As I sat in the kitchen sipping my coffee, last night's conversation replayed itself through my head.
John had told me he was taking me to a Halloween Party and to start picking out an outfit. We have been together for a while now, so I knew what he wasn't saying. I may not wear a collar but I know I am his slut. His to do with whatever he wants.
And I love this fact.
John is wonderful. He is true gentleman in every way outside the bedroom. Sweetness, tenderness and patience.
In the bedroom he is everything I want and need and desire in a man. Dominating, kinky and adventurous.
So I sit here in my silk pajamas, my mind going in a thousand different directions. What should I wear, what will happen, what if I know someone? I am thrilled. My heart races with a nervous excitement of the unknown, a traditional experience with a twist, the chance to have a wicked fun time.
How risquΓ© should I dressed? What will everyone else be wearing? How will the evening play out?
After much debate and struggle I decide on an outfit. This has been extremely difficult for me. I am used to asking my girlfriends for their advice. Shopping together, trying on clothes together and primping together. Now I am on my own. I could never ask them their opinion on the subject. They would be shocked and horrified. Okay, maybe not shocked, but still horrified. They know that I am not sweetness and innocence. But they don't know the extent of it.
I settle on an "adult" version of Christine from Phantom of the Opera. It appeals to my love of the French style of dress in the 1870's and allows me to show off my cleavage and wear an ornate mask as in the Masquerade scene. It also gives John an elegant, easy outfit, as I will be the one putting it together for him, which coordinates with myself.
***
The night finally arrives. I have barely eaten all day. My apparent nervousness and apprehension excessively amuse John. We speak of it little though. I know I am safe with him and that he won't force me to do anything I don't want to do. But he will be pushing my limits to help explore them and this endears him to me.
I have two glasses of Shiraz to settle my nerves before he shows up to pick me up. We have about a half-hour drive to get there. I am banking on the fact that the distance will insure that I recognize no one and vice versa.
On the way John reaches over and pushes my panties aside from under my dress. He finds the wetness and comments that his little slut is more excited about the evening than I've previously let on.
It is true. I am so horny and aroused right now. What may happen... What could happen... What inevitably will happen...
I beg him to stop as he begins rubbing my clit, as I am so hot already and don't want to have any telltale marks on my costume before we arrive. He stops, but with the concession being that I have to remove my panties and keep both feet on the dashboard for the remainder of the ride. I oblige, knowing that I am on the verge of exploding already.
Minutes later as we pull up next to a semi truck on the highway, John slows the car down. He turns on the inside lights illuminating the car and my naked lower torso to the trucker. I am embarrassed and try to cover myself, but John firmly "suggests" I remove my hands unless I want to be punished before we arrive at the party. I do as he says. It is my deSire to please him.
John tells me to touch myself for the trucker. I begin tentatively, glancing up to confirm that yes, he is watching intently.
Only the mask I wear comforts me in this situation. It is my protection from myself. It allows me freedom. It allows me a certain degree of control. Anonymity from the world.
In the style of the dress, my breasts are mostly exposed. I have full, large tits with huge areolas. I love to have them licked, sucked, pinched and tied.
I begin by removing them easily from the restraint of the dress and playing with the nipples. Pinching them to arousal and hardness. Rubbing them between thumb and forefinger. All the time John is telling me what a slut I really am. His dirty girl. A true harlot to be used as a plaything. This is making me so wet. I begin to forget about the trucker and become intoxicated with my own needs and desires. Not caring who is watching, just wanting release.
One hand drifts between my breasts down to my legs. Teasing myself and not touching my aching clit, I stroke my inner thighs with one hand, the other still twisting my tits. I trace all around my throbbing pussy until I can stand it no more and I dip a finger into my wetness.
A deep moan escapes my lips. I continue the assault on my pussy adding my thumb to my clit gently flicking it over the sensitive area.
Both hands are now struggling to release the frustration and absolute desire coursing through me. John tells me to stop and look up at the trucker and to lick my fingers. I am so hot and wound up that I will do anything right now.
I suck my fingers greedily recognizing my own taste as John always makes me lick his finger clean. I can see the look of lust on the trucker's face. I feel like a wanton slut and it thrills me.
I get back to work on my pussy and wish I had thought to bring a toy for the ride. I stick a second finger into my dripping cunt and start pounding them in deep and rubbing my clit hard and fast with the other. The explosion and intensity of my orgasm is sudden and overwhelming. I shudder as my muscles contract and my whole being is centered on just feeling- no thoughts or emotions. The waves of release consume me for a moment until I regain my bearings.
As I catch my breath, the knowledge of what I've just done begins to set in. John touches my face and smiles knowingly, anticipating my reaction. He knows that my behavior and wanton disregard for propriety horrify me. He tells me he is so proud of his wicked little slut and can't wait to show me off at the party. His expression is filled with desire and lust.
I can see his hardness though the material of his outfit. I reach across the seat and rub my hand along the length of his dick, which is clearly straining against the fabric of his tuxedo.
Slowly I unzip his pants as he moves the seat as far back as he dares, making room for what he anticipates I'm about to do. I'm teasing him, touching him gently and playing with the tip when I hear him say, "Suck it now slut". I lean in and pull as much into my mouth as possible. Flicking my tongue over the tip then pulling him as deep as I can into my throat again. He's been trying to get me to deep throat him, but I just can't yet. Stupid gag reflex.
I continue pulling him into my mouth, flicking my tongue over the tip. In this position I can't use my hands as much as I usually do as I am trying to balance on the seat while the vehicle is moving. All the time he is tell me how much he loves having a slut to play with and that I'm a great cocksucker. I love dirty talk and he knows how much it gets me going. His little hoar. His cum slut. His fuck toy.