Growing Up as a Slut


"Is this story true? Are all my stories true? Like Ripley said, you
can 'believe it or not.' If it were fiction I'd put a disclaimer
here...." - Wendy

My name is Wendy. I was a slut in my younger days, but I'm not now. I
go online to tell my story sometimes. I figure it's therapy for me,
and if people get off by living vicariously through my experiences,
I'm glad to be of service.

I've discovered White Shadow's Nasty Stories site, and have decided
that this is a good outlet for me.

As I wrote in my previous sessions, I was a real high school tramp. I
went through a lot of ups and downs (pardon the pun) but I was glad to
have met my best friend Christine in my senior year. Together we made
that one a scorcher.

Now, as I said in my last post, she was a year younger than I. When I
was graduating, she still had another year at high school (possibly
more if she didn't put more effort into her academics.) So I wasn't
looking forward to having to leave her.

I had gotten financial assistance from the government to go to
college, and I was prepared to take full advantage of it. It was going
to be my first time away from home, and for that alone I was nervous,
but I was really looking forward to going to a new city, somewhere
that no one knew me. As much fun as I'd had in the last year, I
decided that this time, I really was going to try to be normal; maybe
get myself a good steady relationship even.

The summer before I left, Christine did in fact take my advice: One
weekend when my mom was out of town, Christine came over to stay the
night. At my urging she flirted with my younger brother for much of
the evening, and that night she slipped into his bedroom.

I listened to them, listened to the moans and the grunts, standing
just outside the door. It was naughty, but I enjoyed listening anyhow.
My mind kept drifting back to when it had been me in there.

I heard Christine crying out, 'Oh god!' and such in the throes of her
orgasm. It was then that I smiled inwardly and went back to my own
room. I had indeed made my brother a stud. He had to be good to make
such an unashamed slut as Christine moan and cry out like that.
Assuming she wasn't faking for his benefit. She wasn't the type to do
that. I knew she'd rather mangle a guy's personal ego than to let him
think he gave her something he didn't. That was one of the many ways
she and I differed.

When she crawled back into bed with me later on that night she told me
all the details, on how he'd licked and eaten her for an eternity,
before mounting on top of her, and pounding her brains out with his
cock angled just right. I was so proud.

We kissed goodnight, a habit we'd somehow developed, then got
comfortable for sleep. Even though it was a warm summer night we slept
in the 'spoon' position, with her large breasts pressed to my back and
her arm around my waist. Her fingers were resting lightly on my tummy,
just above the elastic band of my panties. I can still feel the gentle
caress of the air from the fan on my skin as it oscillated back and
forth in my room that summer night,

She still maintained that she was not bisexual, but she found comfort
in holding me anyway, and I always had my good-natured suspicions
about how much she might have wanted me to go further with her. Far
from freaking me out anymore, it just made me feel flattered. I felt
good snuggled up to her.

When I did go to college, my first living arrangement was off campus.
I'd gotten in touch with some other students through an ad, and the
eight of us were renting a house. It was an older building that
originally had two bedrooms downstairs and three upstairs. The largest
of the downstairs bedrooms had been split into two smaller rooms,
giving us one room per person, except for two boyfriend/girlfriend
couples that shared a bedroom each.

I lived in one of the upstairs rooms. Also upstairs were a guy named
Keith, and another guy named Brad and his girlfriend Sue. Downstairs
was a girl named Samantha, another girl named Laurie, and guy named
Tim and his girlfriend Beth. They had all been there for more than a
year except for Keith and I, who had replaced two graduates that were
not coming back.

It was awkward for me at first, but they were all a great group of
people who were used to living with complete strangers, and sharing
facilities, and I soon felt pretty much at home. I found myself
appraising the guys, even the ones, no --ESPECIALLY-- the ones with
girlfriends. It was second nature to me, but I constantly reminded
myself that this was a totally different situation. I had nothing to
prove, and a lot to lose.

Of course I noticed that the guys were checking me out, especially
when I'd come from the shower wrapped in my towel, holding it against
my chest, so that it extended just below my hips. Being a slut I could
maybe kick. A flirt? I think I'm one of those for life.

I confess I once dropped my towel accidentally (on purpose) right in
front of Brad when his girlfriend Sue was downstairs (and I knew it
wouldn't go further because of that). I let him catch an eyeful while
I feigned surprise and then ducked to pick it up. I saw his eyes zero
in on my shaven pussy, and it gave me that little flutter of pride
when I saw him try to hide the spark of lust in his eye.

I didn't do it anymore because it would be just too suspicious, but my
tight jeans and the snug sweat pants I wore casually around the house,
and when working out were allowing me to show myself off rather well.
Enough that I started to detect some mild hostility from Beth and Sue.
Over the next few weeks I learned to tone it down, though in such
close proximity to guys I discovered that I didn't even have to try. I
was just oozing sexual tension.

For Thanksgiving weekend most of the group went home to visit family,
while I couldn't really afford the trip. Brad was also staying behind,
his girlfriend Sue gone to see her parents, so it was just he and I
for that weekend. As soon as the last of the others left, I felt the
electricity in the air. Brad went out to get some groceries, and I got
into my casual wear: a snug burgundy track suit, and snuggled up on
the couch with a blanket and a bag of microwave popcorn.

When he got back with a couple bags full of canned goods, including
some Turkey TV dinners, I got up to help him, to which he urged me not
to bother. He said I looked way too comfortable to disturb. I relented
and started flipping through the channels looking for something good
to watch, while I heard him fumbling his things away.

"Hey Wendy?" he called from the kitchen. "You watching something?"

"Not really," I answered around a mouthful of popcorn. "Why?"

"Well I picked up a movie while I was out. Wondered if you wanted to
watch it."

"Sure, what is it?" I asked.

"Terminator 2," he replied almost apologetically.

"I shoulda known it'd be a guy flick!" I called back in mock
frustration.

"Well we don't have to watch it if there's something else on TV you'd
rather see," he suggested, popping his head into the room. "I can
watch it later. I've seen it before anyway."

Brad had a boyish look to him despite his 24 years. He shaved his dark
hair down to mere stubble, and grew a goatee, and had a few tattoos on
his arms to make himself seem tough I suppose. Overall I'd describe
his physique as... cuddly.

"I don't mind," I said. "I was just kidding with you. I'm an action
sorta girl." I told him smiling and endowing the last part with
dripping innuendo.

He grinned again and said, "Cool!"

Before long, we were both sitting on the couch listening to Sara
Conner's droning opening narration. The room was a little on the chill
side, and I wrapped my blanket tighter around me. By the time the
opening credits were rolling amid the flickering flames, I'd offered
Brad a portion of my blanket and we were side by side in bodily
contact.

By the time of the first chase scene with the big truck in the LA
canals, Brad had leaned back against the arm of the couch, and I had
leaned my back onto his chest. He placed his arms around me, under my
own, so that his hands were resting on my tummy. As we watched the
movie I hid my delight as I felt his hands creep up my torso toward my
chest.

I sighed, 'Mmmm' when he cupped my left breast in his right palm and
gave a gentle squeeze. I grabbed his other hand and firmly but slowly
pushed it down between my legs. There he squeezed and I felt his
fingers probe against me through the loose, soft fabric of my sweat
pants and my panties.

He then slipped his hands inside my track pants and could feel my
wetness seeping through my panties. When he started to rub me through
the fabric, I began to get really horny, pressing my hips against him,
and lifting my sweatshirt up over my head. I wasn't wearing a bra.

He kept rubbing my clit through the fabric, creating a good deal of
friction. I came once just from that, contorting my body and letting
out a husky cry that almost startled myself, after all the nearly
silent panting.

I then sat up and turned around on the couch, still kneeling. I glared
at him with my most potent 'come-fuck-me' look, my big brown doe-eyes
smoldering. I tossed my top onto the floor, and pushed my sweat pants
down off my hips, alternating one side and then the other.

He was fumbling with his belt, grinning ear to ear. I helped him tug
them down and then like a ravening whore I dove onto his straining
cock with my mouth, bobbing my head quickly. He massaged his fingers
through my hair, and even pressed on the back of my head pushing
deeper into my throat. I complied, slowing my pace to deep-throat him,
squeezing his cock head with my throat.

I then resumed my quick rate, determined to get him to come in my
mouth. I was rewarded after only a dozen more pulls, as he thrust his
hips up, and then relaxed as the jets of warm cum slid directly down
my throat. I wanted to make a good impression.

When he was finished his little body tremors and I'd licked the last
drop from the tip, I wiped my mouth slowly and asked him he'd like to
fuck me. You can probably imagine the look on his face. I guess
thoughts of Sue didn't really enter the picture at this point.

He got up and told me to, 'Wait right there'.

"Hold that thought," he called out while he raced to retrieve a
condom. I got comfortable while waiting for him, laying back on the
short couch, and taking down my panties. I placed my one leg over the
arm of the couch and wriggled into a near prone position, my bald
pussy open and inviting. I was very aware how slutty it would make me
look.

By the time he got back, his cock was already getting chubby again. He
looked at me waiting for him, and started to sweat. I smiled, and
beckoned him most demurely, while Sara Conner continued her break from
the mental hospital behind him.

When he got near enough I reached out and began to stroke his cock.
While I did this, he bent down to finger my smooth pussy. He'd been
dreaming about that for some time I gathered, no doubt since the towel
incident. He was ready to go in no time. I was in the mood to really
show off, so I grabbed the open condom from him and put it in my
mouth. Ignoring the spicy taste of spermicide, I placed my mouth over
his hardened cock and rolled it on with my lips and tongue.

When I got to the base I performed a long sucking withdrawal, to make
sure it was on secure. I then kissed the tip, and with a sweet smile I
said, "Time to fuck me, stud."

He wasted no time, getting down onto his knees on the carpet so that
his cock was at the right level. He held it in place while he leaned
forward and then let it go as it slid into my slippery folds,
disappearing up and into me. He grasped my hips as he rocked his body
back and forth, alternately burying and revealing his shaft in my
body.

We fucked nice and slow like that for a while, just listening to our
own sighs and the gunplay on the flickering TV. He squeezed my tits,
and I held onto his arms. I looked him in the eye and enjoyed the
sensation of fucking another woman's man again. I had tried not to,
but I was now a victim of circumstance.

"Talk to me Brad," I demanded. "Tell me how I feel."

"God, you feel fucking great," he gushed.

"Do you like fucking me?" I prompted, smiling mischievously.

"What do you think?" he laughed. "I love fucking you Wendy. God damn
it, I love fucking you," he asserted, picking up speed.

"How much do you love fucking me?" I probed naughtily, feeling the
slowly building tension of another orgasm waiting to be released.

"Mmmmm, ummmmmmph," he replied, plunging into me harder. My breasts
were starting to sway as his body began to pound against mine.

"If you love --fucking me-- Brad, --do it hard. Harder!
As--hard--as--you--want," I urged through gritted teeth.

Well that did it. He was drilling me hard and fast, and I was bucking
my hips against him. I could hear the slapping of skin on skin over
the sounds of the movie. I encircled my hands at the back of his neck
as he leaned forward with the momentum of his thrusting. I moaned like
a whore with each pound.

"I'm-uh--coming!" I shouted unnecessarily as my pussy clamped and
squeezed around his rapidly thrusting cock. With a loud triumphant,
'Oh, yeeeahhh!' he blasted his load into his rubber. I felt the hot
sensations inside me as he did, the sparkling and flickering effect of
my orgasm flashing through my brain.

He ground his pelvis against me, pressing his forehead to my breast. I
locked my legs around his waist.

"Brad?" I asked like a little girl. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"
He squeezed my tits again and replied, 'Oh yeah.'

So suffice to say, we fucked yet again later that night, beginning in
the spoon position and then switching to doggie style, and he did me
again first thing in the morning, pushing inside me before I'd even
opened my eyes. Later we showered together. I guess He wanted to make
the most of his time with me while Sue was out of town. I didn't mind,
until of course Sunday when she was due to come back. He really cooled
off that morning when his lust-clouded mind started to subside and he
realized his girlfriend's return was imminent.

This was the test. Could I live with a woman I'd so deeply
disrespected? I regretted doing it many times over that day, but that
didn't change it. Brad and I were pretty distant from each other that
day, often occupying separate areas of the house. I figured my face
would have guilt written all over it.

In actual fact, she didn't seem to catch on, and Brad was as cool as
they come. So I'd gotten away with it. That time.

The whole situation had scared some sense back into me, so I began to
scope out some other men on campus as a less risky way to indulge
myself. Above all I wanted to keep things low key. Discreet. I knew
Brad wouldn't be bragging at least.

So that's when I met the Armstrong brothers, and they were team
players. And I'm not just talking football.