Always Your Slut

You told me once that you really have a thing for red underwear. I didn’t forget, I just wanted to make you wait… I planned one day to spring a surprise upon you that would remain forever one of your favourite memories of us.

So I plotted secretly, and you remained totally unaware of my naughty idea. Then you told me that work would be taking you away from me for a few weeks, so that’s when I decided that when you came back, I would give you the best homecoming a man could ever wish for. And I think you’ll agree that it was.

I arranged for you to call me when you were half an hour away from home, under the pretence that I would have drinks and a meal waiting for you. Well, it wasn’t altogether a lie, was it? You certainly made a meal of me…

I heard your car in the driveway and smiled to myself. I felt my pussy moisten at the thought of you, as I imagined the expression on your face when you laid eyes on me. I’d gone to a lot of trouble, but I was confident it wouldn’t go to waste. And let’s face it, to me you’re worth the effort. I heard you call my name as you opened the front door. I remained silent. I wanted you to find me. I was in the bedroom, do you remember?

You knew I would be. I’d been texting you suggestive messages for days telling you how much I was missing you and how much I wanted you. I was lurking behind the bedroom door as you opened it. I imagined your confused expression as your eyes lit upon the bed and I wasn’t there. Your head turned as you took in the room… the candles, the dim lighting. I’d really gone to town. Weeks apart had rendered me very horny and I had no intention of stopping until I’d worn you right out! But I knew you were up to the challenge.

I stepped forward, my heels making no sound on the thick carpet, and placed my hands over your eyes, deliberately pressing my breasts against your back. You moaned, and your arms reached behind you and grabbed me, searching, finding my bottom. You squeezed and caressed, moaning again as you registered that I was wearing French knickers… your favourite. Wait until you see them, I thought.

I led you, still covering your eyes, over to the bed. I turned you to face me, and brushed my hands over your eyelids, gesturing that you should keep them closed. I kissed your parted lips, smelling mint on your breath and darting my tongue in your mouth briefly. I stepped back and admired you.

You wore a sleeveless top which showed off your muscular arms and the tattoo you got as a dare, and had regretted ever since. Your baggy jeans meant my imagination had to do all the work, and I inwardly prayed you were wearing tight white boxers, one of my biggest weaknesses. I approached you once more and undid your belt with a flick of my wrist, then popped open your button fly and rejoiced. Oh yes… could you have been any more perfect?

Your white boxers were taut across your flesh, and even more so across your crotch. For you were already sporting an impressive erection that I couldn’t wait to get my hands, and everything else, on for that matter. Down came your trousers, then I pushed you back on the king size bed to remove them, and your trainers and socks. By this time you’d opened your eyes and clocked what I was wearing. Your eyes bulged, just as I’d known they would. I’d always sworn I’d never wear red underwear, that it was slutty.

I felt like a deer in headlights. You were unable to take your eyes from me, and the feeling was quite mutual. My chest heaved in anticipation of your next move, heaving my heavy breasts up and down. You removed your top, and my pussy further soaked my scarlet knickers. I couldn’t wait to feel your skin against mine, your cock inside me, your lips torturing my neck, alternating soft kisses and sharp bites.

InvitationI removed my bra, and threw it at your feet. You bent to pick it up and I moved over to the bed and lowered myself down onto it. I lifted my legs and began to remove my slutty pants, desperate already to have you touch me in my most intimate place.

You joined me on the bed and stilled my hands, then pulled the scarlet scrap of material back up and patted my drenched crotch.

Darling, you said, you look divine. Keep them on for me a little longer. I love you.

You proceeded me to torture me in the best and worst ways. You made love to me and fucked me at the same time. I realised in that moment that you don’t have to sleep around to be a slut. You just have to be horny as fuck and up for anything. And with you, I’m certainly that.

So yes, I’m a slut. But I belong to you, and you only. I’m your slut. Always.

***

Image copyright Jackie Adshead.

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