Born To Ch 07

I know I sound like a slut. I realize it may sound like I think everyone is somewhat of a slut.

Let me be more clear. I only know that I am a slut. And I know that there are many other people who believe and feel like they are sluts. And I like those people and like to spend time with them.

It's too simple really. I like to get naked and I like to be with other people who like to get naked. Being naked invokes something deep in me – it always has, since my earliest memories.

It was really hard to come to grips with my burning desire to get naked and to feel sex.

I just always wanted to do that. I always wanted to fuck.

Even when I was fighting it the hardest and able to stave off the impulses by focusing hard on my work or my family or friends, lust was smoldering just below the surface.

I can only hold it off so long before it gets hold of me and I have to go there.

I speak as if I have now let go and given myself totally over to sex. It's really more complicated than that.

I have a day job. Even sex requires far more of other kinds of work than one can imagine. I feel like a slut - not a sluggard.

You will see how hard I work.

The best way to describe my new release is to say I found out, and became totally convinced of and comfortable in the knowledge that there are many others of both sexes besides me, all around me, on this street, in the next room, maybe you, who long for fully free fucking.

The world is full of people who are right now – right now as you and I think together over these words - taking off their clothes, stroking their dicks, fingering their pussies, fucking, fellating, sucking, swallowing, lying together cum covered, cum filled, cum sharing.

See? That could be me.

Now.

True? That could be you.

Now.

Plus, that could be us.

Now.

What if I want to, and dare?

Suppose you desire it and are brave?

When and where two of us choose what's right for us now, it is so...?

Again, I discovered and fell in love with the knowledge that there are many others of both sexes besides me who long for fully free fucking. I just wasn't hanging out with them - yet.

I had grown up in a world where sluts weren't allowed and the people I married, and most of the people I spent my time with didn't dare open up about it.

I am not saying at all that there weren't sexed men and women around me. I am not even suggesting that those I married were not sluts – it's just that in that framework, sex didn't come up prominently.

If sex was ever mentioned, it turned embarrassing, or turned into a joke, or was acknowledged as a normal function then quickly put back in its place – where it continued to smolder and excite all manner of delight and chaos.

Fortunate indeed are the friends and lovers and spouses that find the way to opening up and bringing sex out into their lives to play with and to share.

Unfortunately, in my home town, sex was already indicted, convicted, and sentenced to sublimation and destructive sublimation was the only acceptable way to get it back into its place when it burst into the open – which it invariably did.

We just never seemed to get the possibility of letting sex out to play and letting it stay out to play.

So, as I said to start with, I am a slut. I always was. So sex would invariably well up in me and erupt out into my carefully constructed world.

That always wreaked havoc and bad things invariably happened while the lust that had spilled out into the public was stuffed back into its dark secret place.

See, sex was fine, but it belonged in a safe, hidden drawer with only one other person – my spouse.

Notice that it belonged always to one other person – never just to me, nor was I ever that one person to whom it belonged. Isn't that a little odd?

It was far safer to have a spouse to help guard this thing and keep it under wraps. I couldn't be trusted to handle it. Society needed the help of a dedicated guardian to protect the village from me. The village elders were wise.

Nonetheless, my slut nature burst through periodically.

In this world where sex belonged in a drawer underneath clean, folded underwear, a budding slut cheats, lies, runs around, runs away, and eventually disappears into the chronicles of hometown lore as a whispered name, an example of moral failure, a figure of warning to the young, and, invariably, yes invariably, a seed of secret attraction to the other unnamed budding sluts who are finding it impossible to keep their panties on when the lights go out, or their hands off their privates when their shorts come down.

Every whispered story I heard made me wonder, what must that be like? Why is she so brave? How did she know how to do that? I want to try.

One thing about open sex with others is how everyone really quickly moves into their own place to fuck, only vaguely aware of the others fucking intently around them. See, it stays my own even as I share.

Certainly we are aware of the others and are fed by their openness, but we quickly focus on our own pleasure.

Masturbating, fucking alone, was heavenly, and still it only got me to a certain level of the fuck experience.

Fucking another, given the other was assigned by society, and even though the other was not The You, was divine, but it left me a key with an unanswered lock.

Watching others fuck opened my eyes, and brought along both my self-fucking and my sharing with one other partner.

Finally, fucking friends, and friends of friends, and feeding the frenzy of frenetic feelings frothing like fresh milk filling a farmer's pail – ah, this is fucking fueled by freedom! and this fucking feeds freedom.

Do you want me to stay now?

Will you stay?

I'll show you mine if you show me you. I'll show you me if you'll show me yours.

But no, that is just more of that conditional diatribe from which we emerged, and to which we will likely grow again, unless we remain true to what we are.

Here, I show you me here and now for free. Just as I am. I don't require you to do anything. Leave if you must.

Stay if you may.

So, now, watch.

Here is my dress. I hand it to you.

Being a lover of Joe Cocker, I leave not my hat on, but I leave my ankle-strap shoes on.

Do with them as you please.

I free my tits into your air. Smell me yet? That soft, subtle wilted perfume tit mixed from this morning? I greet my nipples with a twist.

Let me steady myself on your arm. Wait, now, there. Free from my panties.

I will hold them right here until you ask for them, or just take them.

Meet my pussy.

Here, let me just spread her and primp her a bit. She loves this. She knows what's coming after we fun some.

Smell me now? Not so subtle?

Okay, I am going to fuck you now.

Join me if you like.