I woke up the next morning after our date with Mr. Martini covered in a sleepy sense of elation and surprise at how well X had handled everything that had happened. He had never once in the 17+ years I’d known him struck me as someone who was emotionally capable of handling the situation we found ourselves in, let alone as being the sort of open and honest communicator that was needed for this adventure not to end in disaster and divorce. Our history together had taught me to assume right up until now that this was all some sort of scheme or trap he was setting up to benefit himself in some way I wasn’t aware of even though he had assured me over and over that wasn’t the case. 

As I laid there, waking up to my new reality & feeling the cool spring breeze drift in from our open bedroom window, I found myself quietly reflecting on everything we had talked about in the last week and the events of the previous night for what felt like hours. I realized if I wanted to move forward with our relationship after everything that had transpired, I had to trust X’s intentions were sincere & that he would continue to be as honest as he had been since we started talking about all of this. Unless he gave me a reason to question his motives, why would I? I knew we were playing with fire & he knew after almost two decades of spinning me around in a cycle of he-loves-me-he-hates-me-he-loves-me-he-hates-me, rinse & repeat, he was on his final chance to prove he was capable of real, lasting change. He had been given the same keys to the same kingdom I was in terms of what he was allowed to do and with who. At this point, it seemed insane to me to think he would bother lying or hiding things again when we were finally on honest and extremely open terms with each other. I was clearly being paranoid & letting the issues we’ve had in the past get the better of me.

And after how amazingly well our first experience with non-monogamy had gone, it really felt like I was overthinking things unnecessarily. The universe had finally decided to reward my love for X & patience for his shit behavior throughout the years by giving me a better, more evolved version of him. A version of him that had finally taken in everything I’d tried to learn myself and in turn tried to teach him about being a good partner. 

I couldn’t help being optimistic about our future as I soaked in every bit of attention and affection X was giving me in the days that followed, even if it was solely based on me fucking other people. I was still so in love with him if I had to earn his adoration fuck by fuck, I would.

Time would show me one way or another, but for right now? By fuck, we seemed to be doing alright. Hell, better than alright. For the first time in a long time, it felt like we were on the same page, on the same sentence even. Fuck doing alright, we were doing great.

The same morning I had my revelations, X must have had some of his own because he announced later that day that he had decided there would be new rules regarding what I wore on dates going forward. I wasn’t exactly thrilled he wanted that level of control, but love makes you fuckin’ stupid. I figured if it was fun for him, it might be fun for me so what was the harm in giving it a try? 

“As long as you aren’t going to try to force this in a situation that’s not appropriate for it (as he had been known to do with other things in the past), I’m down to be your slutty little dress up doll, baby.” I said as I smirked at him.

Any slut activities from here on out came with the following dress code: no bra, no panties, if I had to wear pants, crotch-less was preferred and if I had to wear something over said crotch-less pants, only the shortest skirt I owned that he approved of was allowed. 

After I agreed, X informed me of his next change in our arrangement: more. He wanted to dive even further into this quicker than I had expected he would. He wanted someone new for me every weekend & during the week if we could figure out scheduling. Mr. Martini had been a fun fuck & fun to watch, but X was confident there was something bigger and better for us if we’d just sit down & look for it and I was inclined to agree. 

In the days following our mutual a-ha moments, the ritual of logging on & checking out our preferred fuck sites quickly became one of the main ways we’d spend quality time together. Endlessly scrolling through notifications from people who had interacted with our profiles & clicking through page after page of local perverts, talking about who he’d like to see me with & why. It was a flesh buffet and I was being told to indulge to my hearts content. All you can fuck and more. Big dick? Yes, please. Beautiful pussy? Of course, they all are! One of the many body types I’m into? Hell yes. Oooh, someone with a cute face, great personality and good sense of humor to boot? I’ll take two! It was an intensely freeing feeling to have X by my side as my partner in crimes against conventionality and he seemed to enjoy the act of pre-fuck filtering through of people nearly as much as I did. It felt like we were on the path to something incredible not just for me, but for both of us once he was comfortable enough to join me & spread his own slutty wings.

With the new additions X made to our perverted little game and all the time we were spending planning & talking about it, I started to feel more secure in my decision to trust him. It seemed like he was making a very real attempt to be an active participant in our relationship for the first time in very long time. In almost every aspect of our life together throughout the years he had been passive at best & absent or abusive at worst. I held out hope, clinging to the knowledge that every human who wants to is capable of doing better. If I can improve & grow as a person, maybe with my help he could too. It felt like we had found each other again, like for the first time in a long time he actually saw me for who I was & liked it. Maybe even loved it at times. With every new rule or request he made I was ready to do whatever I had to, to try keep this new and improved version of him from slipping away. 

Very quickly after we started our ritual of checking out the sluts sites together nightly, it went from fun to exhausting for me. After a few days of not finding anyone I was interested in, X started pushing me to check my messages on our profiles as much during the day as I possibly could between working & taking care of the house. And the longer I took to find anyone interesting, the more it felt like I had limited time to even do so without receiving a disappointed reaction from X. If they had a big dick, they wouldn’t agree to condoms. If they were cute, they were brainless. If they were physically and mentally interesting, they were either married (and unethically non-monogamous) or hundreds of miles away. Especially when he wasn’t there to enjoy it with me like we normally did, sifting through it all got so tedious so fast. 

Just as I started to get discouraged enough to give up on searching for a new fuck-friend to entertain X with that weekend, I decided to scroll through our inbox one last time only to find a new message. His display picture caught my eye and after taking a glance at his profile, the new message seemed well worth replying to, this guy was exactly what I was looking for. Let’s call him Mr. Peanut Butter with a space or Mr. PB so I don’t get sued by a certain mega streaming company.  He was a 24 year old from a nice, proper family who lived in a nice proper neighborhood. Cute, fairly intelligent and well spoken, but still very blunt & to the point (which I personally appreciate, especially in situations like the one we were in). He seemed very eager to please even if he was clearly out of his depth in terms of experience, but not so much that it seemed like I would have to do all the work. Fantastic! And just in time for Saturday night.

After a bit of back & forth with Mr. Peanut Butter, I sent X a text to let him know the good news. “I think we found our fun for this weekend! Go check the messages on there when you get a chance to get caught up.” 

I popped back over to my chat with Mr. PB & asked if he was free that Saturday evening to meet up & see if the vibe we had online carried over in real life. By the time X was home for the night, Mr. PB had responded back enthusiastically agreeing that he’d love to & asking where we’d like to meet up. We had a person, we had a place, we had a plan. All there was to do now was wait out the rest of the week.

A day or so later and the weekend finally rolled around, we went to meet up with Mr. PB at an arcade on his side of town, but after realizing it was an all ages locale that was currently packed to the gills with screaming, snot filled children being led around by their depressed looking parents who’s resting faces looked like they could only vaguely recall what actual free time used to look like, it was clear we needed to head towards a much more “adults only” venue that would better suit our needs and my attire for the evening that was currently well hidden under my coat. After a quick Google search, we found a sports bar close by and figured we’d try our luck socializing there instead.

One short drive later and we were walking into the warm, loud & overly bright embrace of the bar as the sickly sweet smell of stale beer swirled around the pocket of cold air we’d dragged in with us. It was pretty clear this was a child-free zone. Thank fuck!

We made our way to an open table, sat down, placed our orders and did our best to make small talk while we waited for our drinks. I found myself glancing around at the clumps of people, trying to find something to distract my brain with so the awkwardness that comes with any new social situation could be kept at bay until the waitress reappeared with our societal lubricants of choice. As I scanned the room, I almost instantly noticed a bride-to-be wandering around the bar, trying to see if anyone wanted to get “sucked for a buck“. That’s all the pervert in me needed to hear to give my full attention to what it was she was going table to table in search of. Give her a buck, get a suck (a.k.a. a lollipop) & help her win the contest she was having with her fiance to see who could mooch the most money off of total strangers to foot the bill at the end of their night. I have never seen a bridal party make a game of trying to get random strangers to pay for their dinners before or since.

And people think I’m fuckin’ trashy for being a slut. Ha!

Just as soon as I got the gist of what one buck bride was squawking about, my attention was snapped back to the table as I noticed our waitress coming over with our drinks. As she sat down our glasses it was like blowing a bimbo dog whistle in the direction of the bride-to-be and she must have realized she hadn’t tried her shtick at our table yet. She stumbled her way over & gave us her well-rehearsed shpiel, which we all politely listened to and then took turns politely declining. She tootled off in search of new marks for her quest that would be more receptive to her offer as I sipped my drink and tried to revive whatever filler topic we were talking about before I’d given up the conversation. As the ridiculousness of the how the night had gone so far hit me, I couldn’t help cracking a stupid joke.

“Suck for a buck, huh?” I chuckled to Mr. Peanut Butter

“I think the deal I’m offering you may be a bit better, but if not at least it’s free.”

That seemed to be all it took to suck the rest of the awkward out of the conversation. We sat there with a little less pretense, asking each other questions & trying to figure out the vibe while we continued watching the bougie bride fail at her given task for the evening. Yet another round of drinks were had after that and by then the bride was gone & I was asking Mr. PB which way he wanted to go with the night’s plan. I’d already made it as clear as I could that I had serious interest seeing him without all those pesky clothes in the way, but if he wasn’t interested I wasn’t going to push the issue. He eagerly agreed a secluded environment & less clothing on both of us would be a fantastic idea. Quickly after that we decided that the we should continue our little get together somewhere more private, we paid the tab & made plans to meet up at the closest shady hotel to see what trouble we could all get into.

As X & I walked out of the bar, we realized in our rush to get ourselves out the door that night and get me fucked, we’d neglected to pick up some things to make sure we finish the night off properly. I sent a quick text to Mr. Peanut Butter letting him know & giving him the go ahead to start towards the hotel without us. We popped into our local grocery store since it was on the way and my giddy ass waltzed up and down the isles, throwing whatever I thought would enhance the evening into our basket. Booze, mixers, cups, condoms. Once I felt like I had checked every box on the filthy slut shopping list, we brought our hoard of supplies up to the register & made our purchase.

After another short car ride, we finally made it to our destination of debauchery. “Fuck #2, locked, loaded & ready to go!” I thought as we pulled up to the hotel. I glanced around & immediately noticed the ever adorable Mr. PB standing around awkwardly out front of the big, window covered building, waiting for us to show & very much looking like he wasn’t even totally sure we would. Which is fair, I half expected him to pull a no-show himself. Our dynamic was a lot to ask of anyone vanilla, which at least at the time Mr. PB most definitely was & after our experience with Mr. Nobody ditching out last minute in our very first attempt at meeting up with someone, it was something I knew to expect now. 

X parked & I poured myself out of the car, cackling at god knows what stupid-but-hilarious-to-me-joke I’d just made to before our arrival. Mr. PB snapped his head in the direction of my crowing & realized we hadn’t been leading him on. This was going to actually happen if he wanted it to. His face was painted in various shades of nervousness & excitement as I walked up, waving & shaking the bag of goodies I was carrying with me at him like a trophy.

After quickly greeting each other, we figured to avoid making complete asses of ourselves, we should make our way inside of the evening’s fuck-o-tel of choice & grab ourselves a room. Not having much to do at this point besides look cute, PB & I stood back to the side while X talked to the front desk lady & secured the room. Once again the absurdity of the situation struck me funny as hell. Here I was, standing in the lobby of a hotel, holding a bag of condoms & booze while dressed to the slut-tenth degree, standing next to someone I was about to suck and fuck within an inch of his life. It was nothing the desk clerk hadn’t seen a million times before, but it was so silly to me I had to make a conscious effect to stop myself from laughing out loud at it. Instead I turned to Mr. PB & whispered “I’m a whore, but tonight is pro bono work… Promise!” in the direction of the front desk as I watched them finish up the paperwork. We were still giggling at each other when the clerk slid X the key card for our room.

Looking behind him to see where we’d gotten to, X spotted me & gave us a slightly annoyed nod to indicate we were good to go before he quickly took off down the hotel corridor, completely embarrassed at my inability to take the situation seriously, I’m sure. We collected ourselves from the cloud of whispers and stupid jokes we’d become while we waited & trailed after X, me carrying the bags full of the night’s supplies & Mr. PB lugging around what I was soon to discover was a massive cock.

Just as I was getting tired of walking up flights of stairs, we turned a corner & came face to face with our room. X slid the keycard into the door slot, beeping us into what would become our fuck palace for the next few hours. I walked in last and threw everything down on the bed to sort through because even when I’m a slut, I’m an excellent host. After I found the right combination of things I needed, I got started on making drinks for PB & myself. A moment or two later, I handed him his poorly made vodka-whatever & noticed that while I’d been mixing us up some refreshments, Mr. PB had taken the initiative & started to undress. I smiled & set my own drink down on the side table (which came complete with a Gideon’s bible, I checked) then slid out of my coat & what little clothing I actually had on, pouncing onto the bed next to my new playmate, excited and nervous, but more than ready to finally see what Mr. Peanut Butter was capable of & where the night was going to take us. 

As PB & I got more acquainted with each other, in the way that only sluts can, I started to trace my fingers up and then down his chest, letting my slender digits trail down, down, down to his soft belly and then back up to his barely fuzzy chest. After a moment, I brought my face up to his just to see what he’d do. Without missing a beat, Mr. PB leaned up for a kiss so I pulled myself closer, pushing my warm, soft tits into the side of him. We quickly became a mound of tangled, pink flesh & soft, wet sounds.

Before we could go much further, X interrupted us to say he had plans for the night that went above and beyond me getting laid and him getting to watch.

We were about to make a good, old fashioned American porno.