Everything for the children

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

I've been working in Japan for a long time, and I often go out drinking with colleagues on weekends.

Once, while drinking with a colleague, I saw one of his classmates (a woman, around 40 years old), and we drank and chatted together.

This classmate couldn't hold her liquor and quickly got drunk. Since we were going the same way home, we walked together, and during the walk, she revealed a secret she was hiding.

She spoke haltingly, and I'm recounting her story from her perspective.

Now, thinking back, I really don't know why I did something so foolish, and I deeply regret it.

Two years ago, I gave myself to someone other than my husband.

My son started playing volleyball in elementary school, and in middle school, he was a key player in his school, achieving third place in the prefectural tournament in his third year. He also got into a well-known volleyball school near our home.

As a mother, seeing my child practice so hard, I wanted to help him. But seeing him come home exhausted every day always worried me.

Once, I had some time and went to watch my son play a match. He wasn't wearing a team uniform; he was just a cheerleader. It's understandable; at a well-known volleyball school, there are many students like him.

A year later, my child came home excitedly, telling me he'd received his team uniform. I was happy too.

But on the day of the match, there were many spectators. My child was already practicing on the field, but his smile seemed a little downcast. After the match started, I learned why he was unhappy. Although he was wearing the uniform, he was just a substitute and hadn't had a single chance to play.

I could see the other children were very good, but I felt my child wasn't much worse. So I decided to wait for my child's coach at the parking lot and talk to him.

The coach was in his fifties and balding. The way he looked at me made me feel uncomfortable, but for my child's sake, I endured it and begged him to let my child play.

The coach said he was a little tired and gave me his address, telling me to visit him another day.

A few days later, one morning, I went to the coach's house. He lived in the suburbs and was self-employed. Because he was single, he seemed quite wealthy.

When I mentioned my child to him,

the coach said, "Your child's skill level is actually about the same as the other children's. Getting him to play next time shouldn't be a problem. It all depends on you, the mother."

"Really! What do you need me to do?" I was overjoyed.

The coach sat down next to me, touched my leg, and said, "As long as you can be patient this once, it's not a problem."

"I'll do whatever you say, as long as my child can play." To make my child happy, I made an irreversible decision.

The coach pulled down his pants, revealing his penis—the second penis I'd ever seen besides my husband's, and it was so big. I obeyed him and took it into my mouth.

Then, the coach penetrated my vagina in the missionary position and ejaculated into my mouth.

"Swallow it," the coach said. It was the first time in my life I tasted semen.

The coach then said, "Swear to be my sex slave from today onwards." After hearing this, I said, "I swear to be your sex slave."

From that day on, the coach would call me every day, asking me to come to his house, his studio, and sometimes to the gym's storage room for his "training. "

Sometimes, he would penetrate me while my child was contacting him.

Thanks to my efforts, my child gradually got more opportunities to perform. I also saw a smile on his face that I hadn't seen for years.

To keep that smile, I repeatedly groveled before him.

During the day, at home, I would call the coach over, kneeling before his door to beg him until my child came home from school in the afternoon to receive his "training."

In the gymnasium, the coach would sit at a large table, and I would hide under the table to give him oral sex. The coach would call over the players one by one to give them instructions. Although he couldn't see me, he ejaculated in my mouth while my child was being instructed, and I could only swallow the semen.

Every month, the coach would come to my house in the evening to have dinner with my husband, mostly when my child wasn't home. The coach would ask me to put sleeping pills in my husband's drink. After he was drugged, he would rape me at home all night. After

being the coach's sex slave for about a year, I had completely become his pet.

My 40-year-old husband and I rarely had sexual contact anymore, but the coach would always satisfy me, making it impossible for me to leave him.

Last month, after my child's last competition, he was preparing for the college entrance examination. My relationship with my coach can end. But I feel no joy. Having been trained by him, I can't bear to be apart from him for even a day.

Wanting to see the children smile is just a pretense; my true desires have always been in control.

Now, at 41, my body still doesn't obey my brain, and today I'm on my way to my coach's house again.

[The End]

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Everything for the children

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