Free Use City Newport Ch. 02: Dirty

The unexpected thing about living in a free use city is just how little competition there is between women. There's no social status in relationships when all relationships are necessarily open. Having a steady boyfriend doesn't mean there won't be other men fucking you every day, and it certainly doesn't mean your beloved won't be fucking other women. In a free use city, monogamy is the perversity.

No, having a boyfriend sleep in your bed guarantees only one thing: that your body will be available to be used while you're asleep - or while you're trying to sleep, at any rate.

Colin is the first man in Newport I invite home for the night. I was having a drink with Mary in a fetish club. Some random guy bought us cocktails each, then sucked on my toes while Mary gave him a footjob. Mary had spied Colin watching from a seat at the bar, and as the foot fetishist stood to leave, having spurted his cum over Mary's bare feet, she had waved him over. "Colin's a crane operator," she said by way of introduction, and rested her legs up on the table, her cum-splashed feet practically beneath Colin's nose. "We arrived in Newport at the same time and shared an apartment for a few weeks."

I'm new to Newport myself. The casual openness about sex in all its forms, and the written and unwritten rules around sexual exploitation, still continue to surprise me daily. Nowhere else but in a free use city could a stranger buy a couple of girls a drink and immediately proceed to use their feet as sex aids. "Eleven," Mary had said as we entered the bar earlier, "free use in public is for vanilla stuff. The usual. Blowjobs, anal sex, vanilla sex, tits. Anything kinkier than that, use the fetish bars."

"And why would any woman go to a fetish bar?" I asked.

Mary grinned. "Twelve, if you want to use a woman for anything kinky, it's only polite to buy her a drink first. Thirteen, if you accept the drink, you accept the kink. Sometimes it's disturbing, mostly it's fun, and since the drinks are free, why not?"

Colin brought with him a rum and coke for Mary, and a jug of water for me. "Drinks, ladies?" he had offered, grinning, and was soon licking another man's cum from Mary's ankles with slow, seductive pleasure.

"Colin's a total cumslut," Mary explained, as if it wasn't obvious. "He also loves to lick a woman's pussy while she pees."

Which explained the jug of water he had put in front of me. If the idea of a man watching me pee was weird and uncomfortable, the idea of his face being in my crotch while I tried to let go of a full bladder was almost incomprehensible. In coming to Newport, I had understood there would be sex, and I had even given myself some gentle anal training in advance of moving to the free use city, but after a week here I still find it embarrassing to have strangers watch while a man I may never have seen before chooses my ass or cunt or mouth or tits to use for his pleasure. I still find it shamefully dirty to have cum oozing visibly down my legs at all, let alone in the middle of a work day. I do clean up after sex, but Mary's Rule Number Seven states, "No cleaning below the hemline until it's bedtime." Once the cum is visible, it stays visible.

Women in Newport have a strict dress code: high heels, a high hemline, and no underwear. The shoes I've gotten used to, the high hemline less so. There's a reason why almost all the seats in Newport are plastic. Fabric seats would be a major health hazard for all the bare bums and leaking cunts that press against them daily. The wet wipes I carry around with me are essential for cleaning chairs before and after I sit.

Between all the fucking and the rain, because the weather in Newport sucks, clear plastic raincoats are allowed, but also the dresses made locally are as water resistant on the outside as they are garishly colourful. Today I wore a dark blue dress with large pink lip imprints everywhere. The cum that had splashed against my breasts by accident on the bus trip into work in the morning had cleaned straight off after. The cum that had run down my legs after the mid-afternoon meeting with my boss had been left to dry, and my cunt was still wet and aching pleasantly from that thick, brutal cock.

I took my time, necessarily, but drank down that full jug of water until my insides protested, and it wasn't long before that fullness found its way to an urgent bladder. Colin meanwhile licked Mary's feet clean and she returned them to her shoes. "You should take him home," she said. "You'll find it a lot easier to relax there - and Colin's perfectly safe. You can even give him seconds in the morning."

Given the increasing need to empty my bladder, I wasn't sure I'd make it home in time, but her advice was sound and really we weren't far from the apartment I share with Tanya. "Okay," I said. "Let's go."

Ten minutes later we were in my private bathroom and I was ready to burst, so desperate that I no longer cared if Colin watched. I stood straddling the toilet and lifted my dress as Colin knelt in front of me. I tried to let go, but despite everything my bladder was shy, until Colin dived between my parted thighs, his tongue sweeping between my labia, swirling playfully about my clit, and it felt so fucking good. I wondered if he could taste how many men had used my cunt today... Three? No - four.

I could hold it in no longer. My pee burst out into his mouth and he moaned with delight. The sound of it dripping into the bowl beneath us was a crude reminder of just how dirty an act this was. I had never dreamed I would ever do something like this. Out of desperation for a job, I had moved to a city where not only I was expected to be available for sex, but I was now willingly casting aside dignity and decency.

If I ever leave Newport, what do I tell people about who I am? "Yes, all my orifices were thoroughly and repeatedly used, and my toes were sucked by a strange and I peed into a guy's mouth, but I'm a sensible girl and not a cumslut who can't be trusted not to seduce all your husbands..."

As if to prove me a slut beyond redemption, Colin not only drank what he could of my pee, his tongue worked me so expertly I was soon clutching his head, holding his mouth tight against my pussy as I climaxed. Even worse, I could see my face in the mirror as I did so, my cheeks flushed with shame, exertion and ecstasy.

In bed, exhausted, I let him take me from behind. His cock was the smallest I'd ever had inside me, but I didn't care. I think I fell asleep before he was done with me.

But in the middle of the night, the only sound outside that of the distant container terminal that worked all hours, I'm abruptly awake again, a hard cock pressing into my ass, and it takes me a long, confused moment to remember that I brought a man to my bed, and therefore my body is his to use at will. My ass is his to use.

It's a rude awakening, but I consciously relax into it, allowing it without encouraging it. His cock may be small, but the sensation of a cock in the ass is a difficult one to sleep through. I'm lying on my front; he's taking me from behind. As soon as he realises I'm awake, he picks up the pace, thrusting as hard and deep as he can get. My ass gets well lubricated during the day, and maybe Colin added some more lube, but there's still enough friction to excite me when I'd rather just sleep. "I love this city," he says. "I never had sex before I came here, and now I get pussy every day, and sometimes a nice hot ass too."

That's me. A nice hot ass. "I need to leave in thirty for my shift," he says. "I want to start the day with my cum in your ass and the taste of your pussy in my mouth. Ready, you gorgeous slut?"

At half past three in the morning? Fuck. "Ready," I mumble.

The walls in the apartment are thin. If Tanya's awake, she can hear us fucking. There's nothing subtle about the creak of the bed and the smack of flesh against flesh. He likes it hard, he likes it fast, he likes it slow too. I let him do what he wants, and his rhythm is so steady I wonder if maybe it is possible to sleep after all...

... of course, if this had been back at home, before coming to Newport, I would have been screaming with pure indignation at his presumption, with fury at being woken in the middle of the night, with pain at having a cock in my virgin ass uninvited, but I'm no anal virgin now. I'm new to Newport, but already I've lost count of the number of cocks that have used my ass. On my third day in Newport, I had one cock in my ass at the bus stop in the morning, another while I was on the bus, and a third - briefly - on the escalator from the lobby up to the second floor. Not one of those three cocks actually finished inside me, and I came nowhere close to an orgasm myself, but as I cleaned my chair and sat at my desk, collecting my thoughts in preparation for another day of work, the bare skin of my bum against the cold plastic, I couldn't tell whether I was more resentful of being used constantly like a piece of meat, or of not being used more. My ass ached from being stretched and fucked, but the ache that persisted was an emptiness, a hunger to be filled again, to feel again the dirty trickling of cum...

I groan as Colin rolls me over onto my back, his cock swiftly returning to my ass, one hand grabbing at my tits, squeezing my nipples, the sharp, almost electric sensations chasing away any hope of actually sleeping through any of this.

... because only weeks ago the thought of anal sex would have horrified me. Indeed, the one thing that kept giving me pause whenever I considered coming to Newport, was the idea of anal sex. Free use was kinky as hell, and I knew that working here would see me labelled a whore in the outside world, but the idea of anyone, let alone strangers, sticking their cock in my ass? That frightened me. Beyond the morality of it and the anticipated physical pain, there was the whole hygiene aspect. Anal sex was dirty, physically as well as morally...

He lifts my ankles over his shoulders, the weight of his thrusts driving me down against the mattress, forcing whimpers of complaint and moans of unasked-for pleasure from my lips. No way is Tanya sleeping through this.

... so I watched a lot of porn to try and understand anal sex, and I used toys to prepare my ass, including a vibrating plug that I soon learned to love despite being terrified someone might find me with it. By the time I moved to Newport, I was physically and mentally prepared for some stranger to use my ass, even for them to do so in public with other people able to see...

Colin presses his hand to my belly, applying pressure to my bladder, and suddenly I'm very aware of a different need. "Not here," I plead, pushing his hand away.

... and actually it wasn't so bad, that first time my ass was used. But I really wasn't prepared for how dirty I felt afterwards, the cum leaking from my ass for hours afterwards, the evidence of it visible every time I stood up from my chair. And I really wasn't prepared for how often my ass would get used, and by so many different men. Newport messes with the mind, because after a few days it all starts seeming so natural. You start to believe that it's right that men can use your body for their own pleasure and not necessarily for yours. You see random men sticking their cocks into random cunts, and you think, "I wish he'd chosen mine instead." People in the outside world call Newport's free use women sluts. I didn't come here to be a slut. I came here for the work and was willing to endure being used for the opportunity of the job, but as the days go by, it gets harder and harder to pretend I am not, in truth, a dirty little slut...

Colin drags me out of bed and into the bathroom, where he has me straddle the loo while he takes me from behind. With one hand he mauls at my breast and tugs at my nipple, with the other he presses against my belly, and his cock pushes into my ass once more, and is soon pounding deep and hard. "Let go," he says, his pinky teasing between my lips, rubbing gently against my clit and a little lower too. It's the middle of night, quiet except for us, and I wonder if Tanya can guess that he's begging me to pee while he fucks my ass.

... a dirty little slut who instead of screaming, "Pervert!" instead lets this relative stranger use her body in the middle of night, lets him use her ass, lets him drink her pee in the evening and afterwards even lets him kiss her. Dirty, dirty, dirty...

It takes effort, it takes time, but I manage finally to let the pee flow, and suddenly his pee-soaked fingers are working my clit and his cock is deep and still and thicker than ever, and we climax together.

And as if that's not enough to prove I'm a dirty little slut, he pulls out and drops to his knees, his tongue sweeping lovingly between my lips, curving mischievously about my oversensitive clit, dipping into my neglected but very wet cunt, and poking at that little hole where my pee comes out.

He dresses quickly and departs, whistling happily and leaving me torn between a desire for a long, cleansing shower and a need to sleep, because I don't think I can do both.

I choose sleep. The shower can wait...

*

Five hours later I'm in the bus with Mary. "We often get reports from the rail operators," she's saying, "but unless there's an incident caused by a breach in the security fence on our side, the reports tend to be days or even weeks old."

I don't say anything. I can't. A fellow passenger has decided to use my mouth, and vigorously too. By coincidence, or maybe it's not so coincidental given where we're going, he's an immigration officer, dressed in his black uniform with a crisp white shirt. He's freshly showered too, his crotch smelling of carnations and I can taste the soap on his long, lusty length.

He stands in front of me, his fingers entwined with my hair as he holds my head still and thrusts with youthful ardency into my throat. I'm grateful that he remembers to let me breathe from time to time.

I'm wearing yellow today. Mary's wearing green with nature patterns. Some guy used her cunt while we were waiting at the bus stop, and now she's surreptitiously wiping herself clean while I encourage the cock in my mouth to reach its climax.

"We send a patrol out every day," he says to Mary, "to inspect the fence. We find breaks once or twice a week." He's looking at her while fucking my throat. "Mostly it's young men braving the railway for a chance to experience the delights of Newport. They're easy to track down, for the most part."

"They don't know the rules," Mary says, nodding.

I gasp for air as he pulls out of my throat, although his cock is still in my mouth, and oozing precum. There's no chance for me to speak before he drives deep again. "Those that do evade us always make the attempt again. They might get lucky once, but we do get them."

Breaking into Newport is an immigration crime, unless refugee status is sought immediately. Abusing Newport's free use system without a signed and witnessed contract is sexual assault and a serious criminal offence. The railway forms the western border of Newport, and the frequent high speed trains make crossing that border hazardous in the extreme.

"Lick my cock, sweetheart," he says to her, nodding down at me.

Mary's bends and presses her lips against my cheek, a brief, subtle kiss for me before her tongue stretches out to lick the cock ramming in and out between my own lips. Her hand is on my thigh, perhaps for balance, perhaps to tease me. Her fingertips press into my inner thighs, not moving but certainly closer to my pussy than any woman has ever touched before.

Her lips brush against mine repeatedly as we strive to bring the cock to a climax, and I can't work out if this is a lesbian act for his benefit, or in truth an illicit act of lesbian seduction.

Rule One: Women do not initiate sex. Rule Sixty-Nine: Any public lesbianism is strictly performative for men.

I'm not a lesbian, or bisexual. A little bi-curious at times, however, and I can't deny there's a thrill of the forbidden in the idea that Mary is making love to me under the pretence of pleasing this stranger's cock. I'm particularly conscious of the weight of her breast against mine. Perhaps my already parted legs part a little further in the hope her hand will take advantage of my very exposed pussy.

"That's right," he growls down at us, and I can sense he's close. "I'm going to come in your mouth, and I want to watch the two of you share it." No one has ever asked me to do that before, although I did see a woman at the fetish club suck off a man and promptly feed him his own cum from her lips.

He pulls out abruptly and I open my mouth dutifully. One thing I've learned over the past few days is just how much men love the sight of their own cum. I think it's a territorial instinct. Dogs piss against lampposts, men spill their cum into open mouths and onto flushed faces and bare breasts. As much as they love to penetrate deep inside a woman, what they truly crave is the visual evidence of their victory: cum leaking from a wet pussy or from a gaping ass.

His cum spurts out and between my lips, onto my tongue, filling my mouth with that gooey cream I've become so adept at swallowing. This time I don't, however. This time I turn to Mary and she kisses me with a passion so startling that the cum flowing between us cannot be contained.

I have not been kissed with such intensity in months, and my heart beats wildly as cum drips from my chin, from her chin, and her fingertips brush against my labia so lightly it could almost be accidental, and it's all I can do not to grab her hand and press her fingers to my clit.

"Fantastic," he says, pulling my mouth to his diminished cock to lick up a last drop of cum. "Maybe see you again later?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. The bus has pulled up outside the railway terminal and he whistles happily as he tidies himself away and makes for the door.

"Come on," Mary says, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she licks her fingertips. "This is our stop too."

I want to kiss her again. I want to lick and kiss her cum-wet chin, and feel again her lips on mine. I want her fingers thrusting into me, and mine into her. I'm not a lesbian, but in a city of meaningless sex, Mary is pure seduction.

But this is our stop and the doors are open. Mary steps out and I hurry after.

*

"Nneka is fine," the administrator says as I stumble over the pronunciation of her surname. "Everyone calls me Nneka."

"I love your dress," Mary says, though I notice her gaze is very much not on the dress itself but on what is so voluptuously revealed.

Nneka is an attractive black woman in, I guess, her early forties with a cheerful yet professional manner. She has full, beautiful lips that I imagine men must love to use, but it is her large breasts that really capture attention.

Like every Newport woman, she's dressed to be used. Her vibrant orange dress is short and flares out around some wide hips, but its uniqueness is in its structural reinforcement, the way it supports her breasts from the sides, lifting them and pressing them together, while being open at the front from her neck almost to her navel.

The standard Newport dress, like Mary and I are wearing, is more of a false modesty, revealing only the upper slopes of our breasts to view. The material is thin enough that the curves of our breasts are clear, our nipples making sharp points in the fabric, and it is stretchy enough that it can be pulled down for full exposure.

A man wanting to fuck my breasts may therefore do so with ease. I just need to tug my dress down and let him get on with it. Afterwards, a quick wipe to clean up most of the cum - "Rule Fourteen: It's acceptable to clean your breasts after, but polite to leave some evidence visible. Oh, and Rule Fifteen: A little cocoa butter works wonders." - and the dress lifts up again without a wrinkle.