Slut Wife - Is Barb a Bad Bitch?

It was about another month before she saw Grant again. There was no mention of the night with Paul and he was genuinely pleased to be near her. The ties had been cut and she had established herself as a brazenly sexual woman. Now that she was in the driver's seat she allowed him to be one of the men she dated periodically. Maybe she was being unwise but she was done worrying about the actions of men. She fucked him anyway. If things got out of hand she would straighten him out just like she had already done once.

It was another two months before she got a glimpse of why he had stayed that night. Grant was coming over to help her with a house repair at noon on a saturday. She had been out with Travis the night before and almost forgot about the arrangement. The taxi that took her from Travis's hotel dropped her off just after noon.

What most women consider the walk of shame was something Barb had come to relish - walking up her driveway, obviously wearing clothes from the night before. Clothes that were designed to attract sexual attention. Panties stuffed in her purse (or left behind with her lover) and maybe one or more neighbour seeing her in her sexually permissive glory. She strolled with the gait of a women who knows she is sexy.

She only saw Grant as she got close to the door. He was waiting for her with a latte in his hand. She smiled, gave him a peck on the cheek and unlocked the door before thanking him for the latte. She didn't know if he had waited long and didn't ask or apologize for the possibility. After all she was more or less on time.

Once inside Barb sat on the couch and leaned back. These days Grant took that as a possibility that she wanted her pussy licked. He put his own coffee down and knelt in front of her. She had never had him lick her after another man had been inside her. Barb paused for a moment then slowly opened her legs at the same time informing him. "Travis was just inside me Grant. I haven't had a chance to clean myself up yet." It was statement without any indication of what she expected him to do. Her body language made it clear she was willing to let him lick her used pussy, but not whether she expected it. And she used her lover's name. He was a real sex partner not just a prop. If Grant licked up her sloppy seconds, in a way he would be submitting to them both.

He barely hesitated before gently pushing her legs further apart and kissing up the inside of her thighs to her pussy. She smelled of sex and shared bodily fluids though there was no visible cum. Her labia was still slightly engorged either from the sex or the excitement of the moment. Barb pulled his head into her pussy and he eagerly licked her clean.

Barb had already learned a lot about men in a short period. However, this was new and she was surprised to find that the man she thought she knew so well was such an eager connoisseur of sloppy seconds. Grant took on many new dimensions in the ensuing months. Two months later she served him his first cream pie. When he peeled her sticky panties off of her cum filled pussy he did not hesitate anymore than the first time he licked her after Travis had been inside her.

By the time of his third feeding Grant was eagerly submissive. Barb picked up this vibe and started being moderately dominant. Or perhaps more authoritative is a better word. She didn't take on a new role with Grant, but from that point onward she told him what she wanted in and out of the bedroom rather than asking. She adopted a tone that was not quite imperious but clearly communicated that she knew he would follow her directions and expected no less. Grant ate it up both figuratively and literally.

A year later he moved into an apartment just down the street. They were not a couple again. Both were free to date and Barb insisted he do so. Fascinated as she was with his kinks she didn't want him waiting and pining for her. As with all her lovers she felt she owed him only the truth. When she didn't have other men in her bed she preferred to be alone. Sometimes she and Grant went on dates together, but more often he was there when she came home from her dates with other men.

She never demanded or expected Grant to be at her beckon call. It was Grant who made sure he was always available for her. So if she wanted him to greet her after her date she simply let him know of her plans. He liked it when she set the rules and agenda. It was easier and clearer for everyone that way. The more in control she was the more horny it made him. Yes, he was hoping for some kind of reconciliation but he knew they would never be monogamous again, and he didn't really seem to want that.

Somewhere along the way Barb started wearing her wedding ring again. She was after all still legally married and she had come to regard Grant as being a regular part of her life again. Plus it made her feel naught as hell when she was fucking other guys.

...

Such a strange trip thought Barb as she finished her shower and strode naked to the mirrors to inspect herself before dressing for her date with Travis.

Grant had a date that night too, but she knew he would be waiting for her when she came home the next morning. In many ways her date wasn't over until Grant licked her clean and she looked forward to that as much as any other part of the date.

Barb had settled into a routine with the ten or so men she dated regularly. They kept her busy so she had limited time for new men, which was safer anyway. Grant knew many of her lovers by name and had met many of them.

Travis had been one of Barb's first lovers and they knew each other intimately. He had made a couple hundred million dollars when he sold his tech company a couple years before they met (he still worked for the buyer a a senior executive which was part of the deal). It put him the category of men who never had to worry about money again. But in his industry it wasn't such a big deal so he managed to maintain a low profile.

There was a fundamental honesty about Travis. In Barb's view he was a playboy but not a player. He enjoyed women, especially the ones that knew what they wanted even if it wasn't sex. Of course when he wanted to party he hung out with the women who did want sex (or were willing to sell it) but he had no interest in conquest or manipulation. He was a lovable rake, better than average looking with a nice fat cock and fatter wallet.

Barb knew he had one or more women in every city he visited and the last thing he wanted was for them to get too clingy. She was his slut in Chicago (or one of them) and nothing more. Where he couldn't find a free spirited slut like Barb he paid for escorts.

Such was their relationship that she knew all of this from him. In fact, she had met many of his other women at various events and parties.

Contrary to stereotypes one could not easily identify the escorts. These were not streetwalkers but $2,500+/night companions that were beautiful, intelligent and sought after. They were not under duress and perfectly capable of making a living by other means. They chose this life because it was more lucrative than the alternatives and they got access to a fun social group and endless perks.

And these women were paid for more than sex. They were paid for how they treated a man. Most of their clients were men they had selected as repeat customers and most of the interactions were more like dates. Yes the sex would ensue but unlike a common whore they couldn't simply lie back and spread their legs. In fact, the only way she could tell between the escorts and other women were from conversation or subtle clues.

One such lady which Barb counted as a friend summed it up nicely. "Travis doesn't need to pay me for sex. He can have any number of women for free or a lot less money. He pays me for the way I treat him. My job forces me to see men honestly, and without filters. Their wives and girlfriends and society don't fully accept their desires...not just sex but the desire to be with a woman who makes him feel a certain way. Society tells him his urges are dirty and narrows down the range of acknowledged desire to the only that which is deemed acceptable. Then the women in his life offer something less than that, ever concerned about being judged by their peers or deemed too subservient to a male. Travis has never treated me with disrespect or as though being a sexual woman makes me lesser. For instance, I know he likes to see me in a bikini with heels. But he doesn't treat me like a bimbo unless you think that is inherent in liking that outfit. But guess what? All men, or at least most, like it. And demonizing it or making your man deny it won't change a thing. If anything Travis is appreciative of me indulging him. So I wear what he likes which is overtly sexual but within my acceptable range of situation appropriate. I give him my undivided attention. I make sure he can smell my hair. I wear the perfume he likes. I take opportunities to brush my body against his. I express desire to have sex with him rather than waiting to do my duty. And I never ever treat him in a dismissive manner or take my attention away from him because I am trying to impress someone else. All I do is take the time to really know what he wants and I give it to him."

Barb had taken note of what this friend said early in her relationship with Travis. If she found that what a man really wanted wasn't something she was prepared to do she ended things quickly and neatly. And if they were on the same page she gave generously of herself based upon as honest as possible an understanding of his desires. Not the accepted wisdom of what all men want, not what the soccer moms deemed was acceptable but what he really wanted. And she was richly rewarded for her attentions.

Barb knew that Travis enjoyed it when she looked feminine and sexual. He never expected anything in particular and he wasn't the kind of man who wanted her to show up at a nice restaurant looking like a $2 whore. But he sure liked it when she was at the sexier end of sexy in the circumstance. Whenever they went out she subtly figured out what that circumstance would be and tried her best to surprise him.

On this night they were going to a very good but not exceptionally formal restaurant. She wore a red dress that gathered in the centre then criss-crossed up and over where it covered her breasts. The pattern left a deep 'V' in the front and back exposing ample cleavage and skin. The material was just loose enough to flow but it had a clingy quality that emphasized each part of her curvy figure as she walked. It was on the borderline whether she could get away with not wearing a bra, but she didn't like the way the fabric fell over even her laciest and most delicate bras and the cleavage opening was deep enough that the front of the bra would be visible. So she chose to go without. Her full breasts would jiggle and sway as she walked and her nipples might be visible so she decided on no nipple studs (Travis normally likes them). Her heels were 4" matching red patent leather pumps and she wore her brightest red lipstick. She almost forgot to shimy into her tiny red g-string before sauntering out of the dressing room.

Barb knew she could carry off an outfit like this. She knew it would be within the range of suitable for where she was going. She knew Travis would like and appreciate it. And she knew that some people would judge her slutty and those people could go fuck themselves.

As she hopped into a cab it occurred to Barb that she looked like an escort. She had never been paid for her company or sex but many men bought her things and treated her like a goddess. And only a short time ago she had demanded a raise out of proportion with her skills. She did so knowing she would likely get it because of what she offered those men. Perhaps she was becoming like those escorts. Yes a whore but also so much more. She smiled to herself knowing she could be an escort because of what she had to offer that men craved. She saw it more clearly now without any moral dilemma about spreading her legs - yes she gave her sex but only to the men she wanted.

Barb had timed her departure to get to the restaurant just ahead of Travis. But as is frequently the case he got there first. He had seated himself at the bar with a good view of the entrance because he liked to see her come in. His eager anticipation was rewarded when she walked through the door. A lot of heads turned but his eyes were locked on her from the outset and all he saw was her - gloriously sexy with a smile just for him.

Travis squirmed to hide his growing hard-on as she strode across the floor to him. She made sure her tits jiggled a bit and felt the strain against her dress. She felt the hem of her dress ride up just a bit on her half bare thighs. And when she got to him she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a long deep kiss. The kind of embrace that tells a man that she will be his for the night and she didn't care what anybody thought about it. Barb lingered there on his arm until he swallowed the last of his drink and the maitre'd came to show them to their table. He knew Travis and had seen her walk in (just like everyone else in the place) so the wait was only a moment.

Barb and Travis sat down for a delicious dinner. He struggled to come up with the right compliment for how intoxicating she was to him. 'Beautiful' just wasn't good enough but it was all he could think of that didn't sound too lascivious. He felt awkward only for a moment because he knew he didn't have to come up with the perfect compliment for Barb. His desire for her was in his eyes.

"So how did it go with Stephanie today?" Asked Travis knowing Barb had gotten into some hot water.

"Hmmm. Well she is a little upset but it will work itself out."

"I think the fact that you finished me off while she stood in the doorway made her extra angry."

Barb laughed heartily. "Yes that probably didn't help." Both knew that he was referring to the fact that after Stephanie barged in on them Barb didn't stop sucking his dick. It was too late at that point anyway and if she had stopped Travis probably would have shot his thick load of cum onto her face and blouse. But truth be told Barb had stayed there, ignoring Stephanie and coaxing Travis's cock to shoot his load into her hungry mouth because she wanted to taste him and got to irritate Stephanie at the same time. The experience and the image was something that would stay with him forever.

"Well I sure enjoyed it Barb."

"Thanks lover. You were looking a little down so I thought maybe you needed a pick me up."

"It did the trick alright. Yes, things have been busy and I am feeling kind of worn down."

"Shall we keep it low key tonight then? Just the two of us? Would you like me to take it from here?" That meant did he want Barb to decide the course of the evening from that point onward. She knew how to take care of him and Travis always found it relaxing when she took control of events.

"That would be great Barb." sighed Travis with obvious relief.

Barb was the only woman who could do a proper job of leading Travis. The other women tended to miss the whole point by trying to figure out where he wanted to be led or acting out a role that didn't suit them. Barb wasn't acting. She knew what he liked and she knew how far she could push him and enjoyed doing it. It wasn't a Dom dynamic and she wasn't bossy. It was just a very subtle shift whereby she would be decisive and tell him what to do and he would wait for this to happen rather than take any initiative to direct their activities.

"Well then I would like you to put on my anklet darling." Barb pulled her dainty slut wife anklet from her purse. I didn't have any words just the little symbols - one for female and ten for male - going all the way around her ankle. She put it in Travis's hands then extended her leg pushing it up between his legs underneath the table.

Travis looked at the delicate gold chain and contemplated its meaning. "How do you decide how many of the male symbols are on here?" He asked.

"I used to add one for every guy I fucked since my initial break-up with Grant, but I ran out of room so now it is just filled with men." She felt Travis cock get hard and push against her shoe. "Put it on darling."

Most people have no idea what a slut wife anklet means. Among those who do they would not know whether Travis was her husband or one of her lovers. But they would know that the woman who is leading him has many lovers besides him. Travis liked her overt sexuality but even more than that he liked the fact that she revelled in it.

"Don't worry darling I don't plan to pick up any other men tonight even if someone does notice the anklet. I just like wearing it when I am in charge."

"Why is that?" Said Travis as he clasped the jewelry around her ankle.

"I don't know. I think maybe it is a matter of being comfortable with myself. We both know that I am a slut don't we Travis? The fact that you recognize that and still want to let me take the lead makes me feel strong. I suppose this is my little indulgence to enhance that feeling."

"Barb it is precisely because you are such a delicious slut that I want you to lead, not in spite of it."

"Now isn't that a lovely thing to say." Cooed Barb. "You are a very good boy and will be treated well tonight."

Barbs' leadership was always a warm safe place and that feeling washed over Travis as she spoke to him. They had a pleasant dinner and a bottle of wine. Barb led the conversation lightly through current events and playful comments on the other patrons. She always kept it casual and non-controversial without bogging down in painfully superficial small talk.

Near the end of the meal Barb got up to go to the ladies room. She took her time, making sure Travis could watch her walk across the room and see the other men stealing glances. On her way back she walked along the length of the cocktail bar. There was a brief "traffic" jamb and the man sitting on the stool next to where she stood while waiting for it to clear said something to her. Travis watched as they shared a laugh and chatted for just a moment. She smiled her warm sexy smile and touched him on the shoulder before returning to the table.

"Do you know that man?" Asked Travis as she sat down.

"No. He was just hitting on me."

"Do you ever get tired of that?"

"What, guys hitting on me? Not really. I take it as a compliment most of the time. Every now and then guys get a bit pushy or rude, but I just need to know how to handle them."

"And how is that?"

"Oh, it depends upon the situation. I think it has to do with my mindset as much as anything. I start from the position that it is my right to dress or look the way I want without being harassed or insulted. But I also know that the way I look draws attention and I have to expect that. So before I judge a man's approach I need to look at the context and what are his intentions."

"I have never quite understood the women who get all dressed up, go to a singles bar then behave...well...bitchy when guys approach them. That seems very self centred."

"Well, yes and no. I saw a skit on TV the other night where an average looking guy approached a girl in a bar and she started screaming rape. Then a good looking guy approached her and she all but fell on her back and spread her legs. It was funny as hell because it was getting at a bit of a truth about vain superficial women. But it does get tiresome sometimes. And a lot of guys say the dumbest things. The ones who just toss the same lame ass line at 50 women in a row trying to play the odds are really insulting. Even if they don't say anything insulting the whole approach is the epitome of disrespectful objectification. Sometimes the next guy who comes along might be the one to feel the sting of an irritated woman. That is not fair but I do understand where she is coming from."