Everyone wants to Become a Slut

This is a video-script that I'd still like to see made into a short scene, but I'm giving it more narration than most others I've written.

This is all fiction. It began when I was chatting with someone online who was asking me about my sluts. And she said that she would like to be a slut. She asked if I would write a story with her in it -- but she wanted a fully narrated story and not just a script. I had her tell me some things about herself and her habits, and that character is based on her. I don't know why I based the other character so much on me -- must be because we chatted about the fantasy of her becoming one of my sluts.

I have her permission to share this story.

What porn actresses would you like to cast in the roles?

The scene begins in a neat and clean living room. It's not very large. There's a very attractive woman angling the chairs to form more of a circle. She's in her early 30s and has a fabulous figure that suggests a good diet and lots of regular exercise. Her tan skirt is high enough to hint at her sexiness and low enough to still be professional, and she wears a pale yellow, high quality blouse. She wears a crystal, Swarovski tennis bracelet and a matching necklace.

Scene 121: Everyone Wants to Become a Slut

I should begin by explaining why this meeting is at my apartment, especially when I'm the newest and youngest member of the steering team. But when you look at where we all live, my place is most centrally located plus I don't have a family or roommates, so we could meet here and not bother anyone. And just after dinner on a Wednesday night, six middle-aged women joined me to plan our charity's fund-raising activities for the next quarter. As the ladies arrive, I offer them each water, tea, or coffee and bring their requests. I don't have as much fund-raising experience as the rest of the team, and I feel that I'm trying to find ways to add value to the team. I'm really on this team because I'm our organization's new treasurer, and I have solid bookkeeping experience.

Everyone else is sitting when I return with Margaret 's coffee. She thanks me and also compliments me on how pretty I look tonight. I have to smile. No one at work ever comments on my looks. Oh, I know the men are watching me all of the time. They go out of their way to walk by my desk and try to sit where they can see me during meetings. I dress to give ample encouragement to their fantasies. But our company warns constantly about sexual harassment in the workplace, and they're all too frightened with getting tagged with that label, and they like to pretend that I'm just any other woman that they don't care about. And the other women in the company are more senior than I am and firmly believe that complimenting a woman on her looks is just barbaric and unenlightened. I'm sure they feel that I don't dress plainly enough, but I only occasionally cross the line in the sand of appropriateness, and never by much. Today, though, I stayed on the conservative and safe side.

There are two empty chairs together, and I sit in the one nearest to the front door. Mary is passing around the agenda, and the doorbell rings. "That's going to be Shelby," Linda says. "She's my sister's daughter, and I told her she should get involved with organizations like ours to meet more people."

I got up and entered the door. I was so amazed; it's like there's an angel entering my house. I know I was staring, and I couldn't say anything as I let her into the room. Now I know what it means for someone to be radiant. I want to reach out and touch her long, golden, wavy hair. Her lovely face draws everyone's eyes to her, and the meeting chatter pauses.

She scans the group until she spots Linda. "Hi, Aunt Linda." She shares a smile, and it's like the entire room brightens from her brilliant white teeth.

"Hello, dear." Linda addresses the rest of the group. "This is my niece, Shelby." She returns her attention to the newcomer. "We saved you a seat."

I stare as she walks to the chair by mine and sits. This woman needs to meet more people like a rabbit needs more attention at a dog park. She's wearing a brick red minidress with a bare shoulder, and it's coin toss which is better, her figure or her legs. I'm 5'5", and she's maybe three inches taller than I am, but one or two of those inches come from higher heels than I'm wearing. Her next stop after this meeting ends is either a date with a handsome and wealthy executive or a night out at the fanciest dance club in the city. If she has trouble meeting people, then ... enough. I sit next to her and try to concentrate on the first agenda item.

I look over at Shelby. I guess she's about five to ten years younger than I am. I wonder what work she does. I feel like if she were our company's receptionist or CEO's executive assistant, that would be a step down from whatever she should be doing. Can you make a living as a cheerleader. She's probably a model. I wonder if I can find images of her modeling swimsuits -- bikinis -- online. Her dress is pretty tight, and it makes it easier to visualize her in a bikini -- or less. I know I'm staring, but I'm trying to decide if she's wearing a bra or not. That's a dumb thing to wonder about, so instead I wonder about what size her breasts are. Maybe 33 or 34C. That's what I'd like them to be, and I'm imagining how they would look. I've taken off her bra along with her dress in my mind, and I can see her breasts. Whatever size they are, they're the most perfect breasts ever. I'm convinced of it.

Shelby looks my way and catches me staring at her. I quickly avert my attention lower. She has long legs and perfectly toned thighs that it would so fun to kiss and lick. I wish I could away with wearing something that short to work, but I only get to wear something like that when I go out. If that dress were just a little higher ... she's still watching me stare at her and I look the other direction. But I keep looking back her way. Why did these two chairs have to be together. If I were across from her, I could watch her more. I imagine how it would be, and maybe she would like that attention, just like I have fun teasing the men watching me by accidentally flashing them in meetings. Her dress is very tight, but it's so short and it would be very easy to see her panties if she let me. I wonder what color they are. In my fantasy, they're pink -- bright pink. It goes well with the red and looks good against her tanned skin. And when I take them off in my mind, she's perfectly shaved.

The meeting dragged on for another 45 minutes, and I don't know anything that happened. But I could tell you about some kinky fantasies with me and Shelby. Shelby doesn't wait around and leaves for her date. My pussy is demanding that I go get my vibrator, and I tell the ladies that I'm tired and can't chat tonight. I herd them out the door quickly, and I don't waste any time after the door shuts. I unzip my skirt and quickly pull it down. I kick it and my shoes off and over towards my largest chair. I slip off my yellow and turquoise striped panties and toss them on to the floor on my way to the chair. I'll get the Hitachi right after I finger myself a little. But I haven't even been rubbing myself for more than two minutes when the doorbell rings.

I panic for a moment and look at the blinds. They're closed, and I feel relief that no one can be spying on me. There are times I like to be an exhibitionist, but I feel too out-of-control to do it tonight. I rub faster and use my super-power to will her to leave my doorstep, but the bell rings again. Whichever lady it is knows I'm here, and I'll have to pause my satisfaction. I wipe my fingers on my butt while I put on my skirt. I glance at the floor for the panties while I walk to the door, but I don't see them. It doesn't really matter. I'll stand in the door and see what she forgot to tell me.

My heart speeds up when I open the door. It's Shelby.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Morgan. I decided that I had to go home instead of going to the club, and I wanted to call my friends and tell them not to expect me, but I think I left my phone in your apartment." She starts to walk in, and I move out of the way. My fantasies are for her to be in my apartment, so I have to let her in, right? She spots the phone on the table next to where she was sitting. Now I discover why I didn't see my panties on the floor. They landed in the next chair by the table. I use my not-so-super-power to will Shelby not to see it. She picks up her phone, and my powers fail me again. She pauses as her gaze sees the panties on the chair.

I stammer to find an excuse. "You're right, those weren't there a minute ago. You know how it is after wearing business clothes all day long. Sometimes you just want to get everything off and feel free for a little while." I kind of laugh as I pick up the panties and wad them in my hand. "I least I didn't lose the skirt."

She looks at me briefly, and I want to think that she's imagining me nude. There's that smile again, and everything about the world feels wonderful again. "I feel that way, too. That's why I want to get home. I kept seeing you look at me and how I'm dressed tonight, and suddenly I felt all hot and slutty."

What can I say next? That's nothing like I expected her to say. I know what it means for me if I said I feel hot and want to get home; I think about that vibrator in the drawer next to my bed and shove it out of my mind. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like a slut."

She takes a step towards me and lowers her voice to tell me a secret. "But that's just it. I've never done a single slutty thing." She stops and looks all tense; I know there's more coming. "But the truth is, I want to be a slut."

"Huh?"

Now that she's shared her secret, I see the tenseness leave her. "I'm saying I'm horny almost all day long, and I'm addicted to masturbation. When I wake up, I warm up with my fingers playing with my breasts and then I hurry and get in the shower so I can use the shower head to cum. I love that part. Then I hurry to work. I'm a physical therapist at a retirement home."

"What a waste!" I think to myself.

"I don't have to think hard in that job so I'm able to fantasize all day long and sometimes there are gaps between patients and I can go off to my room and finger myself a little. But there's no one there that I can talk about my fantasies with. And my friends I go out with sometimes, they're all nice girls and beautiful and have lots of dates and are busy looking for husbands. And I can tell that every one of them would rather have my looks. None of them would ever be a slut or understand. So most nights after work I go home, and I undress in the mirror because that turns me on and then I get in my bed and turn on the TV in my room and play with myself while I watch online porn until I'm tired enough to go to sleep."

Why are you telling me this, I wonder. "But I bet you can get more sex than you imagine by hooking up with men at whatever club you like to go to."

"There's another problem, and this is also why I can't talk to my friends about it." There's that tense pause again while she convinces herself to continue. "I don't like all of that aggressiveness and pushiness. I want to run away from those men."

She pauses, and I will her to continue and tell me what I want to hear so badly. This time, my power succeeds beyond all of my wildest hopes.

"All of my fantasies and most of the porn I watch is lesbian." She looks relieved again, and she watches me to see how I'm going to react. She's curious what I'll say.

"So why tell me?"

Her worried look returns. "I don't know. Maybe because I don't know you, and you're safe. No, I know you're not really safe because I don't know you. But it's safe that you don't know anyone in my life, except for Linda, to gossip about me if you disapprove. But I don't think you're going to disapprove. I saw you look at me all night like the men do who want my attention. And I really, really don't want you to disapprove." That last part definitely has more pleading in the tone and less conviction.

I shake my head and try to give her my sexiest and most alluring smile. "I won't disapprove."

"And when I saw you keep looking at me, and you're so sexy and mysterious ..." She looks at the panties in my hand and I can tell she's looking at my skirt that's higher now than it was during our meeting. "Yes, very sexy and I just wanted to go home and pretend to myself that we were undressing each other, and I would masturbate all night while I fantasized about you. And then when I realized I'd left my phone here, I thought maybe this is my chance and maybe it doesn't have to be a fantasy, and I've never admitted this to anyone else, and ...." She's waving her hands while she tries to think of how to wrap this up convincingly. Her voice gets quiet and conspiratorial again. "And I couldn't pay attention to anything tonight because all I could do was imagine holding your sexy, naked body against mine."

I could tell she was done talking. I saw -- or I wanted to see -- a pleading look on her face while she waits for me to tell her what to do next.

It takes all of my control not to just rip off all of my own clothes and fall naked at her feet and beg her to make me her lover. But she wants to be a slut, not a goddess. The longer I pause, I see the look of desperation on her face grow. She's made a huge leap out of her zone of comfort and way over her own line in the sand and is ready to do anything to not return empty and beaten.

"It sounds like you're already a slut, but you're a private slut." She opens her mouth to argue, but she knows it's true. "But tonight you're my slut. Maybe it was your instinct, but you made a good choice tonight. I have a weakness for sluts and find them irresistible. I have lots of experience with sluts."

The grand smile returns, and I'm so tempted to fast-forward to the sex. But I want to make her a real slut and add her to my personal collection. "Go stand in the middle of the room and pull that dress off over your head!" She obeys me without any objection. She practically skips, she's so happy, and then turns towards me. She reaches behind to unzip and pulls up her dress. I love her panties! They aren't pink, but they're silvery and satin and about the skimpiest bikini panties possible. She continues pulling the dress over her head. I was right -- no bra. It takes all of my control not to go squeeze them and put them in my mouth. Her nipples are already very prominent. I wonder how wet she is. She is so stunning in those tiny panties and high heels.

She drops the dress next to her, and I'm going to keep push her sluttiness and her comfort level. "Those panties are ridiculous." She looks hurt. "You might as well wear nothing under your dress. I quickly stride over to her and yank them down with a single pull. She wasn't ready for that, and her hands instinctively cover her pussy. "What are you doing?" I shout at her. I want to keep her off-balance and think I'm angry with her. "Did I tell you to cover up."

She lowers her head and shakes it meekly and puts her hands behind her back. I admire her smooth pussy. "I like it when my sluts are shaved." She dares to raise her head a little and give me a smile. I want to taste her, but I have some more steps to go through before I reach the finish line. "Turn around so I can see your ass." She obeys me promptly. "Bend over and stick out your ass." I walk up behind her. "Spread your legs a little." I wait for her to obey. I'm so ready to feel that pussy. "Some people love big butts and some people love bubble butts. My favorites are naked, smooth butts that I can squeeze and caress." I squeeze and caress and pinch her ass. She lets out a loud moan as she finally feels what she's been dreaming of for such a long time. I wonder if any woman's ever come just from having her butt squeezed. "Do you like this?"

"Yes, mistress."

I'm surprised by her reply. "What did you call me."

She tenses up. "I'm sorry. It just seemed like the right thing to say. You should punish me if you don't like it. I know I've been bad and deserve a spanking."

I resume rubbing her ass. "Maybe later. We'll see. And you can call me mistress." I know she can't be enjoying this as much as I am. I reach around to hold her breasts with both hands for a moment before caressing down her side and returning to her ass. I adore how flat her stomach is and how small her waist is. I rub and squeeze her smooth, tender cheeks with both hands and pull them apart for just for a moment and then caress her outer thighs and squeeze her butt again. "What have you done to deserve a spanking?"

She doesn't answer at first; I think she's hypnotized by my touch. "Answer me, slut!"

That snaps her attention back to me. "I masturbate a lot. And after I left your apartment, I was in the car fantasizing about you without your permission."

It's time. I slide my middle finger inside her pussy to test her wetness, and it's as wet as I expected. She gasps as she feels my finger go deep inside her. She spreads her legs wider, pushes against my hand, and moans again. "Please fuck me, mistress." Instead, I take my finger out and turn her towards me. I put my finger in her mouth and let her suck her own juice off of it and swirl her tongue around it. I take my finger out and put my hands on her waist. "I love how long and slender your fingers are," she tells me.

"My mom wanted me to become a pianist except I spent all of my spare time playing with myself instead of practicing." I lean in closer and pull her towards me. "And fantasizing about kissing girls like you."

She pulls back abruptly and sees the surprise in my eyes. "Oh, I've never kissed a girl. I've never really fantasized about that part."

"Really?" I know my voice is sarcastic and disdainful. "You strip and let another woman fondle you and finger you but you haven't even kissed a woman yet? Do you know how backwards that sounds?"

She hears me getting angry and she's flustered. "I'm sorry, mistress. Please kiss me just like in all of the movies." She leans down towards me and closes her eyes. Our mouths meet, and her tongue fills my mouth. For someone who was startled by this just a minute ago, now she's all enthusiastic. Her tongue slides along mine and then darts around my mouth. She wraps her arms around me tightly as if she wants to make sure I never stop. I'm happy to let this continue; I never get tired of kissing my lovers. I have one hand on her back pulling her to me, and we're frozen like that for several minutes. Only our tongues and my other hand on her butt are moving. I sense it's time to move to the next step of her training. My own pussy is demanding attention.

I step back and push her away gently. "How do you feel, slut? Do you like having a fully dressed woman playing with your nude body while we kiss?" She has a moment of self-contemplation. She realizes that she should be embarrassed, but the only thing she feels is tremendous lust for more. She looks down. "I'm a slut." She raises her head enough that she can peek at me and see if I approve. "I feel so ... slutty."

I smile what I hope looks like a wicked smile. "Do you know what else sluts like to do?"

She shakes her head. "No, mistress."

"They masturbate while their mistress watches." I move my gaze from her eyes down to her pussy to emphasize what I expect.

She looks stunned. "You want to just watch me masturbate?" she whimpers.

"You like watching girls masturbate," I accuse her. I can see the truth and the guilt on her face. She always enjoys watching the show on her computer and never ever considered what it would be like to be the show. Deep down, she knows that this is something that sluts do. I'm impatiently waiting for her to start. If she's like me, she can feel she's on the verge of an overpowering orgasm. She massages her breasts and stretches one towards her mouth, and she's able to lick her nipple. I've seen lots of porn models do that in their videos, but it's never really turned me on much until now. Watching Shelby's tongue move across her nipple is the new definition of sexy tease. Only a moment ago, that tongue was in my mouth and that nipple was pressed against my body. The other hand starts to play with her clit. I think she's a bit nervous still but she gets more intense as her sexual desire overcomes her remaining embarrassment.