This is the first thing that’s made my cunt wet in awhile: https://fetlife.com/groups/19042/group_posts/1963605?utm_campaign=notifications&utm_medium=email&utm_source=new_group_discussion
For those of you that can’t access Fetlife, it’s a post about being whored out. I like the perspective of the OP: if you’re owned, and you are willing to allow him to tell you who to fuck, to dictate the use of your cunt in any way he chooses, what makes him taking money for it so different? She said, in part:
I love the concept of taking a slave to a glory hole or bookstore or bath house. So, is it the exchange of money that makes people squemish about the whoring concept? Is it somehow better if one is simply passed around to friends or is it more honorable if times are hard and an s-type was providing food and shelter via their warm wet holes?
I haven’t felt even an inkling of lust or desire or need the past couple weeks. Frankly, it’s been a fucking desert down there (glowering down at my pussy), with family, responsibilities, lack of energy, lack of opportunity and lack of effort impacting both of our libidos.
And then the one day that we decided to make it happen regardless, we got interrupted four times. I’m not exaggerating! In my bed, in the afternoon when no one was (supposed) to be home. I have his cock in my hand, he’s in the act of rolling over on top of me, and I hear a knock on my half-open bedroom door. “Momma!” says the girl. We were like teenagers throwing the blanket over ourselves and trying to appear innocent.
We didn’t fool her.
But the moment was lost when she left, and we rolled over and napped instead.
I woke up with him poking me in the back.
Soooo…we tried again.
Ad texted about a possible renter for the house in the middle. His ex called. My son called. Somehow we managed to get the deed done. (Personally I think he likes to have these interruptions, and to make me continue to suck him or fuck him while he’s talking or I am texting, since he never lets his phone go to voicemail and always tells me to pick up. “Keep sucking,” he says, or else just points to his cock. LOL)
Then later, at his house, his mom was napping and I was baking (in heels.) “You have a break?” he asked, when I put the bread in the oven. “Yes,” I said, and he drug me down to the basement. Where he had accidentally left out a few pieces of rope and a spreader bar.
“Your brother,” I said, as he tied my wrists and pulled down my pants. (His brother was due in sometime that evening.)
“He won’t be here until late tonight,” he said.
Five minutes later, his phone rings. It’s his brother, who is is right around the corner. He makes me suck him off while he gives his brother directions.
And now, I’m here and…well. You’ve read about my trip. It’s been lovely…but I wish I could have found some way to mix a little kink into it. Especially as I know W will be gone when I get back for another three weeks, and, well, being there is pretty much a libido-killer for him.
So reading this made my pussy wet, made my groin clench, made my breath short. A sweet surprise.
Being owned so completely that he could sell my cunt or mouth to whomever he chose. Fuck.
Him actually doing it. Double fuck.
Hello pussy – nice to hear from you again!