To Train A Slut First Find One

Serendipity.

Junior's 21st birthday weekend was reason to book into a hotel for 3days...and strut-our-slut.

'3suitcases for 3days, really?'

'Yes son, were taking 25years of Mummy's slut-wear, make-up, and sex-toys,' I avoided replying.

Before our daughter's birth, I'd regularly barhop with my wife, Riz, in slut-mode, (un)dressed to expose to lecherous males-gaze, intimate body parts for which she craved adulation. They got horny, I, their envy, she, wet and slippery. Win/Win/Win.

Shortly before our daughter's birth, I'd exposed Riz in two nudity-friendly bars, dressed in white suspenders, stockings and mules. She'd leaned back into me. I milked her lactating breasts causing white streaks to dribble over her ripened baby-bump, the ultimate manifestation of our bonding. Our eyes swept the enrapt debauchees for our reward, the girls' envy of her, the guys', of me.

We'd bar-fined baby-machine, Jill, whose eager face gave her away, to engage in a lesbian show for my titillation. Riz double-fisted Jill who then bent forward, over Riz' upper body, and suckled from her breasts, reaching down to stimulate Riz' clit with a vibrator. Doggie-style, I licked, rimmed and pummelled, both Jill's brown and pink portals. Riz came. Jill came when Riz ate her. I thrust my engorged cock into Jill's gaped mouth, released my penis tie and came convulsively. She kissed Riz and passed my copious sperm to her to gargle and swallow.

Rinse, repeat with creative variations in the morning, and afternoon.

Jill aced the slut test. She was delighted to stay two more nights and be slut-walked, liking the money, loving the sex.

Riz, I'd first encountered at a lock-in, watching a lesbian show with my fuck-buddy, Zara. In the show's lottery, I'd won Riz' barfine.

Zara said, 'Keep her. We work lesbian shows together; she's up for anything'.

Riz is an athletic and delicately boned Filipina 'black-beauty', and an accomplished slut. We became a regular throuple. When Zara married, Riz replaced her in my affections.

We married. To lose one super-slut was misfortune, two, would be incompetence.

After marriage, Filipinas demand impregnation. Children followed, cramping our style. Riz' toys and regalia of slutdom were packed away from the kids' sight. When opportunity arises, we break out the gear, book a hotel, call a slut, and we're off.

Now, 25 years on, a 'boyfriend' of our first-choice slut was holidaying and couldn't remain unattended in 'The-City-of-Fallen-Angels'. Our first night would, again, be a slut-hunt, finding a prick-tease, shameless as Riz.

Riz wore a see-through smock over pierced nipples, luminous body-stamps and depilated, vajazzled vagina. In the reasonably-priced bars up Perimeter Road quantity and quality varied, but bargains could be had. It was high season, the line-ups were picked-over, but we spotted a girl, who'd fit Riz' costumes, wearing a pelmet dress cocked to expose her shapely buttocks and thong string. She seemed in discomfort, tugging on her thong, tensing her buttocks. Several customers used smartphone flashlights to examine her backside.

As she passed, I said, 'I'm an amateur proctologist; If you slip down your thong, I'll take a look'.

'Thank you Siiiir.'

She bent forward and slipped her thong to her knees. I eased gently on either side of her anus. 'Push'.

A latex crescent appeared. With my pinkie I extruded a ribbed condom and held it up.

'Bingo!'

The girl exclaimed, 'Ohh! Today I swim at Stuart's hotel. He invite me to his room and begin to enjoy when his fiancé text she is coming. We panic and forget the condom.'

We laughed.

'You're barfined.

Riz, buy...uhh...'

'Ella.'

'...a ladies-drink while I wash my hands.'

At our hotel, after douching, Riz led Ella through her lesbian show, pussy shaved, genitals obscenely splayed and displayed, penetrated, front and rear, scissored, licked, sucked and toed. Ella orgasmed, then enthusiastically reciprocated. I watched six eager orifices writhing slowly before me, carefully waiting for the moment to strike. More fun than watching Geoff Boycott bat, - one at a time, no hurry.

Eventually, I hit one over the grandstand.

Next night, we returned to Ella's bar, her face made up sluttishly, she, dressed in an open, sheer camisole, black suspenders and stockings, sporting an anal-bead tail, with torso overwritten...

#LOVE4SALE#

#BuyMe'nTryMe#

...and buttocks...

#PULL2OPEN#

#OPEN2OFFERS#

She and Riz paraded and posed for photos. Guys crowded around Ella to take selfies; a dozen took her cell-phone number. For fun, Riz pulled out Ella's anal beads. She arched orgasmically and squirted.

'I make many friends, I like to be your slut, whenever', Ella confided.

'Excellent, I'll call, for sure.'