This may come as a little shocking for some who have followed me over all these years. But when I thoutht the journey I started with my husband some years ago would come to an end with me and my lover living together, I discovered it can't be stopped. After my black boyfriend discovered my lifestyle past and my moresome experiences he realized we were very different at the moral level. After that, I continued my self-discovery and enjoying sex for all the time I have missed it in my life before. The promiscuity from my previous meetings with different black men in the early, rather innocent times, those my husband knew and didn't know of, and the ways I and those men conducted ourselves, seem to me now civilized. It's not like men are now disrespectful to me. But when one morning I woke up in the hotel inbetween two naked men on my bed, my skin covered in sticky bodily fluids, and my mouth tasting like cum and alcohol, I knew I hadn't experienced all things about sex. Those men had undoubtedly had sex with me when I ******* during the long night sex party, or I was so ******* I couldn't remember them at all. They were hotel staff. Soon the bartender proposed to me some business: to carry on with my adventures and to earn some money at the same time. I had done something like that for one 'bull' before and with black clients. But this time it is about making onlookers happy. Call them voyeurs, cucks, or whatever - people ready to pay well for a good show. With or without happy end. I could keep the black guys I met there as partners and share the money. Once a week or when I want I work as an *******, have a nice outing, and a lot of sex with my men. What I learnt is that sex is now rougher - the men are slowly loosing their inhibition and one guy quit because he was lately feeling under to much pressure to deliver - and I have less control over the events, can't wash myself as often as before, squirt over the guys, they pull my hair, I get covered in everybody's sweat, and often it ends like a bukkake party with them and the white guy shooting cum all over my face, hair, boobs, or butt.
Next day, the flight home is quite uncomfortable and some months ago I suffered a vaginal tear. And when I look into my mirror I find small bruises everywhere. I look like a raped woman. But this is exactly that: a whore's life. It feels again like a milestone in my new sexual life. But something tells me is not the last one. Do I regret it? Do I feel ashamed? A simple answer: No. I still love getting well fucked by men with a thick black cock, and I dream of those meets almost every night.