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 It was a momentary lapse in good judgment. I’d been on my honeymoon with BB–we enjoyed the sun and waves of the couples’ resort in Negril. We swam up to the cocktail bar and drank watered down cocktails and even copped feels under the water when we thought no one was looking. Then work called and my new husband was stuck in our suite for hours on end putting out a large fire at his laboratory. This left me alone and of course lonliness is never something that appeals to me. I must remain busy–active–with lots of attention cast upon me. I work at my looks for that very reason.

I’d noticed a couple who’d been fighting off and on at the other end of the pool bar. The wife had stormed off leaving the husband with his head in his hands. I decided to take this opportunity to do a good deed and perhaps get some much needed sexual attention. It wasn’t my fault that my husband had to work and I planned on enjoying the beaches of Negril.

His name was Ted and we had a great time sucking down those weak cocktails. We ended up taking a barefooted walk down a sandpath that wound through a grove of palm trees. At the end of the path the sand spilled out into a cabana that was made for lovers. We took advantage. We drank some more.

Before long there were more men in the cabana that I could count. I was lavished with the sexual attention that I was missing from my husband. Cocks of all sizes, shapes and nationalities creamed my hot cunt. And then I noticed that my new husband was standing in the clearing with a major erection. I couldn’t believe my luck. He wasn’t mad he was turned on and he walked over to help me finish off the group—“As long as I can clean up…” he cooed in my ear as I exploded over a large black cock.

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Masturbation phone sex CS’ cure for amnesia

Dr. CS came to see me once or twice per week to check my memory–to see if I had any certain recall of my identity. He assuaged my fears that I would never remember by tapping a pencil on the frames of his wire-rimmed glasses. I had insisted that I knew who I was, but Dr. CS insisted that I had conjured another identity for myself due to a trauma that would become known to me whenever I remember who I truly was. I consigned my fate to being interred forever in this asylum unless I accepted the identity that Dr. CS conferred upon me.

My days were mundane–filled with useless group therapy and sewing cards. I felt so juvenile–a grown woman consigned to preschool activities. I remained steadfast that I would not be broken. I knew who I was and that was that. Now I just needed to allow myself to feign believing in the doctor’s take on my identity. It wasn’t long before the nurse came for me again–she always gave me a pitying look. I often wondered if she would help me escape from the treatment that Dr. CS developed for amnesiacs–but alas I was mistaken. She would willingly take me to the waiting room where I would be stripped down and bathed. All vestiges of body hair would be shaven from my silken skin. Even my womanly hairs–the ones that covered my vulva and labia were removed. I would be ushered into his lair where he’d wait with his manhood in his hand. He would grope at my womanly mounds and insist that the injections of his seed would rattle the cages that bound my memory.

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