How a Tragic Accident turned me into a Whore [MF]

+ Hi all. I previously posted this in another SubReddit, but I thought I would share it with you today.
+ TLDR summary below.
+ Picture link below.

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**Background:**

My husband and I were supposed to have the perfect life together. We had met through a mutual friend, and quickly fell madly in love with one another. We understood and trusted each other completely. It sounds cheesy, but we were best friends and soulmates. He loved basketball and got me to play some hoops. We eventually got engaged, and then married. Our wedding was so beautiful, our family and friends were all gathered to celebrate what was supposed to be a lasting marriage.

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Then the accident happened, and everything fell apart after that. It was only a few weeks after our honeymoon and we were at his work sponsored event. Through a combination of his company’s negligence, mistakes, and poor judgement my husband was tragically killed in an accident. It was a shock for everybody at the event and company, and could have easily been prevented with better choices. Needless to say, I was devastated. Only after a month after getting married, I had to bury him, saying goodbye to my soulmate and our lives together.
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**Aftermath:**

In the aftermath of his death, I was a complete mess. I was depressed, confused, grieving, angry, scared. There were days where I couldn’t get out of bed, nights where I just cried myself to sleep. I had to quit my job. There were some dark days for me. My husband’s company, for fear of being at fault, offered me a settlement to wipe their hands clean. After I settled with them, I needed to escape, to runaway from the pain. So I sold what I could, and just moved to a new city. I needed to start over, a new beginning.
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Before I met my husband, I had a vanilla sex life. I’ll admit, that I was sexual plain jane. A prude. My husband, on the other hand, was so sexually adventurous. Liberal, open minded, not jealous. Throughout our relationship, he supported me, gave me confidence to be sexier, sluttier. Dresses got tighter, skirts shorter, attitudes changed. He shared his ultimate kink was for us to be a swinging married couple. There were hardly any limits with him. He wanted to share me with another man, and I share him with another woman. Honestly, it was kinky as fuck, and something I was excited to do together. I wanted to do this, I knew this would make him so happy and proud.
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*****

**The night I became a Whore:**

After I moved, I’m still depressed. One night, I’m sitting alone at this hotel bar trying to find solace in a glass of wine. I’m still wearing my wedding ring – I don’t know, I’m still denying everything, I’m still not letting go. Like I said, I’m depressed.
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I’m two glasses in, when this guy approaches me. A business traveler, he’s older, tall, very handsome. Let’s call him George after George Clooney’s movie “Up in the Air”. Anyways, I’m slightly tipsy, and he’s charming enough, so I invite him over, mainly because I didn’t want to be alone again.
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We start chatting, you know, normal bar conversation. George notices my ring, and asks about my husband. Honestly, I didn’t feel like telling my sob story again, so I just lied…. I lied and roleplayed that my husband was still alive, and made up some BS story on why he’s not with me tonight. George doesn’t know any better… and just goes with the flow. And you know what? That made me feel really good – almost feeling normal again. In some sick twisted way, my mind found comfort in this roleplay that my husband was still alive, that he was with me. Pretending that nothing happened. For the first time in a long time, in my crazy mind, I wasn’t alone.
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Our chat and roleplay continued, flowing naturally. Our conversation turned sexual in topic, as there is definitely some sexual chemistry between us. George wasn’t intimated by my ‘marriage’, seemingly taking it on as a challenge. Maybe it was the wine, but things are heating up and while still roleplaying, I revealed that my husband and I were a swinging couple. That my husband encourages me to sleep with other men.
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That’s when George puts his hand on my thigh and says, which I’ll never forget: *”Well, why don’t we go upstairs, and make your husband happy?”* In that moment, something so weird and perverse clicked in my mind. Maybe if I say yes, it *would* make my husband happy. Maybe if I say yes, I could be the wife that *he wanted me to be.* Maybe if I say yes, I can be *with him again* and my pain would magically go away. Crazy I know, I’m a complete mess.
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Back at the bar, things were moving fast, and I needed to slow things down. I didn’t want to embarrass myself and confess my sob story, so in my haste, I blurted out: *”$500″*. I thought maybe he would be turned off? Or insulted? Or I don’t know really, I was nervous…. But George accepted my offer, offered his hand, and said *”Let’s go, let’s make your husband proud”*. Maybe I didn’t want to be alone again, or I felt too embarrassed to confess, or I just wanted to continue my perverse roleplay… But that’s was all I needed to hear, and I took his hand and went upstairs with him.
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I haven’t been touched by a man, in a very long time. But George was fantastic. He unknowingly kept on reinforcing my roleplay that was going in my mind. He was saying things like: *”Your husband would be proud.”* or *”You love your husband, don’t you?”* or *”You’re doing this for him.”* Throughout the night, I was rationalizing that if I did this, somehow my husband would come back to me. Honestly, it felt so safe to have a man love me, to be on top of me, to be inside of me. Fuck, I even imagined that George was my husband himself. In my sick mind, if I pleased George and was slutty enough, then maybe I wouldn’t be alone again. So that night, George fucked me senseless, and I was finally able to escape.
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The next morning, George paid me, and I left his room. My roleplay was over, and I’m feeling ashamed and empty. Again, I’m feeling alone and depressed again. I used some retail therapy shopping to try to get over it. So I spent my whore money on a pair of heels, something my husband would have picked out for me. It didn’t work, and I’m crashing hard from last night’s solace.
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Later that night, I call George. Being the weak, vulnerable woman that I am, I ask if we can get together again before he leaves town. I needed to escape again. So that night, I met George at his room, wearing my whore heels for him. We continue my roleplay, and George doesn’t know any better. Honestly, that night, I got my brains fucked out. It was incredible. That night, I almost forgot the pain, and I only had to think about being a slut. It was such a relief, a burden unloaded, the grief taken away from me. The next morning, I left the hotel with another $500. Honestly, George was the right guy, in the right place, at the right time, saying all the right things.
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**Now:**

Fast forward to today and I’m coping a little better. I have my good days and my bad days. But honestly, I still escape and roleplay my fantasy. I’ll dress slutty, like my husband would have wanted, and go to a bar to get picked up. I’ll wear my ring and use the same swinging setup story, hoping the guy plays along, like George did. Sometimes I’ll ask for money, sometimes I won’t.

I know my husband isn’t coming back. But when I whore, I roleplay my husband coming back, loving me again. I’m doing what he wanted me to do. When I whore, I hope to be free of this grief. Maybe, if I get my brains fucked out, then maybe I can find that solace that eludes me.
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**TLDR Summary:**

+ Found the perfect man, fell in love, got married, lost him in a tragic accident. Moved to run away from the pain, became depressed.
+ Random guy picks me up. I lie and say I’m a married swinger to avoid my sob story. I get fucked while roleplaying my husband is still alive. I irrationally hope he’ll approve or magically come back to me.
+ I roleplay to find relief from my grief. I secretly hope to get my brains fucked out so I can just escape for a night.

*****

+ Don’t make this a pity party: You can only hear *”Hang in there”* or *”I’m sorry for your loss”*, so many times.
+ Don’t be the righteous moral police: Yes, I know I’m crazy and irrational. I already have a mother, and you’re not her.
+ [Picture](https://imgur.com/a/i3JhyIr) attached is one of our last pictures taken together. Reddit works on pictures, I get it.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/bie0ly/how_a_tragic_accident_turned_me_into_a_whore_mf