This is a continuation of my last story. If you simply want to spend an afternoon in your bed reading a story in leisure, then go ahead. But if you really want to echo with my thoughts, understand my language, then you should read part one before this.
Wikipedia defines 'slut' as someone, a woman who is of loose morals and engages in promiscuity. It categorises a woman as someone with multiple sexual partners. It never began as something perverse. In the 14th century, it started as a term to refer to a dirty, untidy woman and somewhere in the 20th century, it began being used as a term to define a sexually promiscuous woman.
The funny part is that it refers to only woman even now. As in, it does not include men within its definition. I believe it should. Women can be sluts. Men can be sluts. Anyone can be one. Slut is not a derogatory term anymore. It is not restricted by genders anymore. It is a universal adjective. It should be worn with pride. It is but a way of life. Being a slut is a challenge; it is a slap in the face of the age-old society that believes that monogamy is the way of life. Life is not defined by some 1000-year-old sermon laid down by men posing as Gods. The 21st century living is living by your own definition.
It is living without limits. It is finding who you are, accepting your life, fate and desires and giving in to it. Morals don't matter, it is just a catch word for people to use to shame people who are different to them. The definition of morals has changed many times over the years. It has changed to accommodate the dynamic nature of the society it is based up on. Morals at one point meant duelling for your king and country. Before that, it meant serving and protecting the women of your tribe and raping women from rival tribes because women are the cradle of life. In the industrial age, it meant holding down a job and raising a family. Now, among all the cacophony going about in the world, I'm not sure what morals are right and what are not.
So, find yourself. Sculpt yourself. No one can define you, least of it all, a bunch of texts written a thousand years ago.
I found myself through my father's driver. He shattered my inhibitions. He showed me that sometimes self-restraint is pointless. He exposed me to limitless living.
He unwittingly set me on a path from which there was no return. I'm a slut now. I go down on my knees and blow men willingly, without them ever asking. I enjoy being on all fours, letting them have their way with me. I wear panties and flash men shamelessly in every situation. I walk around with a dildo up my ass when I can't find a decent cock to ride. I enjoy being dominated by men of all ages. I enjoy being cummed on by multiple men, enjoy being treated as a personal fucktoy.
See, I'm a slut. Plain and simple. I have my morals. I've developed them from scratch to suit me and my needs.
When I started out, I wanted to feel like a woman. I wore panties and I walked like one. I shaved my legs and kept myself smooth. I hid my cock under layers of clothes so that I'd feel more like a woman. I dreamt of having a man between my legs, to take me deep and hard and make me squeal like a woman.
I want more now. I don't just want to be a woman; I want to be the woman. I want to be the woman men ogle at. I want to be the woman men would dream of being with. I want to be the woman men would desire to spread and fuck.
He had me for 6 months. He fucked me every which way possible in that period. I never said no. I never hesitated to open my legs. I took his seed every time like an obedient slut.
Every day he fucked me often and he fucked me hard. I took his seed on every occasion I could find; the car, in the backseat and on the bonnet on moonless nights. In my home, on my parents' bed and on every other space we could find from the kitchen table to the luxurious sofas my dad had paid a fortune to procure. On the terrace on cloudless nights. By the side of the river on the soft, green grass. He would gift me panties that I'd wear for him. He enjoyed stuffing them on my mouth while fucking me. He loved it when I went down on him. He enjoyed it every time I took his member and stuffed it down my throat. Most of all, he loved cumming all over my face, making me feel like a slut.
You see, I was his fucktoy. But even fucktoys want better lives.
He helped define who I was. He defined my limitlessness. And so, I decided one day that I wanted more. My identity wasn't born. It was being born. I found that I could not be anything more in that place. I needed a new environment to enable me to be more of myself.
