A Slut is Born

This is an open letter, of sorts, to my husband. I have mixed feelings, right now, about whether he ever reads it. The best-case scenario, and my preference, is that he reads it, forgives me my confusion, and allows me to explore this side of my personality until I make a determination of my inclinations. That won't happen. The absolute worst-case is that he reads it, is hurt beyond belief, calls me a lot of nasty names, and files for divorce. Either way, the die appears to be cast.

*

Gary, I'm a slut. Or, at least, that's what I've been led to believe, and, God knows, I believe it. I feel like a slut. I think about sex with people I don't know all the time: the guy in the elevator, the pizza delivery boy, Ben, from next door. Pretty much any man, or, lately, men. Pairs of men. Groups of men. Sometimes, men and women. But, I'm getting ahead of myself, Gary. I need; I really need; to tell you how this all started.

You know me. We've been married six years. In spite of my not being able to bear children, I've had no great expectations in our sex life. It's been good; and sometimes, absolutely wonderful, like that vacation we took two years ago to Colorado. Those days and nights outside, making love in the woods and by the river, have been the wildest times of my life, and I really never dreamed of more. Until lately.

Until your father.

Dan. I'm sure you'll hate him, when and if you ever read this. Myself, I'm not sure how I feel about him. Sometimes I blame him for everything I've become, but I know, if he came over today, I'd allow him to do whatever he wanted with me. Actually, correction: I WANT him to come over, and do those things. I need the excitement; the guilty pleasure he gives to me. I'm calling him, now.

* * *

Not there. Good. I guess. Question mark. Now I've got that itch all over again; not that it ever goes away. God, I'm pathetic!

Okay. Back to the confession, I guess. Gary, do you remember that business trip you took to Monterey a few months ago? You asked Dan to come by and check on me. You were so concerned about leaving me alone for three days. You didn't want me to be lonely.

I wasn't.

True to his word, he did come by, that evening. He brought an invitation to dinner, and a bottle of wine, for later. We went out to Carlo's, as I told you. After a nice dinner, we danced. It was nice; very romantic, in a way, considering I was out with my father-in-law. I felt, at some point, his erection against my leg, and I was startled, but I actually began to fantasize, at that point. Then we came home.

We ended up sitting on the sofa, watching some lame sci-fi movie on TV, and he poured us wine. I don't drink; you know that, but I asked for another glass, and then a third. Maybe I was inviting it, I don't know, but when he put his arm around my shoulder I nestled into him as if he were you. He kissed my neck and whispered into my ear.

"Everything okay?" he asked, and I answered, "It is, now." He kissed my cheek. Gary, I turned to him as he did, and his lips dragged across my cheek and onto my lips. We kissed for a long moment, then he pulled me closer, and I put my hand on his chest, and then his shoulder. Then around his neck, and I pulled him tighter.

My lips opened, and his tongue touched mine. They touched a lot for the next few minutes, tasting each other and caressing, then pressing against one another more forcefully. Our need for one another quickly built, and before too many minutes I found myself being lowered onto my back and his hand going up under my blouse toward my breast. I didn't fight it, and when it slid up under the cup of my bra I arched my back. You can guess the rest.

I didn't help, but I allowed him to undress me. He took a long time, pausing to look at me often, and commenting on how beautiful I was. He used the word "ravishing" a lot, and now that I think of it, it seems funny. I thought he was ravishing me, but he made it sound like I was the ravishing one! At any rate, once my blouse and bra were on the floor, he reached behind me to unzip my skirt. Gary, I rolled my hips to allow him to do that. I wanted him so badly, at that point, that if you had walked in on us, I probably wouldn't have let him stop!

Once my skirt was off, he stood up to undress, since my attempts to pull his shirt off were completely ineffective to that point. He knew I wouldn't take the opportunity to rethink things. In fact, I spread my legs as I watched him, and began to stroke myself through my panties, getting more and more excited. He smiled, knowing my need, and urged me on.

"That's it, Tori," he whispered. "Make yourself wet for me."

I closed my eyes and played as he finished undressing, almost afraid to look at him again. I knew he was watching me. It only got me hotter. By the time I felt his hands on my thighs and the weight of his body on the couch cushions, I was almost there. He lowered his head to my pussy as I opened my eyes, and covered me with his mouth, panties and all. Within seconds I exploded onto his tongue, and he licked me through my entire orgasm.

Gary, it was the most complete sexual experience I've ever had. I know it hurts to read this, but I literally blacked out for a few seconds. It scared him, but when I came around I pulled him onto me, and I told him I wanted more. I wanted him inside me; wanted his big dick splitting me open. He actually ripped my panties off me! I looked down, watching his cock as he did. He was throbbing for me, the head of that beast a fiery red with desire.

When he entered me I cried out. I was so needy; so sexually stimulated that I literally cried out for him to fuck me. He did. His hips drove into me, and I felt his entire length and width against the walls of my pussy. His balls felt like huge sacks of heat as they slapped against my ass, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding him to me. I noticed that I still had my high-heels on, and it made it seem all the more exciting. It was forbidden, this giving of myself to my husband's father. It was unthinkable, but I did it, and I loved it.

* * *

Later, after my third orgasm, we lay together. He spoke softly, but his words held the weight of the world. He told me, Gary, that he had always known the way I was, since the first time you introduced me to him. He told me that I had an inborn passion for sex; that I was receptive. He told me I was a slut.

I didn't like that. My voice got higher as I pushed him off me and cursed him. How dare he? How dare he call me that name, after using my body as he did? I sat on the edge of the sofa and cried, and he stood, watching me. "It's true," he said. "I've turned you." I looked angrily at him, and his hand touched my shoulder. "You know it's true," he insisted, and I pulled away, furious.

Gary, he grabbed me by the shoulders, and pushed me back against the couch cushions. He bent over me and kissed me again, and though I tried to resist at first, I ended up opening my mouth and letting his tongue tease me, once again. Suddenly, I couldn't get enough of him. I reached for his waist and pulled him to me. He grabbed my arms and held my wrists over my head, proving his dominance. When he arched his back and thrust his cock at me, I opened my mouth again.

I took him inside my mouth and slid my lips down the slippery length of his cock. The aroma of our combined fluids was like some sexy perfume in my nostrils, and the taste was heavenly. I felt him at the back of my throat, and I swallowed as he forced himself forward. He slipped past my uvula. I only gagged once, then he was buried in me. He held me there for the longest time, until I began to choke for air. Only then did he release me.

I coughed once, deeply, leaning forward on the couch. I thought I was going to retch. When it passed, I reached for his cock again. I wanted it between my lips, sliding into my throat. I wanted to smell our cum as I licked him clean. I needed him to make me feel like the unfaithful tramp that I was; the concubine of his son. The slut.

Your dad did things to me all that night. These were things that I would have sworn I'd never submit to, Gary. He seemed bent on cementing my new persona. Though he never actually forced me, I submitted to whatever his mind could conceive for me. No matter how depraved it seemed to me once, I allowed it; and I loved it. I think about those things we did, writing this, and I'm oozing wetness onto the chair as I do. I can still taste the strings of cum he laid across my face that night, and I lick my lips involuntarily. I can still feel the heat of his entry into my ass as I lay bound and gagged across our dining room table, and I ache for it again.

By morning, I was well on my way to being a slut. I remember laying, still dressed only in those blue pumps, with my legs spread apart and my hands teasing my nipples, watching him leave, and begging him for more. He laughed, and promised to be back that night. He was, and the next night, too.

* * *

By that third day; the day you were to arrive home, I was in full heat. Dan urged me to satisfy my cravings, however I could. He told me to dress sexily, and picked out an outfit for me. I tried to get him to fuck me again, but he said he couldn't. He had to leave.

I went to the mall. I figured there were lots of horny guys there, and I could get fucked in one of the exits, or in a stockroom somewhere. I really didn't care. I was crazy with lust. I walked the entire length of the mall, but there wasn't even anybody worth trying to hook up with, so I drove to that little bar on 81. It was almost deserted, but I met two guys there. I flirted a little and they bought me a few drinks, but I didn't drink them. I knew you'd be home soon, and I didn't want to be drunk. I made them dance with me; first one, and then the other.

The older one, a guy named Craig, eventually got up his courage and started to kiss me, and I took it from there. I pulled him across the little dance floor until my back was against the pool table, and I lay down across it with my legs spread. With my short skirt, they could see my panties, and my wetness. The bartender warned us about making a scene, but I just looked over at him, and he knew. He went to lock the door.

Craig didn't waste any time. He pushed my skirt up around my hips and yanked my panties off my legs. I saw the other two guys approach on either side, but I was concentrating on Craig. He dropped his jeans around his ankles, and I waited. His dick was already hard, and he slid right into me. The other two laughed as he began to fuck me. They called me a cumslut.

Gary, I fucked three men that day, and it wasn't enough. That's why I was so anxious to get you home, and why I went so crazy on you. Just knowing that I had the residue of three other men in me when I went down on you, was so hot! I can't shake this madness in me. I don't know where it'll end, but until then, I hope you can understand, somehow. This is who I am.