Hi, I'm Francy.

I am a slender blonde with green eyes. Without makeup I am somewhat plain Jane.

Over the years i helped a bit with nip tuck so now i’m a proud owner of cup size C, not really big at all but big improvement for me.

My husbands name is Mike.

We are a professional couple in our forties, who own a family business with around 30 employees, mostly built up from my husband's family.

Our business is the reason we don't have much free time since, even on free days, there is frequently something to be done for the company, and we have sometimes to travel separately to exhibitions and workshops and schoolings.

However my family wasn’t rich.

I didn't grow up struggling, to be clear. I grew up in a tiny apartment in a mixed neighborhood with a large proportion of middle eastern and african people.

Despite my parents were, I would say, just normal, vanilla and may be even prude, I discovered how to pleasure myself early in my puberty.

Masturbating felt incredible but somehow forbidden, so I was stopping every time before the climax. Then one day, instead of stopping, I continued till I had my first orgasm.

That was an amazing discovery and it became regular masturbating multiple time per day.

The teachers told my parents that I was often daydreaming in class, instead I was playing with my pencil under the table.

My favorite tools were the shower head and the water nozzle at the public swimming pool, where I had a lot of orgasms in the middle of other unsuspecting people.

While the first times I was busy with myself (can't remember it exactly obviously) I started quickly fantasizing about men, to be clear: not those guys in my age who were basically kids in my eyes, but older guys, bodybuilders, dark skinned thugs or some stars from tv, teenage or gossip magazines.

Let's not forget the fact that the internet was in the fledgling stage and porn wasn’t easily available in that times.

I really still don't know where it comes from at the beginning: it’s like since I was teenager that I liked the black US rappers, their music and their clothes (baggy pants, underpants in sight, a tank top and all that muscles and tattoos)

I was watching them on MTV (the golden age of MTV and VIVA and other music channels), looking at their groupies and slutty looking girls in their videos wearing expensive sexy clothes and high heels: I envied them.

During my puberty my role models were those girls, so that I started to dress like them and my style was somewhat tight, a lot of skin, short and shiny, but because I had no money it was very hard to get the result I was looking for.

Of course there were a lot of „ghetto“ stuff going on in my neighborhood but I used to hang out with the guys anyways when my puberty begun, because that was the environment in which I grow up.

I was the bunny of the crew and yes, we had the first flirts and experiences together and later I was often the last girl at parties, and you know what that means.

I had a lot of relationships, and i mean A LOT, I was the blonde white ho of the gang, the easy and fun girl who don't spit but swallows.

At one party in particular, I was drunk and somebody obviously drugged me, so some guys I didn’t even know took turns on me.

I have only hazy memories about that.

I passed out and my dad had to take me home, because there was no way to wake me up and even if I was dressed and smelled like a whore my parents said nothing about that and till today they pretend that it never happened.

I was perversely proud of that experience, somehow.

At the end that was a kinda fun and untroubled time of my life.

I had a mature lover when I was almost 18, he was around 50 years old and therefore more than twice as old than myself.

I was trying to hook up his son that was in my class, but the guy was dull, shy or not interested or didn’t get the hint.

At a garden party at his house, I was dressed to impress for sure, so his dad eyed me and didn’t leave my side the whole evening, even secretly massaging my ankles and thighs under the table, I was leaking wet.

Because of a short downpour, in a dark corner of the porch, he didn't miss the chance and started caressing my neck with the excuse to dry my hair.

I decided that i wanted him.

Then one thing led to an other.

Was he lucky?

Yes and no: he owned me a short period of time, but he payed a lot, not only in hotel rooms, gifts and restaurants but at the end in terms of his marriage too.

I was his toy, he molded me as he pleased him and taught me a lot dirty things, how a mans mind work and made me a lot of gifts for our clandestine hours, like slutty fuck me shoes, boots and very sexy clothes (even expensive brands) which I was not be able to purchase by myself.

My mature lover liked me best dressed like a sexy schoolgirl with pigtails, streetwalker boots and tartan skirt, the classic commonplace.

And I was happy because i had a lot of new sexy clothes to wear.

Even some of his friends asked me out because he couldn't keep his mouth shut and had to brag about his romance with me.

So I learned how to charm the pants off guys.

Sad was that at some point his son asked me out, while I had that affair with his father, so I had to snub him.

When the whole thing then came to light, his son told everyone in the neighborhood about me, so I was labeled officially as a slut, but luckily it sorted well because there were no social media and it coincided with the end of the school and the beginning of the university.

I opted for a college far away from home.

During the first time at university I had a lot of short time relationships, some overlapping, and many one night stands, most have no idea what my name was and I didn’t care much either.

I had sex while other guys watched me, in cars or in alleys outside nightclubs, had threesomes on different occasions, had sex with guys on nudist beaches.

I did a lot of kinky things in that period, including for accepting money for sex.

During the first years on the campus, my libido was insatiable, I was almost constantly horny and permanently thinking and looking for sex.

Friends who were concerned about my obvious nymphomaniac nature in some way tried to talk me out and somehow stop me to prevent me to regret my actions.

Of course that way of life was not that good for my grades, in fact it was really bad.

That only became better at the end of the university, because I had to invest time and learn stuff,  I was fed up for a certain period and found a certain inner peace so that I was more relaxed.

With my master’s degree in my pocket (yes, I was very successful at the end) I roamed around, changed a few cities, made more friends, even visited some sex clubs and after a few other jobs I started to work in the accounting for senior in our actual company.

My boss was guarding me like gold, so I was often following him at trade fairs and sales appointments.

I tried to stay out of trouble in the company because I liked it very much there, so I didn’t date anybody from the job, even if I had quite a lot of occasions, still I was very adventurous in my private life.

After a few years of untroubled work , one day this guy appeared, almost 10 years older than myself, handsome, fit but not that tall (in fact I tower him in my highest high heel shoes): my future husband.

I remember (and he does too) that I wore a simple leather skirt that day and he said some joke to break the ice.

I didn’t take him seriously and kinda ignored him.

He was appearing more and more often in the company later in that period.

Afterwards I discovered that he was funny and charming AND the son of the owner: I felt really embarrassed about my first reaction but it looked as he didn’t bear a grudge.

After a few months of casual appearances he started working regularly in the company.

I got to know him better, we became closer and as I saw that he was very keen on my leather skirts, I started wearing leather pants and skirts on regular basis, yes I was flirting with him, at first unconsciously then on purpose.

My flirt with him gave me not the best reputation in the company, labeling me as slut and careerist.

But I didn’t care, because I really liked him.

I was drawn to him and even if I never was a trustworthy girl (I did in fact very bad things to my partners), I tried to be right minded with him.

Long story short: we started dating, fell in love and ended married with kids.

From the very beginning we had great sex, imaginative and very vocal.

My hubby confessed pretty early his leather fetish to take me out possibly all leathered up, foretasting to fuck me in my dress.

I was happy to satisfy his needs, so I started wearing leather almost everyday and often wearing sexy leathers, slutty high heels, suspenders and nice whorish underwear at nights out and for his joy also in our bed.

I can't even remember when it was last time we had vanilla sex without wearing sexy leather stuff, high heel boots or shoes.

I admit that I feel sexy too, I like to to get all dolled up for sex, it makes me feel sexy, strong and secure about myself even if I’m a bit insecure and may be submissive.

Meanwhile I take a fancy to dress some leathers.

With the time, piece after piece, I told him about all the sexual things I did in my past and he was super turned on by my narrations.

Doe to this he developed more kinks, like to show me around daily in expensive leathers, stockings and killer stilettos, to observe men fancy and trying to get off with me, he liked me to look and act more slutty.

He even loved to see me leave the house in sexy or even better slutty attire for an evening with the girls or friends without him.

So sometimes I dress in that for the occasion a "bit" inappropriate way he likes, not only for the nights out, but for shopping and normal daily duties.

Even for work sometimes I dress in a full leather business suit for his joy and that of our employees too.

I kind of like to be paraded around by Mike.

He said that people have to look at me and think that I'm a dish.

Usually that led straight to sex in public places.

But there was never sex with other guys in the first years, secretly may be a few flirts and sexting, may be a few kisses, but nothing more.

While dirty talking we developed more fantasies, involving other guys having sex with me. That led every time to great sex so we discovered that we were more like minded than we thought. That turned me on big time. But those were bed fantasies, right?

Over the years he observed my yearn for black guys where I saw them, on the streets, at the gyms, at the parking lot of malls and supermarkets or at the pub.

I still hadn’t confess my weakness for blacks to anyone, not even to Mike.

And then, at a night out with friends in a fancy club hubby observed me, his faithful wife, chatting with a stranger, a big black guy named Quasim, I was tipsy more on the drunk side and openly publicly flirting with him, playing with my tongue piercing between my teeth and my lips, touching his chest and muscular arms while giggling and so on, I later even gave him a goodbye kiss after he gave me his number.

That all in disbelief of our friends that were present.

I was drunk, so what?

A few weeks later my husband made me a gift with strings attached: an anklet that he told me to wear on the right ankle.

I recognized a lot of tiny hearts around and a playing cards symbol, you guess it, a prominent spades pendant. It was fancy and very discreet, still it was a spades symbol with a little crown on it.

I wore that often, even at work, and didn’t know anything about the meaning, I thought it was cute and sexy, but I noticed a more aggressive advances, even physical, from many men.

I learned about this symbolics only later.

One evening was like the spark that ignited a cascade of events, even if it was already boiling in the underground.

Mike and myself were at a club, for him I was all dolled up in borderline whorish skintight leather.

After a while dancing with my husband, I started flirting and dancing with other guys and some darker skinned men, accepting drinks from them.

That made me and Mike so horny that in a relatively dark corner, we were sitting on an alcove like bench, I laid my leather jacket on the lap of my husband because I wanted to give him a discreet hand job while fingering me, we didn't care about the people nearby.

He was so excited that I barely touched him (I swear) but made him cum in my leather jacket in no time.

Then I continued to wear that jacket, dancing and drinking with the other guys during all the evening, while it was a bit damp of his cum.

Later we then had sex in the parking lot.

That night hubby suggested that my free sex pass could be, that I could make whatever I want with literally anyone, but only when dressed fully in leather and wearing stiletto fuck me shoes:

we called it "my leather freedom".

That was the beginning of a new part of our relationship.

I gave free my promiscuous side step by step and Mike is encouraging me to keep up, so I used my leather freedom frequently in our marriage.

A weakness for black muscular guys still remain till today.

I had some black lovers, but it's not only for the dimension of their cocks that i like them (my husband has a quite good one) it's about the overall package:

black, handsome, muscular, tall, good dancer, fun and nice style or being even a big bad thug, that may lead direct into my bedsheets.