Following My Desires To Be Promiscuous

Allowing My Passions To Guide Me

Change is never easy; however, nothing is more important than following my desires. After a long, disenchanting marriage and a string of bad relationships, I decided to move to a small town and start over.

Following my desires, I seem to stand out without really trying. Driving into town in my red convertible with the top down, the townsfolk notice me right away. After moving into a small yellow house by the edge of the creek, I sensed it was time to explore the local flavor. Questions were being asked that I wasn’t prepared to answer. The locals wanted to know where I came from and what I was doing here. I just smile and reply, “Just looking for a quiet place to start over”. No one asks from what. I think they prefer to draw their own conclusions, and within weeks, they certainly did.

Small Town Flavor – Following My Desires

After taking a part-time job at a local hardware store, following my desires became easy. I thought to myself this was probably the best place to meet men. And it was! Suddenly every single man from 20 to 60 remembered projects that needed doing. And a lot of the married ones as well! The mayor stopped by for paint he never used. The local pastor volunteered to fix my porch rail. One sexy married stranger asked me to have dinner with him after offering me his generator “just in case the power goes out”.   Following my desires feels like having a devil on both shoulders, I have to admit I absolutely love all of the attention.

Their wives noticed me as well. Rumors began, and I quickly became a hot topic. Comments like “she’s just lonely”, “she’s dangerous,” and the word “homewrecker” floated through the air like pollen. Following my desires led to passion in places I never expected. Steamy make-out sessions down by the creek soon led to nights of passion tangled in my soaked silk sheets. Soon, I was enjoying administering blowjobs to the horny priest in the rear parking lot of the church.

The local grocery store owner was feeding me his hot load on a regular schedule as well. Following my desires led me to a farmer’s cock as large as the ears of corn he grew. Having my pussy eaten in a hay loft was a pleasure I found myself yearning to enjoy again and again. By summer, five marriages were on the rocks and the church pews felt as cold as blocks of ice. The women were avoiding the hardware store altogether. The men were avoiding looking at their wives when my name came up in conversation.

Deep Breaths, Deeper Desires

Then came the 4th of July picnic. The one everyone attended because not going would be noticed. Following my desires, I showed up in a pretty pink sundress shorter than a midsummer night with no panties. Everyone, stop talking for a full minute. I brought a fresh peach pie, laughed at all the right moments, and clapped politely during the fireworks. After the picnic, I didn’t go home alone. Sheriff Daniel’s truck wasn’t seen until the following day. And his wife left town two days later to “visit her sister”.

By August, following my desires, the town had split in two. Those who wanted me, and those who wanted me gone. Someone threw a rock through my kitchen window. I didn’t call the police.   I just swept up the glass and a neat little pile and kept the window open, letting the night air in. Following my desires made me feel shameless, and I was enjoying every minute of it. The realtor’s “For Sale” sign appeared in my yard in early fall. The town once again was buzzing. On my last night, I drove to the overlook above the town where I had previously entertained many of the local men. By morning, I was gone.

The men walked around quietly for a while. The wives busy themselves with bake sales and weekend tea parties. Life went on, but something in this little town had shifted. Following my desires had put a crack in the veneer that never quite sealed.

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