed and defenceless vagina jack-hammer fast, the extreme angle of penetration allowing even his short stubby appendage to batter my already-abused cervix hard.

However pleasing it might be for him, it was even more for me, driving the day’s painful memories from my mind as effectively as his cock was driving copious amounts of fluids from my vulva.

The increasingly wet slapping sounds emanating from our conjoined loins and filling the room testified only too clearly!

‘Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!’

Pinioned, obscenely exposed and completely at the mercy of this man’s whim, I was no longer Doctor Penny Barker PhD, the fifty-five-year-old Senior Scientist, four times a mother and twice a Grandmother.

In that position and with my cunt filled to bursting by that ugly, deformed cock, there was no point even thinking I was anything but this man’s helpless, completely compliant fuck-toy.

But at that time and in that place, Tony’s fuck-toy was quite literally all I wanted to be.

‘Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!’

“Yes! Oh my God yes! Oh My GoooddddyyyeeeeoooWWWW!”

The orgasm that racked my body was one of the strongest and longest lasting I could remember in a long time.

‘Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!’

“YesYesYesYesYesYesYesYEEEESSSS!”

The climax seemed to go on forever, depriving me of speech, bodily control, even of breath.

‘Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!’

Tony was surpassing himself in his fucking; the climactic pressure inside me was almost unbearable. I needed to scream, to breathe, to pee myself.

‘Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!’

“Gonna Cum! Gonna cum now!” Tony’s voice was a mere croak as he fucked me for all he was worth.

‘Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!’

“Oh! My. Fucking. God. Pennnyyyy!

And with that, the body of the man who had turned my life upside down went into spasm, his face became an ugly grimace and he began to ejaculate once again in my pulsing, climaxing, entirely unprotected vagina.

In the heat of my final orgasm, I could feel and clearly picture my bruised and battered cervix opening and closing with the spasms of my climax, then dilating wide as I came hard, leaving the entrance to my womb wide open to the torrent of semen that Tony must now be spurting directly into it.

In a younger couple this would have surely led to conception, but for two lovers in their mid-fifties, that risk had passed. Tony’s vasectomy had long ago ensured there were no sperm in all that ocean of semen, and now the menopause had finally arrived, there were no eggs left in my body to be fertilised by them.

Safe sex. Soundly satisfying. Simple.

Not as young as I once was, it would take a long time to recover from this brutal but deeply satisfying copulation. For a good while I lay on my back on the bed alongside him, both of us panting for breath. My hips ached from having been held for so long in such a humiliating position, my bottom smarted from the brutal assault it had so willingly endured and as for my poor, abused vulva…

I lay there in post-coital haze, feeling the warmth of his body close by as I had so many times before, imagining the slow river of semen flowing through my belly, through my open cervix and deep inside the womb that had produced my four children.

I was certainly not the woman I was before he first fucked me, and as the last few years had shown, I would probably soon not be the woman I was now.

And what was I now precisely?

The world could see I was a divorced mother of four, a grandmother of two and as of that day, a mother-in-law as well.

Though many suspected, only a few knew for sure that I was also an unfaithful, cock-hungry slut who had given birth to a child not her husband’s.

Whatever I was, I had ended the day as I had done so many times over the past year; being fucked almost beyond reason by a man whose sole interest in me was my body and had loved every moment of it.

The difference was that this day was supposed to be one of the most important of my life.

***

It had been a beautiful day for a wedding. The sun had shone, the sky bright, the registry office Victorian, old and romantic.

I stood in the front row, my three-year-old daughter Leanne by my side, holding my hand. Her short, white dress contrasted perfectly with the olive-gold colour of her skin as Isobel, her half-sister passed by smiling happily.

There was a great deal about the last few years that I did not want to remember. The accusations, the recriminations, the bad feelings that even now permeated my relationships with my ex-husband and children had been hard to bear, but in most cases, had been justified.

But now, the worst of the divorce was over, and we had established a modus vivendi that was tolerable. Well, nearly tolerable. The kids no longer boycotted the flat I shared with my daughter Leanne, I saw my grandchildren no less frequently than Pete, and we were more than civil whenever we met.

It had crossed my mind that an invitation to our daughter Izzy’s wedding should not be taken for granted, but having shared a lover, my daughter and I now shared a deep and very secret bond so she had insisted I took the normal role of mother-of-the-bride, if not throughout the preparation, at least on the day itself.

My maternal instincts soared as my beautiful daughter reached the front of the chamber and stood side by side with the man she was about to marry. I could feel the tears welling already.

In deference to the warm weather, Izzy’s dress was short, showing off her long, skinny, athletic legs to impressive effect and, as intended, drawing the eye away from her total lack of breasts.

In deference to the rounded swelling of her pregnant belly, that dress was off-white in colour.

Izzy’s dark hair had been carefully styled; both it and her skin glowed with the vitality that pregnancy brought to even the oldest of expectant mothers.

She looked as every Spring bride should look; perfect!

There had been tears all round when Pete walked her down the aisle to meet the man who was about to become her husband.

The man who Izzy had known almost all her life.

The man whose father had seduced first me, then my daughter and who was now my closest friend – with benefits.

His duty performed, Peter joined me on the front row. The little remaining animosity between us put temporarily aside, we exchanged smiles, shrugs and tissues as the ceremony began. As the celebrant’s voice rang around the room, I looked surreptitiously at the family and guests assembled around us.

At my son Josh, his wife Samantha and their two small children; already a happy, very traditional family.

At my other son Timothy and his handsome partner Thomas, holding hands as tears ran down my son’s cheeks. He and Izzy and had always been as thick as thieves.

I looked surreptitiously across the aisle at Julie, the mother of the groom; the woman who used to be both Tony’s wife and my closest friend, but who now lived with my ex-husband in a large house in the countryside. She looked both happy and stunning, her petite, China-doll features and figure enhanced to perfection by the tailored, close-fitting dress she had selected and her carefully positioned hat.

Striking but not scene-stealing, unostentatious but unmissable. No one would dream that so delicate a flower could be such a tiger in bed.

I sighed. Once again, I had come a poor second.

Tony, the father of the groom was conspicuous by his absence.

It was, on the whole a happy day, with plenty to eat and enough to drink to keep the atmosphere light without too many people descending into the maudlin sadness a wedding can so often bring.

I was very much on best behaviour for the whole day.

My marriage to Pete now legally if not emotionally over, both he and I had been free to move on and find other partners should we wish.

With soap opera predictability, Pete’s side of our marital bed had barely cooled before he had taken the place he now occupied; alongside Julie in the bed she used to share with her own ex-husband.

Pete had gone straight from our home to hers, where the two of them had spent a full twelve hours in bed, fucking. Clearly his long working hours and overnight stays had not been as medically related as supposed for many months, which explained his exhaustion and sudden lack of interest in fucking me.

Had I been less absorbed in my own sexual affairs on and offline, I might have suspected this, but I hadn’t, not even when Tony dropped his own unsubtle hint.

The permanent look of smug, exhausted, sexual satisfaction that three years on still adorned my ex-husband’s face was like slap in my own. Even now, picturing his familiar, athletic body hammering into her petite frame could bring powerful feelings of jealousy.

For a long time I could not get them out of my mind, an obsession that contributed greatly to the year of insanity that followed the break-up. Even now, although I know I have to accept it and get on with my life, the green-eyes monster can make me scream into my pillow in the small hours.

The story we had told Izzy about us both having had affairs became public very quickly. This suited us both. Although it didn’t show either Pete or me in a good light, it did protect him from the stigma of being a willing cuckold while lifting a little of the shame and blame from my shoulders too.

At first, Pete and Julie’s new relationship caused scandal and speculation among all our colleagues and friends but it was soon overtaken by other gossip, much of it about me. They have been living as a couple for nearly three years now, but there is still no talk about them actually getting married.

Strangely, all of our children seem content with the situation – even Jack.

I remained in our family home with Leanne while the details of the divorce were worked out. Our three kids were very upset, but we made sure not to ask them to take sides. I moved out when it was sold.

What a day that was!

After University, Izzy moved into a flat with Jack. Two years later she became pregnant and as of today, is married. Tim continues to live happily with his boyfriend Thomas and Josh and Sam are carrying on their own baby-focussed lives.

None of them visit either of us often.

Bringing up Leanne as a single mother would have been difficult at any age, but for a woman in her fifties it has been a real challenge. To be fair to Pete, he has tried to fulfil his responsibilities, but with us no longer living in the same house, there is a limit to how great a role he can play.

Although both he and Julie knew that Leanne was not Pete’s child, neither of them has ever mentioned it to me or, as far as I am aware, to anyone else.

I returned to my work at the hospital on a part time basis, dropping Leanne off at nursery three days each week where to my relief, she has absolutely thrived.

Though a remarkably beautiful child, there is no concealing her mixed-race heritage now. No one with any understanding of genetics could possibly believe her to be Pete’s child, ipso facto I must have got pregnant by another man.

No-one mentions this to me either, but I’m sure many of our friends believe it to be the reason for our divorce. One or two of them are definitely keeping their distance.

As far as they are concerned, Penny Barker is now officially a slut!

I can’t blame them after all that happened, before and after Pete walked out.

Emotionally bruised and guilt-ridden by my part in the break-up, I had no illusions about finding another long-term, serious relationship. Being in my fifties would not have been an advantage anyway but being a single mother of a small child too, made me a very poor prospect indeed.

But something deep within me wanted to show both Pete and Julie that I was still a desirable woman; that what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander, that Julie wasn’t the only sexy woman around and above all and that jealousy was a two-edged sword.

The stupidity of this should have been obvious, but to a woman as obsessed as I was, nothing ever is.

Undeterred, and encouraged by the circle of divorcee friends I used avoid, but who I had now enthusiastically joined, I threw myself whole-heartedly into online dating.

With Promiscuous Penny now having no-one to cheat on, and few moral barriers left to breach, during my first year as a newly single woman, I went on many more dates and was much more enthusiastic on them than a nice girl should.

But then as everyone knew, I was not a nice girl.

It first, it was flattering how much interest these men showed in my skinny, fifty-three-year-old body. And it wasn’t just from men my age; the words MILF and even GILF were used more than once.

But it soon became clear that, once they had fucked me all they wanted, the reality of having a small child around the house soon dawned on them and their interest quickly waned.

Sometimes it took a few weeks before I was dumped; other times a single night was enough. And there were plenty of single nights.

Eventually it reached the point where even my divorcee friends warned me that I was gaining a reputation but still I continued to date. None of them came to anything in terms of relationships, though almost all ended up in bed.

There my oversized vagina often resulted in a disappointing performance for both me and my lover.

Whether it was a moment of madness or a misguided attempt at competing with Julie I cannot say, but soon, as well as having shared three lovers, I acquired another thing in common with my husband’s new partner.

Hidden between my thighs and at the top of my slit is a new, vertical gold bar. It is small, curved upwards and outwards and with a small gold ball at each end, piercing my clitoral hood. It is intended to partly expose and keep a light but permanent pressure on my sensitive nub at all times. It works!

The pain and embarrassment of having it done were considerable, and I had to abstain from sex for several weeks afterwards, but my God, it has been worth it!

From the very first, this extraordinary accessory brought minor climaxes from the slightest stimulation. Even the simple rubbing of my knickers against my vulva as I walked could bring me to a shuddering halt. Over time, that extreme degree of sensitivity has faded a little but there is no question a permanent improvement has been made.

Though still not in any way guaranteed, I can now reach orgasm much more frequently and with a much greater range of cock sizes and lovers’ skills than ever before.

For a while, sex with almost any man had a power and intensity that in the past, only Adam had come close to delivering. If breastfeeding had left me permanently aroused, for many months my new piercing kept me on the cliff edge of climax twenty-four hours a day.

For a while, I even considered having my vagina surgically tightened too, a procedure not uncommon in the USA but rarely performed in the UK for reasons solely of pleasure.

Sometimes it crossed my mind that, had these things been done during my marriage, the last five years might have been very different. Had our sex life been better, Pete might not have wanted me to sleep with other men, I might not have been so susceptible to Tony’s seductive powers and the year or more I had spent as a Hot Wife might never have happened.

But these were pointless thoughts; it had all happened and could not be undone.

With a new and exciting realm of sexual pleasure opening up before me, I threw myself into dating even more intensely and unfortunately, more publicly. Before long, the reputation I had been in danger of acquiring became a reality.

Penny Barker was indeed condemned as a slut by her former friends.

Soon poor Pete was considered well rid of her, and no-one’s husband should be allowed within five yards of her unaccompanied. Even my divorcee friends seemed to be avoiding me.

I have no idea how long this madness might have continued, but before the damage could become too entrenched, two events happened which together, rescued me in the nick of time.

The first was that I acquired something else in common with my stalker by picking up a sexually transmitted disease. It’s disgusting to confess I know, but clearly one of my dates had not been as scrupulous in his choice of previous lovers or his use of condoms as he should have been.

The itching began gradually one Monday morning, but by Friday it was way beyond ignoring and there was nothing to do but go to the clinic. Both antibiotics and an immediate halt to my sexual activities were prescribed, bringing the madness to a sudden halt.

It might have been just a temporary halt if the second event hadn’t occurred, but thank God it did.

It’s ironic that the man who had started me on the last few years’ descent into rampant promiscuity should be the one to rescue me from it, but that’s what happened: I bumped into Tony at the pharmacy while I was actually collecting my tablets.

At first, the embarrassment was overwhelming, but he was far too polite to ask anything personal. Instead we made slightly awkward conversation. 

Then Tony saved what remnants of a reputation I had, simply by asking me to have dinner with him that night.

With nothing left to lose, I agreed. That evening, Leanne stayed over at a friend’s house, I made a half-hearted attempt at looking my best and joined him in the restaurant.

To my surprise, I enjoyed it from the start. Tony knew most of my darkest secrets when I arrived and, after a second large glass of wine, soon learned the rest - including the reason for my visit to the pharmacy. I had expected a look of horror and revulsion to cross his face and for him to make excuses to leave, but he didn’t.

“That’s really bad luck,” was all he said, and that was with an amused smile. “How long will it take to cure?”

I told him and to my amazement, the conversation simply moved on to another subject. With sex so obviously off the menu, we could relax more in each other’s company. Before long, we were laughing and touching hands and the reasons I had fallen for him in the first place started to come flooding back.

We kissed on the lips as he dropped me off at my flat. His hands fell to my buttocks as they had that first afternoon and he pressed my body against his, but then he returned to his own apartment.

The following day he asked me out for lunch. I went happily.

Another lunch followed a few days later, then a few days after that, we had dinner again.

A week after that, we did end up in his bed.

And it was simply wonderful. The intensity of my climaxes made me cry in his arms afterwards.

Within a few weeks, I was taking maximum advantage of his much-repeated offer to be a permanent, long term Friend with Benefits, an arrangement that continues to this day.

I sleep with him – if any sleep actually occurs – once or twice a week either during those free afternoons when Leanne is at nursery, or when Pete is looking after her at the weekend.

And it works very well indeed.

With love and marriage off the table by mutual consent, Tony and I have become far closer than any normal friendship I had ever known. Now perfectly attuned in bed, we can act out our deepest fantasies, erotic, exotic, painful or just plain weird without shame or embarrassment.

We know the good and bad parts of each other’s natures as well as any husband and wife.

We know each other’s bodies even better.

The sex is as relaxed or adventurous, comforting, painful or demanding as we want it to be at the time.

And there is an awful lot of it.

Promiscuous Penny no longer needs to be a slut!

***

“God that was good,” Tony gasped as he rolled alongside me, grinning broadly.

“Up to our usual standard?” I asked, puffing with the exertion and aftershocks of my final orgasms.

“Better,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. “Something’s got into you today. And I like it.”

“The father of the groom dismounted from the mother of the bride,” I pretended to report. “Both claimed to be delighted with their most recent copulation.”

The soreness and muscle aches would start later, and I would feel terribly old in the morning, but right then I had consumed enough alcohol and cried enough wedding tears to make me consent to anything Tony wanted to do with me.

If either of us smoked, this would have been the perfect moment to light up and make pillow talk. As neither of us did, we had to make do with holding hands, my left in his right as we lay side by side on the rumpled, semen-smeared sheet.

“I suppose we are related now,” Tony pondered, then turned towards me with a cheeky grin on his face. “Does that mean we’ve just committed incest?”

I laughed.

“Is that another of your weird fantasies?” I asked.

“That’s good, coming from you,” he smiled knowingly.

I blushed. We lay in silence for a long time.

“It was a very nice wedding,” I eventually said thoughtfully. “Izzy and Jack looked perfect – and very happy.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Tony said sulkily. “I wasn’t invited.”

I sighed.

“You were invited,” I told him patiently. “We agreed it would be a bad idea for you to go, remember?”

“My own son’s wedding…” he protested.

“Whose fault is it?” I asked, jokingly but he seemed to take it seriously.

I sighed in exasperation.

“Tony, you were married to the groom’s mother, you’ve just fucked the bride’s mother and God knows how many of the other female guests you’ve had. There’s no way you could possibly have gone to the ceremony.”

He snorted.

“You’ve even fucked the bride herself,” I added bitterly.

It was still a sore point between us. At least he had the decency to look shamefaced.

“Well if you put it like that…” he began.

“How else can I put it,” I asked, stroking the soft downy hair on his chest. “You’d have been the spectre at the feast.”

“I suppose so,” he grudgingly agreed, then turned to face me. “Want to stay the rest of the night? It’s very late.”

“Please; if it’s okay with you,” I smiled through orgasm-dazed eyes. “Pete’s bringing Leanne round to my place tomorrow lunchtime.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Tony smiled down at me, running his fingers over my sticky, slimy lower belly.

God only knows what he found so attractive about the stretchmark-patterned flesh above my now permanently shaved vulva, but for some reason, post-copulation, the appeal never seemed to fade.

“I have got a… a date at one o’clock though,” he added, a rather shifty note in his voice.

“A date?” I teased. “Who is she and have you fucked her yet?”

“Penny!”

He tried to sound shocked, but I knew him too well and simply gave him an old-fashioned look.

“Well,” he began, “Her name is…”

Tony named a woman I knew by sight from the sports club I used to frequent in the days when I could afford it.

“Isn’t she married?” I asked, knowing full well the answer was in the affirmative.

Tony blushed but I knew better than to think this was either embarrassment or shame.

“Let me guess,” I said, stroking his lower belly, my fingers just touching the end of his cock.

It was beginning to harden again. I stroked it more firmly as I continued.

“You haven’t fucked her yet, but you’ve made progress.” I ran my fingers along the underside of his shaft, from his sack to its tip. “So much progress that you reckon tomorrow…” I looked at the bedside clock. “No, today might be the day she finally lowers her guard just enough for the infamous blitzkrieg assault you used on me and Izzy to get you into her knickers too.”

I cupped his balls in my palm and kneaded them then returned to his shaft.

“So, you want all traces of me out of your flat before she arrives.”

The look on Tony’s face told me that was indeed his plan. His firming cock in my fist told me how much he was looking forward to relieving this woman of the heavy burden of fidelity to her husband.

“It’s not quite like that,” he began to protest.

“It’s exactly like that, Tony,” I chided, beginning to pump his thick cock in my hand. “This is Penny Barker talking, one of the two women in the world who knows you for good or bad. And I can tell you from a woman’s point of view, it’s mostly bad.”

“Penny...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be long gone by the time Little Miss Itchy Knickers comes around.”

Tony pretended to be outraged but I could tell he was pleased.

“If you think I’m so bad, why do you…?” he asked indignantly.

“Keep coming back?”

I thought for a moment then dipped my head to kiss the tip of his cock.

“It’s probably because of this fellow here…”

I smiled, giving his now fully erect, stumpy cock a powerful squeeze.

“You’re a hopeless prospect as a life partner, we both know that.”

I looked up into his eyes then addressed his hardening cock.

“You’re unfaithful,” I planted another kiss on its tip.

“You’re lecherous,” I licked around the ridge beneath its head.

“You have no morals about who you fuck,” I licked the full length of the underside of his shaft.

“No wife or daughter is safe from you!”

He frowned, no doubt wondering what I would say or do next.

“But this chap here… he’s not like you. He’s different.”

I squeezed his thick, stumpy shaft in my fist.

“He’s incredibly ugly, but unlike you, he’s strong and reliable.”

I licked along the shaft again and felt Tony tremble slightly.

“He’s short but he’s so, so thick. And unlike you, he doesn’t let a girl down.”

I took his head completely into my mouth and sucked, tasting my own acrid juices on his swollen flesh, once again, marvelling how any man could find such a flavour arousing.

“When he does a job, he does it properly. Unlike you, he never leaves a girl unsatisfied.”

I ran my tongue all over Tony’s thick, rounded, slightly purple head then lapped at its tiny lips from where precum was already oozing its oily sweetness.

“Unlike you, he’s the sort of friend that every girl needs. I just can’t seem to manage without him.”

I smiled up at him then rose to Tony’s face where I kissed him firmly on the lips, enjoying his strange expression when he tasted our combined juices.

“If I could have just him, I would,” I grinned. “But because he’s stuck to the rest of you, I suppose I’m stuck with the rest of you too.”

The smile on Tony’s face spread from ear to ear as I continued.

“Now stop messing around and fuck your son’s mother-in-law senseless.”

Tony mounted me forcefully, parting my legs with his knees and driving his thick, ugly cock into my gaping cunt as hard as he had ever done, before beginning the familiar shallow, measured strokes that were all his short, stubby cock could manage, but which could drive me insane with lust.

Barely minutes later, I had sunk my teeth into his forearm and was raking his shoulders with my fingernails as my skinny legs wrapped themselves around his waist.

A moment later the room was filled with the wailing, orgasmic voice of a menopausal, middle-aged mother with tiny boobs and a stretch-marked belly, begging the man who had first seduced her to cum in her cunt and knock her up for a fifth time, her last vestiges of dignity dissolving in a haze of orgasmic bliss.

***

I lay next to Tony afterwards, my chest heaving, skin tingling, beads of sweat on my face next and chest, feeling the familiar emptiness in my lower belly that always came after a truly satisfying copulation.

My vulva and anus were already sore and would be sorer still in the morning, but I didn’t care.

As I stared blankly at the ceiling, a strange feeling of contentment forced its way into what remained of my conscious mind. A deep contentment that I hadn’t felt since the day it all fell apart.

Against all the odds, I was finally happy.

I was happy being single, happy being Leanne’s Mum, happy being a Grandmother, happy in my job too but most perversely of all, happy being the fuck toy of an unreliable, unscrupulous man with whom I was once again at least a little in love.

What was more, Pete was happier with Julie than he had been with me for years; you only had to see them together to understand that. Our children Josh, Tim and Izzy were happy with their partners too and were at least back on speaking terms with their errant parents.

And Tony was naturally happy to have a reliable and readily available bed partner for the increasing number of nights when his intended victim escaped conquest.

It wasn’t how I had expected my life to be, and a lot of unhappiness had been inflicted on those I loved on the journey. This contentedness was perhaps more than I deserved, but as I pictured Tony’s copious semen making its sticky way into the depths of my defunct reproductive system once again, there was no question my life could have been a great deal worse.

Perhaps Tony’s fuck-toy was what I should have been from the start.

Perhaps he and I had always been destined for each other in this way, but hadn’t realised it.

Perhaps with time and the confidence he was restoring in me, I would dare venture into the world of other men once again.

Perhaps, just perhaps, Penny’s Promiscuity might not be over after all.

***

Penny’s promiscuity might not be over, but after fifty chapters and over 300,000 words, this series most definitely is.

I did not intend it to be this lengthy a work when I started; it just seemed to grow and grow. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me throughout this saga and encouraged me to see it through. I really appreciate your support and hope you have enjoyed at least some of it.

For those who have been critical and have made their thoughts public, thanks to you too for taking the trouble. I try and learn from every comment, good or bad.

And for the many who have asked, although I am not Penny, there is indeed a little of me in every chapter.

There is a great deal of me in one…

But now it is time to move onto new, exciting things! I hope you like them too.

Love Jenny xx