When I was eighteen, I got pregnant by a man who was in the Air Force and six years older than I was and I had known for only a month. Without telling my parents I was pregnant, I left home and he and I got married, again without telling my parents. Two weeks after we were married, he got transferred to another base in another state.

I left the city I was born and raised in, my family, and never had an intention of looking back. I was going to see the world with my new husband and have a child and live happily ever after. None of that ever happened.

I was born In Macon, Georgia and lived there until I was eighteen. My mother is Japanese and my father is white. They met and fell in love when they were both working for the YKK Zipper Company plant located outside the city of Macon. YKK is a Japanese company and my mother came over from Japan to work there. My father was a local from Macon who worked there.

A month after my husband and I were married, I had a miscarriage. We lived in Louisiana since my husband was stationed at Barksdale Air Force Base, so much for seeing the world. I soon began to realize that I didn’t know the man who got me pregnant, and I married. We were married for nine years before I left him and filed for divorce.

He was an abusive alcoholic. His abuse was not physical, but verbal. I endured his alcoholic drinking and verbal abuse. I was young, but the day he punched me in the face which resulted in six stitches and a black eye was the day I left and soon filed for divorce. No one hits me.

The next man I dated and soon married when I was twenty-eight was even worse than my first husband. He never hit me, but we argued a lot and, like my first husband, he was verbally abusive. He would even sometimes spit in my face. While we were dating, he was charming and treated me like a queen. After we got married, things changed, and I found out what kind of man he truly was.

He didn’t have many positive qualities, but I will give him credit for one thing. The sex was great; the man knew how to fuck me and make me cum quickly and intensely, but sex was not worth what I endured in my second marriage.

After we got married and the short “honeymoon” period was over, I found out what he was truly like. He was jealous and possessive of me as well as manipulative, cunning, devious, and a con man. I had never met anyone like him. He was the type of man you would see on true crime TV shows and think to yourself, how can someone like that fool as many people as they did and how could some woman fall and stay married to such a man for a long time?

Well, they do exist and women fall for their con. It’s hard to explain the things he did or for me to explain why I stayed with him for ten years, but I did. We moved around a lot because of his schemes and his wanting to stay one step ahead of the people he conned and even the law. Something I was unaware of.

He was the type of person that wanted people around him to mimic his moods. When he was happy, he wanted people around him happy, when sad he wanted people around him to be sad, when angry he wanted people around him to be angry, and when miserable he wanted people around him to be miserable.

I tried to leave him once. After we were married for six years and living in Texas, I was working at a call center and met a married woman who I became friends with. I explained my marriage and how unhappy I was and she told me if I needed to leave him, I could stay with her and her husband.

One day, after a particularly nasty argument with my husband, I packed up a lot of my clothes after my husband went to work and I left and went to stay with my friend. After about three weeks, I went back to my husband. I went back to him, not because I loved him; I had not loved him in years if I ever did, but because he made my friend and her husband’s life hell and I could not let them endure the things he did.

My then husband found out where my friend and her husband lived and their phone number and he would call constantly asking to speak to me. Sometimes I did just to try to get him to stop calling. He would drive by the house and spy on me, do childish things like ring the doorbell and run off before it was answered, call repeatedly and hang up, and other things.

Then he started calling where I worked. He would call the toll-free number and talk to anyone who was in the call rotation and tell them I was a whore, I was fucking my friend’s husband, or that my friend and her husband and I were in a perverted three-way sexual relationship. Then he found out where my friend’s husband worked and called his office and did the same. It was humiliating.

Not wanting to put the kind people who were allowing me to stay with them through any more of my husband’s shit; I left and went back to him.

Things changed when I got back home and for the worse. My husband told me since I left him I now owed him for hurting him the way I did and I had to make it up to him. One way I had to make it up to him was sexually. I no longer denied him sex or blowjobs when he wanted it and the sex became hard and rough and sometimes brutal. I also allowed him to do something he had wanted to do since we met. I let him fuck me in my butthole.

I protested and refused and cried and begged him not to, but he did anyway and reminded me I owed him. The thing was, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it a great deal and would have liked it even more if it was not from him. I never let him know it felt good, however.

Each time he fucked me in the ass or fucked me in general, I made a big deal of it and a lot of drama as I pretended to cry and protest. I refused to let him know that even though I hated him, he still gave me sexual pleasure.

We moved again, of course, and now I was not allowed to work or have friends. I had to let him know where I was every minute of the day when I was not with him. He spied on me, having friends he would make, not true friends, just people he used to spy on me. Call me constantly to check up on what I was doing and where I was at if I was not at home. I stayed with him for another six years.

An example of his devious cunning was the time I left him and his activities finally caught up to him when I was thirty-eight.

He always owned his own business, doing upholstery work for cars or boats. He did have a talent for that and was very good and got contracts with companies who had fleet vehicles, etc. But he was never successful because he would take people’s money upfront, thousands of dollars, for the materials and then spend the money and never do the work, not pay his employees, etc. We would then move when these people or companies wanted their money back and he would start over again.

One may ask how he could keep doing that. As I mentioned, he was a con man, cunning and devious, and knew how to play the system and get people to loan him money.

Why did I stay with my first husband for six years and my much worse second husband for ten years? It was the type of person I was, the key word being “was”. I had always been a submissive type of person with guys I dated and were married to, as well as the type of woman that felt she needed a man in her life.

I was not shy or introverted and not submissive, as in what people would refer to as the BDSM lifestyle. I don’t have self-esteem issues or lack confidence. I was just submissive when it came to men. I let the guys I dated control where we went on dates, what movies we saw, where we went to dinner, etc. I don’t know why I was like that. My older sister was not like that and my mother certainly was not like that. It was just my personality and my two ex-husbands took advantage of it.

It was not like I had to settle on men who took advantage of it. While I was never some stunning, beautiful girl or woman, I have always considered myself attractive even at age forty-five, I think I am attractive. I have had men tell me I am beautiful or hot, but I know I am not and wish they would not lie and be honest with me. Just tell me I am an attractive woman and stop telling me lies about my looks just to think flattery will get them laid. I am completely aware of my physical features.

I am five foot, seven inches tall, thin, and very little curves to my boyish figure. I have small breasts and a skinny flat ass. I have more respect for men who are honest about what they think of my looks than those who try to flatter me.

After ten years of being married to my second husband, I had enough once again and got the courage to leave once more while he was at work. The mistake I made was not answering the phone when he called. He sensed something was wrong and came home from his work and caught me packing my belongings in my car. We got into a heated argument, so bad the neighbors called the police. The police ran his name through the system and found some outstanding warrants for his arrest for fraud in two different states.

I was feeling good that I could finally leave him until he told the police to run my name through the system. They found out I had a warrant for writing a bad check.

The warrant was close to a year old, and I had no idea I ever wrote a bad check. My then husband was so devious and cunning that when the grocery store I wrote the check to sent their notifications about the check and for me to settle it, he kept them and didn’t tell me about it. He did it on purpose, knowing that eventually a warrant would be issued and that one day he would have that “in his pocket” to use against me when needed.

I was arrested but then released on my own recognizance the next morning. My then husband was in jail and even had the nerve to ask me if I could find someone to help with his bail. I told him to fuck off, and I decided it was time for me to go home. The last I saw of my second husband was him being put into a police car as I was being put into another.

I had no money and my husband had destroyed my credit, again something I didn’t know. He had taken out credit cards in my name and other loans in my name. I had to break down and call my older sister for help.

I had not spoken to my older sister in about three years and my parents even longer since I left home. Family can be a wonderful thing. After my sister recovered from her tears of joy that I was still alive, she didn’t hesitate to wire me more than enough money to get home. I settled the bad check I wrote and went back to Macon, Georgia, a place I swore I would never go back to.

My mother and father welcomed me back home with tears of joy and open arms. My mother never asked what had happened to me since I left home, but after a couple of weeks I was back home and living with my parents again; my father did. I told him all of it. He paid for my second divorce.

Since I had been gone, both my parents had retired and moved to live at a lake house on Lake Sinclair, a large lake that was about an hour away from Macon. I lived with them until I was back on my feet.

I got a job working as a receptionist while I tried to figure out what to do next with my life. Almost two years later, I decided to go back to school part-time and earn an associate degree to become a Radiologist Technician, taking x-rays and CAT scans, etc. My father told me to go back full-time instead and told me I could live at home for as long as I needed. Two years later, I got my degree and started working in the ER at the local hospital.

I loved my new career! I started to get back on my feet, was making good money to help restore my credit, and could rent a nice two-bedroom house back in Macon. I was surprised at how happy I was to be living back in a city I never wanted to see again.

At age forty-two, my life was finally going well. I had put off men. I no longer felt I needed a man in my life to be happy. I didn’t date anyone after my second husband, even though I was asked out on occasions. I didn’t need a man anymore, and I was much more assertive than I was before. I was no longer going to be that submissive woman I was before. I left her behind the day I left my second husband for good. A man was never going to control my life again!

I was spending time with my family, getting to know my two nieces and my brother-in-law. I was forty-two when my father died of a heart attack. My mother moved back to Macon to an over-fifty retirement community, but she didn’t sell the lake house.

We use the lake house often for the family. We go boating, fishing, water skiing, etc. there. We take advantage of it and my nieces love it.

Then I met an eighteen-year-old boy named Travis.

Travis was the roommate of a young man named Anthony, who was dating my oldest niece. They were both freshmen at a local university in Macon, Mercer. They both played on the school’s basketball team.

I met Travis one day when I was over at my sister’s house, and Anthony brought his teammate over when he came to see my niece. My first reaction when I met the boy was that I had never seen a prettier boy in my life.

Not pretty as in feminine, pretty, there was nothing feminine about Travis. He was pretty in a masculine manner. The young man stood at least six feet, six inches tall. I later found out he was six feet, seven inches tall, according to his basketball bio. He was not some tall skinny player, but had a muscular athletic build. He had black hair that came just past his ears and the most incredible blue eyes I had ever seen.

My first impression of the young man was if I had been twenty years younger, I would have thrown myself at him. He was just so damn good-looking.

The next time I saw him was on Thanksgiving a few months later. Travis was from Savannah, Georgia, and didn’t go home for Thanksgiving break. He and Anthony stayed in Macon because their team had a basketball game the day before and the day after. My sister invited them to her house.

Something odd happened that day. Travis and I struck up a friendship. It was odd because of the age difference. It started when my niece and Anthony and Travis were going to the movies that day after we ate and my niece invited me along.

I declined at first; I had to go to work later that night. I worked three days on and four days off work shifts in the ER at the hospital downtown. I also felt I should stay and help my sister clean up.

My sister encouraged me to go because she didn’t want my help washing dishes. My sister is very anal-retentive when it comes to her house and where things go and how it should be cleaned. I went to the movies with them.

I found out I enjoyed Travis’s company and he enjoyed mine and we became friendly with one another and then friends. He had just broken up with his girlfriend back home a couple of months before we met.

There was nothing sexual about our friendship, at least at first. We talked and hung out, just the two of us went on dates as friends and yes, we did flirt with one another, but it was tame flirting and just fun. I was flattered a good-looking young man like Travis flirted with me. We soon did other things together and while not a sports lover, I went to see him and Anthony play basketball along with my niece and brother-in-law.

We spent so much time together that people did think we were having sex; even my sister questioned me about it a few times. But it was strictly a platonic relationship, and we were just friends. Even though we were only friends and not dating, I soon found myself falling back into my old pattern with the men I dated. I was becoming submissive again.

I started to let Travis dictate the things we did when we hung out. He chose the movies we saw, the places we ate, etc. and I let him without even thinking about it. It was all subconscious to me. Even though it was a platonic relationship, he was the man, and that’s what men do. They take charge and are in control.

I won’t deny that there was a physical attraction I had for him, and I think he had it for me as well. There were times you could sense the sexual tension that built up between us. Our flirtations with each other had gotten more risque at times. You could feel it in the air, but we would never act on it because we were just friends.

He was much too young for me and I was not some cougar woman who went out trying to hook up with younger men. We were just friends, but about three months after Travis and I became friends and started hanging out, things changed.

My youngest niece’s sixteenth birthday was coming up, and she asked me to bake her some matcha cookies, a Japanese cookie. I was an excellent cook and my niece loved my matcha cookies with white chocolate chips added.

I was going to the grocery store to get the ingredients the day before my niece’s birthday and Travis texted me asking what I was doing that day and wanted to know if I wanted to hang out. I told him and he said he would go to the store with me. That was not unusual at all. We hung out a lot, and he often went with me on errands, etc.

We were in the kitchen after we had gotten back from the store and I was reaching up to get the mixing bowl from my cabinet. I am not a short woman, but my mixing bowls were on the top shelf and I was having a hard time reaching them.

“I’ll get it,” Travis told me.

Before I could move out of the way, the tall boy pressed his body to mine and reached over my head. He grabbed the stacked up bowls and put them on the counter in front of me. I turned my body around and we were pressed against each other.

I looked up into the young man’s incredible blue eyes as he looked down at me. Travis then put his arms around my waist as I put mine on his chest. When he leaned down to kiss me, I rose up on my tiptoes to meet his lips with my own.

There was no protesting on my part. We finally acted on the sexual tension between us. When we kissed, it was not a timid kiss of two people kissing each other for the first time. It was immediately hard, intense, and passionate.

As we made out and our tongues explored each other’s mouths, I felt Travis’s hands reach under the hem of the sundress I was wearing and he started to pull my panties down. I started unbuttoning his blue jeans. When Travis had my panties down to my knees, I broke our kiss to allow the boy to finish pulling his jeans and for me to step out of my panties.

With his jeans and underwear at his knees and his hard cock exposed, I reached out and took it in my hand as we started kissing again. I gave a gasp at the size of his penis. It felt large in my long, thin fingers. I should not have been as surprised as I was because of Travis’s height and body, but I was.

It felt large, but I didn’t look at it then because Travis placed his hands on my skinny butt, lifted me up, and sat me on the kitchen counter. I spread my legs for him and he entered my pussy in a hard thrust.

“Oh, fuck!” I cried out in both pain and pleasure.

Because of his size and that I was not wet enough yet and that I had not had my pussy penetrated in years; it hurt, but the pleasure of it was greater.

“Oh, God!” I cried out again as Travis thrust into me a second time.

His initial thrust into me only penetrated me about halfway and he pulled back and thrust hard into me a second time to fully penetrate my pussy. He then started to fuck me.

I put my arms back around his waist and buried my face into his neck as Travis had his large hands on my lower back. With each hard thrust into me, I made loud, moaning cries to God as his thick, long cock stretched my neglected pussy and penetrated me deep.

Yes, I am one of those types of women. The type who calls out to God or the man’s name and I am quite loud when getting fucked. Travis made grunting moans with each powerful thrust into me. I liked that; I liked hearing a man’s masculine grunts and moans.

It was hard and fast and over within about five minutes. But it was fantastic, and I had an incredible orgasm after about four minutes. As I was cumming, Travis kept fucking me hard in my now wet pussy. He grunted out he was going to cum about a minute after my orgasm ended.

“Not in me,” I told the boy.

Since I was not dating or not having sex since my second ex-husband and I were married, I was not on birth control. As much as I enjoyed the feeling of my lover cuming inside me, I didn’t want to roll the dice and end up pregnant.

Travis pulled out of me and I started kissing his neck as he jerked his cock until he orgasmed. When he orgasmed, he made loud, masculine, deep grunts of pleasure. Cum landed on my dress, my thighs, my pussy, and even the counter. The boy’s cock exploded with an abundant amount of his thick, sticky, warm fluid.

After his orgasm ended, Travis stepped back and quickly pulled up his underwear and jeans. I got off the counter and picked up my panties from the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Travis said as I was using my panties to wipe the cum from my thighs and outside of my pussy.

I smiled at the boy, who looked ashamed of himself. He looked as if the sex had not been consensual and he took advantage of me.

“Don’t be,” I told him. “I think it was bound to happen one day and now we got it out of our system.”

Travis chuckled. “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s out of mine,” he told me.

I giggled, walked to him, stood on my tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. “I think I better go change and clean up,” I looked over my shoulder, “and disinfect the counter before I start on the cookies.”

Travis laughed. “Yeah, good idea. We did make a mess on the counter.”

“We? I think most of that mess is yours,” I teased.

Travis laughed again as he sat down at the dinette table in the kitchen. I started to walk out of the kitchen and stopped at the entranceway and looked over my shoulder.

“Are you coming?” I asked.

Travis looked at me with a confused expression on his face.

“You said it’s not out of your system yet and I think we need to get it out,” I told him.

Travis grinned and quickly stood up and followed me to my bedroom.