“You could respect my humanity by getting me wet the way I tell you I need it,” I said loudly, frustrated that he was trying to be a HuMaNiTaRiAn inside of our marriage. Honestly, he sounded like he was suffering from Overly Online Syndrome. He listened to everyone on earth except me. Times are changing, ugh! A hard rains a gonna fall my guy. I cannot believe I made a vow, a series of them, to him. What in the world was I thinking?!
He reiterated that it was a boundary he wasn’t going to cross and to please take degrading words off the menu. The menu! I couldn’t believe it. The menu was just dry noodle al dente, nothing else. Give a bitch some sauce, bitch! I was furious because lately he had a way of making everything sound like he’d grown and changed and was sharing his growth and feelings when really he wanted to do everything his way and used growth as a cover to bury me. In the past, after some drinks, he’d occasionally spit out some very filthy words as he stroked me to buy time for his whiskey dick to recover. It was exciting and I loved it. Nobody had ever talked to me that way, and I thought getting married would bring lots more, but it all went away, and he was left to rid himself of the problem of my needs. My dirty filthy slut needs that were getting more insistent that I be treated like the slut I was, called out for it, word for word.
“John, it’s……” I was watching him hope I’d give up. “Nevermind, I hear what you’re saying, I hear it,” I said about his boundaries and about the resolve in his eye, the look that said he was bored of this talk but would patiently engineer his way to my agreement.
His eyes relaxed, and I felt the ground shift inside me. If my dull, cold, appropriately behaved husband wouldn’t give me what I needed, I would find someone who would fucking love to do it for him.
John went outside to mow the lawn and I went upstairs to shower and shave my pussy. I always kept it short, but today it was all coming off. I shaved in the shower, then afterwards applied coconut oil and shaved again, getting every inch perfectly smooth. My pussy throbbed at what was to come. It gave me the power I needed to go on an adult friend finder site, make an account and post an ad. I was very blunt and truthful, and felt an incredible sense of sexual power doing it. I rolled around naked on the bed taking selfies. The sound of the mower was like a vibrator. I had slept with many men when I was young and single and had loved ending up in a different bed every other night. Then after a while I thought I wanted marriage, and I guess I did. I’d cheated on John in the beginning, but as we grew closer I stopped and felt loyalty. Now the confines of marriage made cheating seem very exciting. I came on the bedspread, moaning and calling myself a filthy cheating slut as the mower passed under the window.
It did not take long to find Pete, a train engineer who was kind and jolly and also looked me over with the most lust filled eyes anyone has ever put on me. We’d exchanged a few messages and met up within hours at a bar about half a mile down the street from my house. It was a gorgeous late spring night and we sat outside in the covid era street seating. It was full and bouncing with fun. I’d told my husband I was meeting a friend for sangrias, which he disliked, and waved buhbye. He seemed a little dejected to not be invited, poor fella, but did not use his words, surprise. There was good basketball to watch so he did that.
I was really not expecting to hit it off with anyone enough right away to fuck them, but I wanted to feel desired and have some new things to at least fantasize about. Pete was so easy to talk to and had really big hands, which just sent me. He said he was divorced and had been working a lot during the pandemic. I joked that was my husband’s story too, he just didn’t know it yet. After a fun easy chat over drinks Pete brought up my ad and lamented that I had not been given what I needed. He really seemed bummed for me, and I felt like he saw me and that what I needed was not only doable, it was an exciting prospect to fulfill.
“What would you do about it,” I asked him with my hand covering my mouth secretively, my eyes laughing as they darted back and forth. I’d never told anyone about this problem, and here I was discussing it within earshot of people who could be my neighbors. I would’ve worried yesterday but today I honestly didn’t care if anyone saw me. It was getting dark out and we were on our way to connecting.
He covered his mouth too and leaned closer.
“I’d, um, ok this is really bold but I’d take you into the alley and tell you that you were going to be my cheating slut,” he said, his voice lowered and his eyes deep in mine.
“I’ve never cheated on my husband,” I said, smiling and shifting in my seat. Was I glowing? I was so excited. I’d never cheated while married, so, technically true.
“Yeah I can see that. You’re a good wife, so loyal that you’re invisible. He can’t see how just the word slut gives you goosebumps all over, makes you pant a little and touch yourself. Did you know?”
I laughed and shook my head. It was kind of humiliating to be this obviously horny, but I liked it. I was so ready that I pulled out a scrunchie and twisted my hair up into a bun. I’d put in my ad that the first man to collar me was going to get it.
“Mmmmm, that neck.” He paused, gauging me. I finished my drink.
“Alley?”
I was buzzing like a neon sign. I stood up and casually walked towards our destination. He put money on the table for the bill and followed me. I turned the corner, walked a few yards to a little nook between two buildings and stepped in. It wasn’t far from another bar’s kitchen door, which was noisy with music and servers talking to the cook making burgers and fries. It was a warm night and I had on little light weight denim overalls that were cut short, tan camisole, a dainty necklace, and tan wedge heels made of rope and strappy canvas. I had on my wedding band and looked like I could be on a date night with my husband. He wouldn’t invite me to the alley though, touch my arm, run his finger up it to my shoulder, trace my collar bone, up my neck to my chin, then gently kiss my lips, pause to feel the wave of desire shudder through me, whisper into my mouth that cheating on your husband like this is what real sluts do. He wouldn’t pull a black leather collar out of his jacket, ask if I was ready, watch me nod yes, and put it around my neck, fastening it with just enough give that it could move, but tight enough that I very much knew it was there. He wouldn’t give the D ring a tug and say I was so fucking hot, and touch my lips and chin as I flushed.
“Mmmmm, Pete, I can’t tell you how good it feels. I just… ” I was at a loss as he breathed against my neck.
My back was pressed against the wall like he was pinning me but it was just my body weight holding me in place as the rest of my body floated. He was so close, one arm on the wall, the other hand gently skimming over my body, spreading the electricity everywhere he touched me. He cupped his hand around the collar and, with the lightest squeeze of my throat, said into my ear that he had a box of condoms and a very hard dick. I was just jello now.
“Touch my dick, slut,” he said, giving my throat another gentle squeeze.
I reached out and felt his cock through his pants. It was straight up, rock hard. The head seemed big. He moaned as I felt it, the shaft throbbing in my grip, and pulled him closer.
“Fuck,” he said in a long low tone, kissing my lips and waiting to feel my body respond.
I found his thigh and pushed my pussy to it. He pressed it into me and we kissed. He took my hands and gently lifted them, held them against the wall. Somebody walked by with their dog, chattering on their phone. I whimpered, grinding on his thigh, pinned like a little bitch, as he breathed into my ear and asked if I wanted him to fuck my slut pussy right here, or in his truck, or at his house. I chose truck. He smiled and tugged on my collar, took my hand and we walked back onto the busy street past the packed bar and down the block to where he was parked.
I was in another dimension from being treated like this. Never had I been collared, not even with a choker from the mall. Now I was this stranger’s slut, about to fuck him. We passed by an acquaintance of mine. I nodded and kept going. Does a real slut even care who knows. Collars are another thing that John would never do in the bedroom, since toys and outfits made him feel defensive, like they were his competition or something. Little did he know.
I was drenched in pussy juice. This is what I needed so bad. Being collared set the wildest part of me free and now I was going to take this stranger’s dick, in his vehicle, two hours after we met. He opened my door and helped me in. It was a big new truck with a step to get into it. I must have buckled up and we must have chatted about something but I don’t remember. I was throbbing and under the spell around my neck. I felt owned by and obedient to him. We drove to an empty spot he knew next to the railroad tracks, just about a mile from where we’d been. A big long train was on the way.
“Well that’s my ride, gotta go,” he joked.
“Take me with!” I said, laughing, and leapt towards him. We kissed passionately across the console, then I pulled my overalls down and pulled my top off. I was fearless underneath.
“Hop on out, you slut,” he said as he opened his door. I climbed out my side and shed my last clothes, wearing only shoes and the collar when we met at the back. My pussy was drooling a slick rope of wetness. He looked me over with wild lust as he put the cargo bed door down and lifted me onto it. He kissed me and squeezed my tits, then stood back and looked at my naked body again. The train arrived, the whistle blew a few times. Pete waved to the conductor. I felt so dirty I couldn’t believe it. I grinded my pussy and begged him to please please please fuck me because i needed it so bad.