# How I Lost My Shame and Discovered Pleasure - Fonte: https://paginasproibidas.com.br/en/conto/como-perdi-a-vergonha-e-descobri-o-prazer - Autoria: Redação - Publicado em: 2026-08-18 - Idioma: en - Tema: Betrayal - Tags: Orgy, Swing - Nota: 0.0/5 (0 avaliações) - Palavras: 1574 - Classificação: adulto (18+), ficção _A passionate woman, after making a mistake that nearly destroys her relationship, wins back the love of her life and discovers, together, a world of forbidden pleasures. Between lies, lust, and the courage to live without shame, she becomes the star of unforgettable nights—where desire, complicity, and freedom intertwine. A true story about love, forgiveness, and the art of losing inhibitions._ --- This isn’t a story. It’s the real account of my sexual life—intense, full of mistakes, passions, and discoveries. My name isn’t Beni (but it’s similar), and the names of everyone involved have been changed to protect their identities. I live near Campinas, but today I have friends and confidants from São Paulo to Sorocaba, and even in other states. My life changed when I met my husband—love at first sight, the kind that burns the soul. I lost my virginity to him. Two years later, after a terrible fight, I made a mistake: I slept with my cousin. It wasn’t just once. It was ten times, including one with him and a friend. When we got back together, I didn’t tell him the truth. But in a small town, secrets don’t last. Armando found out. And what followed was an earthquake. He was devastated. To hurt me, he went out with my sister—who had always had a crush on him. I deserved it. For the first time, I understood the pain I had caused. I spent months trying to win him back: phone calls, letters, emails, messages. Nothing worked. When I found out he had moved to São Paulo, I followed him. I even spent a night outside his apartment building. I moved in with an aunt and started working at a perfume store in a mall. But fate had other plans. One day, he walked into the store. I was facing the other way when I heard a voice ask for Egoist Platinum by Chanel—his favorite perfume. My heart raced. I turned slowly, and there he was, more handsome than ever. I tapped his shoulder. When he recognized me, his eyes widened. Without thinking, I kissed him. The manager, who knew the whole story, urged me: "Go after him! Tell him how much you love him!" I ran. I caught up to him near the exit. I begged. He tried to push me away, but eventually gave in. We talked on the sidewalk, away from the crowd. I cried. I told him I loved him more than anything, that I had been used, that I would never lie again. He asked if I wanted to go to a hotel. When I said yes, he replied, "Not now. I need to think." He gave me a new phone number and left with a quick but intense kiss. In that moment, I knew he still loved me. On the second day, he called. "Do you want to spend the weekend with me at a luxury hotel?" I accepted immediately. My coworkers supported me but warned: "Don’t lie again. This man is marriage material." I arrived early, dressed up, nervous. He showed up fifteen minutes later—fifteen eternities. We went up to the room, and the conversation lasted for hours. We ordered lunch in the room. Between sips of a delicious Minho wine, we cleared up almost everything. After dessert, the mood shifted. He told me, in every detail, what had happened with my sister. Three times. She had tried to get pregnant. She did everything—even anal sex, something I had never tried. Instead of jealousy, I felt lust. A lot of lust. And when it was my turn, I didn’t hold back. I told him everything: how my cousin had used me, how it had been to sleep with two men at once. How, despite everything, I had loved it. He listened, his eyes darkening with desire. And then, finally, we gave in. It was the best sex of our lives. We kept going until we ran out of condoms. We didn’t do anal—I had always found it painful and unhygienic. But what mattered most wasn’t the sex itself, but the door that opened between us: complicity, loyalty, freedom. The promise that, from then on, there would be no more lies. "No matter how bad it is, the truth is always better," he said. We left the hotel practically engaged. But something still bothered us: the image of him with my sister, of me with my cousin and his friend. How could we erase that? Ten days later, he asked me an unexpected question: "How did you have the courage to sleep with two men at once?" I confessed: "I wanted to know what it was like." Then he surprised me: "I’ve never been with two women. If you make that happen for me, you’ll be my official fiancée. And there’s more: after that, I want to watch you with another man in front of me. A couple. That way, we’ll see if we can control our jealousy. Then, yes, we’ll get married." I protested—but inside, desire was already consuming me. I accepted. What I thought would be difficult was easy. A female coworker and a male friend of his formed the threesome. When he returned and told me every detail, we had sex in the car, in the garage, with a passion we hadn’t felt in months. The Night That Changed Everything The weekend arrived. We researched swing clubs, visited three before choosing one. We learned the rules: respect, consent, freedom. At night, I dressed to kill: a miniskirt, a tiny thong, a transparent bra, and a low-cut blouse. When we arrived, the place was alive. Dim lights, sensual music, bodies moving. First, we watched a show. Then, we explored. There was a room with a window where three couples were having sex. In another, a dark labyrinth lit only by strobe lights. We entered holding hands. Unknown hands caressed my ass, my breasts. A kiss on the neck. When the light flashed, I saw a couple. My fiancé had disappeared. The man pulled me close, placed my hand on his cock. I stroked him. He turned me around, lifted my skirt, and positioned the head of his cock at my entrance. I was about to give in when I saw Armando looking for me. I went to him, but on the way, I was groped by several men. We went to a private room. I told him what had happened. We had sex. Then, we returned to the communal room. A young couple sat next to us. Somehow, I ended up on the man’s lap, kissing him. He lifted my blouse, sucked my breasts. I looked at Armando—he was kissing the other man’s wife, touching her pussy. I lowered myself to the man’s cock, hard and ready. I started sucking. He had a huge head, like a pacifier. I did my best. He almost came in my mouth. His wife pulled me off him and took my place. I kissed Armando, even with the taste of another man in my mouth. He didn’t notice—or pretended not to. We left that room, but not the desire. In another area, a beautiful couple approached us. "Full swap?" they proposed. Armando agreed immediately. I was almost naked, just in my miniskirt. I called over an older, elegant man who was alone. I sat him on the couch, took off his pants, and started sucking his cock while the other man undressed me and sucked my breasts. I saw Armando and the other man’s wife caressing each other, watching us. I asked for two condoms. I put one on the older man—his cock was huge, beautiful, fragrant. I sat on him facing forward, feeling every inch fill me. The other tried anal, but I refused. I got on all fours while the older man fucked me and I sucked the other. When I looked, Armando and the woman were already having sex. The older man came inside me, the condom full of cum. We switched partners. The other man penetrated me while I sucked the older one. I came loudly, along with the other man’s wife. At the end, we exchanged contacts. I kissed Armando deeply. He didn’t even remember he had sucked other men. When I asked if we could get married now, he said yes. But then he remembered the blowjobs and went to rinse his mouth. While I was getting dressed, a man approached: "I wish I had been one of those two. You were amazing." Armando heard. He got angry. But I didn’t care. On the way out, I confessed I was turned on by that man. Armando surprised me: "If he’s still here, would you invite him?" Of course. We found the man in the gang bang room, watching a woman with four men. I went up to him, gave him a little kiss, and said: "Proposal accepted." We went to a private room. Him and two other men. I sucked all three, one after the other. The first came in me in ten minutes. The second, in thirty-one—yes, I timed it. Armando watched everything. In the end, the man tried anal. I let him. But after eight centimeters, the pain was too much. I couldn’t go through with it. What I Learned These stories are real. We lived many other nights like this, in swing clubs and private parties. But one thing is certain: swing isn’t for every couple. It’s for those who have loyalty, affinity, complicity, and trust. Toxic jealousy has no place here. If you’re curious, go with someone you love. And, above all, be honest. The truth, no matter how hard, is always the best path. Soon, I’ll share more stories—mine and those of friends who allowed me to tell theirs. Until then, have fun. With lots of lust.