Some sluts have a short half-life, as our girl is about to find out. But Misty is in it for the fun; for the pleasure she can get out of her new, exciting lifestyle. She will deal with whatever consequences come along, tomorrow. But, as when she was a teenager, tomorrow is very far away for this middle-aged MILF.
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Summer term had arrived, and the trip that Misty Reynolds had planned with her son never happened. Instead, she was ready to send David off to his Aunt Patty's on the bus, eager for time alone with DeShawn, whom she considered her boyfriend, now. The past few weeks had been uneventful, and she was practically vibrating with need. DeShawn had moved in, even before they decided mutually to send David away. The two young men had formed a strange kind of bond the evening that Misty had come home so late. It was a bond of common concern for her, but she didn't realize that. She was happy to see them talk to one another. David could see that his mother was going down a wrong path, but he hoped the eighteen-year-old would protect her, at least. He'd made his feelings known about the older boy. DeShawn, for his part, was torn between concern for Misty's health and a desire to use her for his own ends, but knew enough to bide his time until the whelp was gone. He fucked Misty each night until both of them were spent, but he had bigger plans for the little housewife.
They put David on the bus, and DeShawn wasted no time. He had his hand on Misty's leg as they pulled away from the bus station. She smiled, happy that her man couldn't keep his hands off her. She was like a teenager again. Any time she was alone with DeShawn, she reverted instantly to the slutty persona she'd adopted.
"I should have worn a skirt," she told him, and grinned. "You want me to find a quiet place and stop, baby?" She purred softly, "I could give you a blowjob."
DeShawn stroked her thigh and lit up a rolled joint he had pulled from his shirt pocket, grinning as he did so. 'Damn, this slut was so hot to go!'
"Baby, don't smoke in the car, please? You know it messes with Davey's asthma," she said, waving her arm around. "Besides, you're gonna get us arrested."
He took a deep drag, held the blunt out to her lips, and said, "Relax, slut. He won't be back here until we say he can come back."
The mention of the word 'slut' made Misty instantly wet. She inhaled deeply, then blew the smoke out over the course of the next block. By the time they'd gone half a mile she was feeling the hit, down where it mattered. "Fuck, baby," she said, "I need that dick real bad. Why don't I pull over?" She dropped one hand into her lap and began to fondle herself through her jeans, craving a quick orgasm to take the edge off.
They were in the middle of town. DeShawn laughed at her. "You crazy, you horny slut!" He paused, looking at her. "I know where we can go. It ain't far. Take a right up here."
Misty did as she was told. These days, she always did as she was told. This eighteen-year-old she'd found was almost too good to be true, for a 49-year-old with her newly discovered needs. 'A nice big dick, and he can go all night,' she thought. 'Fuck yeah! I'll do whatever.'
In truth, Misty desperately craved what she'd had that night at James's bar; to be used again and again, without having to think. Once she'd gotten over her initial guilt the next morning, she reasoned that it was probably the best time she'd ever had, apart from meeting DeShawn. 'And, hey - it hadn't done any harm to anyone,' she thought when reliving that night in her head. She hadn't caught any diseases, she'd had a good time, and DeShawn had actually told her he was proud of her, after all was said and done. She was proud to think of herself as 'his' slut.
"Gimme another hit off that joint," she told him, reaching for it. "I wanna get loaded!"
"That's my slut," he grinned, leaning in to shotgun the smoke from his lips, then taking it back into his mouth. By the time he told her to turn into the rural property filled with junk cars and broken motorcycles, they were both giggling hysterically. She slammed on the brakes.
"Whoa!" Misty whooped, still laughing. She looked around once they were stopped. "What the fuck is this place?" There was no one outside, but loud hip-hop boomed from inside the tiny dilapidated house. DeShawn grinned.
"We gonna get down with some brothas I know," he told her.
She was instantly intrigued. "Yeah?" Her hand slipped down to her crotch, rubbing it absentmindedly as DeShawn climbed out of the car. He leaned in the window and told her to sit tight; he would be right back. Then he disappeared inside the house.
Misty resumed idly rubbing herself. Her pussy was buzzing with need, now that she sensed an opportunity to get fucked. "God, how horny can one person get?" she mused. She could already feel an orgasm building. As her fingers stroked over the denim, she closed her eyes and imagined DeShawn's big dick grazing her pussy lips, drawing forth her wetness before plunging deep inside her. "Fuck," she whispered, working her hips against her own hand. She wondered how many 'brothas' were inside, and if they would find her attractive enough to play with.
DeShawn was gone a long time. She was close; so close to a climax, but she began to worry. She checked her phone. It had been more than twenty minutes. Opening the door, she got out and pulled her shirt into shape. Her other hand had been rubbing her nipples, making them harder and even more sensitive. She could see their outlines beneath the heavy cotton. With trembling fingers, she combed her shoulder-length hair back away from her face, and slipped a scrunchee from her right wrist to contain it. She stepped up onto the stoop and raised her hand to knock. She heard voices, the sound of laughter.
When a man opened the door, he stared at the little blonde. "Hey, darlin', what you doing out here?" he asked, stepping back for her to enter.
"I was looking for DeShawn," she said meekly, then stepped inside.
Most of the voices inside quieted immediately. Misty looked around. There were two men sitting on an old couch with a young black girl between them. She was leant over, sucking one man's erect cock as the other played between her outstretched legs. Another man stood off to one side, watching them until Misty came in. He then directed his gaze to her, fondling the black cock that was semi-erect. Someone was in the kitchen, still talking loudly. The music boomed from a radio on the floor in a corner. This was a flop-house, she realized. There was a handful of assorted pills strewn across a small table.
"Hi," she said tentatively. "Is DeShawn in here?" She hadn't seen him. She looked at the girl, who glared at her before going back to sucking the dick she was still holding.
