Diary of a Super Slutty Slut Ch. 03

*** A personal note to whoever enjoys these stories. First of all, thank you. I recently re-read everything after a long hiatus and honestly think they're terrible. I hate them. I've decided to make this a lot more like a diary and I like this new style as I am articulating my feelings and fears as a submissive, and human. I think I just ignored all that stuff before and only wanted to think about the fucking. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy.***

*****

He pokes at my breast. No, that's not entirely accurate. He pokes at my nipple. Pinching crudely, "What you doing babe?" I put my hand over his and press his entire hand into my breast, squeezing, massaging, thinking please take the hint as I moved my hand away and allowed him to take over.

Back to the crude pinching that always feels so... demeaning. I push his hand away and instantly he's back at it. I swat him away this time and cross my arms. Covering every inch of these pathetically tiny tits that I can.

"Why don't you ever let me touch you? You never have. Who are you saving it for?" He demands.

Because your touch is demeaning?! Because you've never failed to remind me of just how unsatisfying you find my body and when you touch me like that I want to scream in revulsion, I think.

What I say is "I don't know, I just don't like it. You'd think that if for the last 15 years I've been pushing you away you'd take the hint and stop trying."

"You're MY wife," he emphasizes the word 'my' and it's like a punch to the gut. "I want to touch you."

Because what he wants is more important than how I want to be touched. I cross my arms more tightly across my chest and stare straight ahead.

About thirty seconds pass and he starts adjusting his boner in his sweatpants, "look babe."

Fucking Christ! Exasperated and not wanting to fight I relent, "go close the door."

Eagerly he does. He gets back in bed and tries to touch my nipples again. I swat him away and tell him to take off his pants. I crawl between his legs and position myself in the "reverse cowgirl" position. I spit on my hand use it to lubricate myself before inserting him. I think of every other man that's been between my thighs in the last 10 years and wish for any one of them at this moment. I start to rub my clit as I fantasize about the last one. Mr. Big Dick, I remember the surprise I felt the first time I was on top, how he reached depths inside me I didn't know existed. I can almost feel him now. I start thrusting myself a bit more enthusiastically onto my husband's dick. I rub my clit and close my eyes and travel in space and time to any place but here. I'm in any other man's bed. I feel my arousal building, I might just be able to enjoy this, I think as I let out a soft moan. I feel his hands grip my hips and squeeze. I hear him grunt his release a mere 3 minutes after we started.

No orgasm for me, but at least it was quick, I think as I grab one of the unmatched socks I keep next to the bed for this purpose and stuff it between my legs to catch the mess.

I pull my pants back on and go back to my nightly routine, keeping the sock in place until I wake the next morning. When I shower I clean extra vigorously, slipping soapy fingers inside myself trying to cleanse the memory of the last night's events.

My husband's an asshole, he'll tell you that himself. He tells me that every time I complain about it. He'll say "I told you that when I met you, babe." Like it's an excuse.

"I know, but you're supposed to be an asshole to everyone but me," I reply.

He laughs.

I think he's just selfish. So consumed with his own needs that he doesn't realize the hurt that he inflicts. Things could be worse, they have been worse. So, I think of the children, and I stay. Hoping it's the right decision. Hoping that routine and stability and the good times will make it all right.

It's been 3 years since I cheated on him. Mr. Big Dick. He was a real mind fuck, so when he ghosted me after a year of weekly, semi-routine, hookups I had one quick rebound and then stopped for a while. Life gets busy. I fell into the routine. I don't go around chasing dick.

At work I was promoted to a very different position than the one I was in previously. One with a lot more responsibility and requiring a knowledge of a completely different set of regulations than what I was currently working with. So, I dove into my work and lost the itch for a while. With the responsibility came perks and freedom. I was given a company car, computer, cell phone, and the freedom to decide my schedule on a daily basis.

I've been doing this job long enough that's it's become routine. I am finding myself getting frustrated with... everything. My husband tries less frequently to please me, or really just to be an active participant in our lives. I feel like I am his mother. Caretaker. It's exhausting.

I'm bored.

My job involves, among other things, visiting businesses that are licensed by our agency and ensuring they are in compliance with our regulations. It's at one of these businesses where my next adventure begins.

My assigned vehicle is in for repairs so my supervisor picks me up and I ride with him for the day. One of the businesses we stop in has just brought on some new help, so they invite the guy to sit in on our review so he can learn. I'm a bitch. I start off hard so they can appreciate it when I'm soft and give them a break when I find their mistakes. The new guy starts asking thoughtful questions so I decide to help him out. I email him some documents that will make his job a bit easier.

I'm lost in thought when he says to me, flirtatiously, "I have a feeling we'll be seeing you around again." This surprises me. I look at him, appraising him, and he smiles. He's... attractive. I didn't really notice at first. We usually only audit businesses once a year, unless there's a problem. I return the smile and say "Maybe I'll stop in and see how you're doing in a few months."

We finish up our review and I promise to email one last document. About an hour later, when I find the document he needs, I email it to him. He immediately replies "Thank you so much for all your help. You're an angel. Here's my number, you can call or text me anytime day or night." I feel my face and body flush at this compliment. Is he flirting with me?

I spend the weekend fantasizing about this flirtation. I am sitting in my car, waiting for my next assignment, when my mind starts to wander. My hands begin to travel my body as I wonder what it would be like to be with another man again. How will he touch me? What does he taste like? What does he smell like? I reach my hands into my pants to gauge my arousal and find myself soaked. I let my fingers play in the sloppy wetness of it and before I realize exactly what I'm doing I am rubbing myself to climax. Fingers furiously circling my clit I finish quite uneventfully. I am myself overcome with exhaustion and convince myself that he was just being polite. I've read too much into his comments and should forget all about it.

On Monday I feel a renewed sense of boldness. I think of one more thing I could email him without seeming like a desperate creep, so I do. Then I text him to let him know I sent him one more thing that I forgot to mention and to let me know if he has any questions.

"Thanks, you're a sweetheart." He replies instantly.

"Nah, I'm just killing time," I say.

"Well, what else could you do to waste time?" This is the moment I realize that I was correct. This dude wants to fuck me and I want to let him.

"Hmmm, I wouldn't call this a waste of time."

"Oh no, why not?"

"I have a feeling this is going to be a productive conversation. Do you have any ideas?"

"Well, you could come show me what you want," he says.

I'm on fire. We continue the flirtation, which leads to an in depth conversation about everything sexual. We make vague plans to meet on Wednesday.

When I wake up Tuesday I feel a desperate sense of urgency. I shave everything except for a neatly trimmed patch of hair on my mound. I text him as soon as I leave the house and tell him I need to see him today. We agree on a time and he texts me his address.

The house is cold but when he kisses me I no longer notice. He tastes like cigarettes. The sex is rushed and terrible. His penis is unimpressive, and I try not to hold that against him. I don't need a large penis to feel satisfied, it's just that a small one makes me self-conscious. I wonder the whole time if my vagina feels like a gaping cavern to him. He rolls me on my side and spreads my ass cheeks, "can I go in the back?" Why the fuck didn't he mention anal during any of our conversation? I would have prepped. I tell him no. He pauses, then asks again. "No, what the fuck?" I reply. "OK, ok, ok," he says. Then thrusts into my gaping cavern of a vagina for about 60 seconds until he cums.

"I came," he says apologetically. "Sorry if it was too fast."

"It's fine. You're fine," I assure him while he runs to the bathroom to discard the condom.

I quickly dress while he's gone then run into the bathroom as he exits. I wash my face, with water, why is there no soap in here? I wonder to myself. When I exit the bathroom I say "I'm leaving. Thank you for the sex," as warmly as I can. I smile. My head is reeling. What the fuck am I doing? I'm getting too old for this.

I stop at the nearest convenience store and buy a pack of cigarettes. I haven't smoked in years.

The next two weeks pass quickly. I text him a few times but we don't make plans to hook up again. I feel like he set me on fire and just walked away. Desire is oozing out of every pore of my being.

I drunk text Mr. Big Dick's number one night. I don't identify myself but I just say I'm looking for an old friend, is this Mr. Big Dick's number. I don't get a reply. Either he's got a new number or just isn't looking to catch up with old friends.

New Year's Eve I start thinking about a guy I hooked up with forever ago. I was a dick to him, and stood him up a million times. I don't really remember why, and I don't really think about it too long before I google him and send him a message through his website. "Noah, I was thinking about our old sessions and feeling nostalgic so I thought I'd get in touch. Oh yeah, I'm a bit more reliable now." I leave my old slutty email address and my work cell number. I don't expect to hear back.

When I turn on my phone on January 2 I am elated to see a text waiting for me.

"Hey, it's Noah." My heart stops for just a moment. I am reluctant to reply right away because I remember that he, too, is married. I don't want to intrude at an inconvenient time, and it is still early.

I get my first stop of the day finished and have some time before going to my second. I check my email before texting Noah and find a short message. "Hey Lana, Good to hear from you. Text me" and his number.

I reply to his text "Hey!" I'm so excited but I don't know what to say. Hopefully the exclamation point conveys my excitement. I've always been awkward. He's never minded before.

"Hey. How are you? Send me a pic, it's been forever."

I've lost weight since we spoke last. I'm still... thick. My thighs still touch. My ass if fucking fat. And kind of saggy now. I take the selfie, gleefully aware of the camera angle. I don't feel the need to hold the camera high to make my face look thinner. I hold it at a lower angle and admire my collar bones. I send it with the note "This is the best I can do, I woke up sick today."

"Oh no, sorry to hear that. What you been up to?"

"Nothing much, staying on the straight and narrow."

"Do you need a master?"

Well, he just gets right to the point. I raise my hand to my mouth and all of the memories come flooding back to me. I burn with desire as I remember the way he used me. "I forgot we played those games," I replied. If I had to speak the words they'd have come out in a breathless whisper.

"Tell me what you've been up to? Your life, work, sex? What are you into now?"

"Still married to an asshole, work is good, and sex has been boring. It's been a few years since I've hooked up with anyone. Nobody like you in even longer."

"That's terrible."

"I want to see youuuuuu."

"See you. Yes, I will. We'll have to set something up soon."

We discuss logistics and realize that lunchtime will work well for both of us, with some planning. He said we'd have to see when I was feeling better.

The week passes quickly. He's attentive, and always horny. He asks for a pic every day. He asks if my slutty cunt is wet and the only acceptable answer is to send him a picture showing him that it is indeed very wet for him. He tells me I'll stop shaving my cunt hair to please him. He tells me I'm going to record short videos for him telling him what a horny slut I am and what filthy things I want him to do to me. This terrifies me. I am terrified to say the words.

It's Monday again before I realize it and I eagerly wait for his first text, which usually comes between 9:30 and 10:00. He asks for his daily pics. He tells me I need to record a video for him. I am parked about ten minutes away from his office on my lunch break. He says ideally I'd send the movie by 1:15 so that he can drain his balls for me. I try, and fail. It's so sunny out today. The humiliation burns in the brightness of the day. I get so mad at him. He sends me a dick pic. He has a beautiful cock. Any other time I'd be elated. Today I'm just so mad. He says to send a pic of my wet cunt. I'm indignant in my frustration. I am right around the corner from his house, we could be fucking right now, but he wants to play camera games. I say "I need... a minute. I'll email you."

It begins to snow and I get the call that they've closed operations early. I need to head home before the roads get bad. As I pull down my street he texts me. I reply "I told you I'd email you. I'm home," and he sends three quick texts after that. I am furious. I reply to him "DO NOT TEXT ME AGAIN UNTIL I EMAIL YOU."

I need some time to process. What the fuck am I doing? Why would he send more texts after I told him I'm home? I decide I need to lay some ground rules. I write an email and decide I should wait 24 hours to send it. It will show him who is in control. I wonder if I'll still want to fuck him if he lets me treat him like this.

I decide in the morning that I should send the email on my lunch break.

He texts me around 11:00 "I didn't hear"

At about 11:30 I reply, "I am incredibly disappointed that you could not honor one simple request." I feel empowered. Also a little sad. I feel like I"m taking control of this situation in a way that is unfamiliar to me.

11:45 he replies, "Goodbye."

I just arrived at the grocery store and was about to head in for some lunchtime sushi. I finish my email, revising it when I come to the realization that I was angry with myself and I felt like I was disappointing him. All of my anger was misdirected. And honestly, when I texted I needed a minute he, like a reasonable human, probably thought I'd send him something. In a minute. Something like the pic I promised. I change the tone a lot, to be less demanding and self-righteous and send it. I am slightly panicked thinking that I finally pushed him too far. I text him "I just emailed you *winking emoji*"

"Why didn't you just say that?" he texts.

"Idk. I get overwhelmed. I feel things before I can put it into words so I just have to step back and process sometimes."

"Where are you?"

"The grocery store."

"Which one?"

"The one around the corner from your place. I have a 2pm appointment."

"Come to me my toy."

"You'll make me late." I'm panicking. I didn't wash my hair today. I even forgot to use dry shampoo. It's warmer than I expected it to be and my feet are sweaty in my shearling clogs. Yes, clogs. The unsexist of all the shoes. But very comfortable. One might even say sensible.

"No I won't. Get here at 1:00, you'll be gone by 1:30 before my assistant returns from her lunch break at 1:45. That's plenty of time."

I finish up my shopping and rush out to the car. I smell my armpits, and my sweaty feet. At least I don't stink, that much. I put on some scented hand lotion and rub it on my body. I'm grateful that I'm not wearing stained underwear. I remember how he liked to smell them. I want to make up an excuse to not meet today. I want to wait until I can be prepared. I fear if I say no now I'll miss my chance. If I say no now maybe I'll never go. I'll just keep making up excuses like I did before. I don't really understand my reluctance. I decide I want this, I need to stop fighting it.

"Well?"

"Sorry, I'm just trying to get out of this store," I lie.

"You coming?"

I double check the travel distances on my GPS. Not like it really matters. I am in control at work. People wait for me. They bend over backwards to be accommodating. "Yes."

The drive over is terrifying. I'm afraid he's not how I remembered. I'm afraid he's gotten a pot belly. He has a shaved head, I assume because he's balding, and I picture him pot-bellied with a half a head of hair. Just a horny pathetic middle aged married guy who is still fucking sluts because he feels like he's entitled to whatever the fuck he wants. My stomach turns. I reach into my pants to feel my cunt and find it is soaked. It's going to be ok, I tell myself.

When I get to his place it's different than I remembered. Less intimidating. He's finished his garage and turned it into a proper studio. He sees me looking around and says "It's nice, right?" It really is, and I tell him so. I look at him and he's beautiful. Not exactly the type I'd go for usually. But attractive, and exactly as he was nearly ten years ago when I saw him last. As he approaches me he pushes my coat back, gesturing for me to take it off, which I do. He wraps his arms around me and hugs me. I press me face into his neck and inhale. He's hard, strong. I feel safe.

He tells me to pull my t-shirt up and show him my tits. I immediately do. He roughly grasps my left breast and squeezes it before taking my nipple into his mouth and biting. I bring my hands to my face and try to hide from this terrifying mix of pleasure and pain. He reaches behind me, into my pants, and shoves his fingers inside my cunt "yes, that's my sloppy went cunt." I moan, reveling in his ownership of me. "Take off your pants," he demands. I do. I wonder if I should take off my panties too, but he only said pants, so I leave them on.

He grabs my hair and pushes me down to my knees "suck your master's cock" he demands. His fly is open but his pants are up. I pull them down and am pleasantly surprised. He has a beautiful cock. It's not the cartoonish coke can cock I wrote of before, but realistically impressive. He used to tease me when I told him that I'd never had anyone bigger. I have now, but I am more than pleased at what I'm about to receive. I am surprised to see a cock ring. I wonder if I don't excite him enough and he thought he'd need assistance staying hard. I don't care. I shake off the insecurity and tell myself that I'm here because he wants me here. And I want to be here. I take him in my mouth eagerly and get to work. Almost immediately he begins skull fucking me. I place both hands at the base of his cock and he tells me to rub his balls. He's trimmed his hair there, and tells me I'm doing good as I try to keep up. "You love that don't you, you little slut?" I try to answer but can't. I can barely think through this assault on my throat. "Mmmm hmmm," I moan around his cock.

"Yes, that's right, you love this thick cock." He's not lying.

He continues his assault for a while before telling me take off my panties. "Give them to me, let me see how wet you are for your master," he demands. I scramble to obey. "Get on your hands and knees." It's only a moment before he's inside me. Plowing through me. I'm screaming in pleasure. "That's it, this is what you wanted isn't it?" He grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back.