The ad read "Insatiable slut wanted for all-expenses paid cruise vacation." How could I pass that one by? Though I was more a "wanna be" slut than a slut with a proven track record. I was a virgin until I was 18 and went off to college, and even then it wasn't until after I graduated and started working for an environmental group that I started to fuck around; there was definitely a "free love hippie vibe going on" and I had a lot of fun in the bushes on those weekend campouts. Then I met a guy who I thought might be The One. We were monogamous for the few years we were together, but we both had very high sex drives so we fucked like bunnies, several times a day. Then he broke my heart and left me sad, alone, and horny as hell.
I called the number in the ad before I lost my nerve. To my surprise, I got a voice mail thing, though with a very sexy-sounding male voice.
"If you are calling about the all-expenses paid cruise vacation, press 1"
I pressed.
"Do you certify that you are over 18 years and able to give legal consent to having your brains fucked out? If so, press 1."
I didn't even wait to hear what the other option was before pressing 1.
"I am auditioning a slut to take with me on a one-week Caribbean cruise. If you want to prove to me that you are the best cunt with the sluttiest attitude, leave me your first name, your phone number, a description of yourself, and tell me the sluttiest thing you've ever done. Press 1 to begin recording, and 2 to stop recording."
I was already feeling wet. I started to finger myself as I pressed one and gave my name and number, slowly.
"I'm 5' tall, 120 pounds. Curvy. 34DD tits, and wide hips to match Long, straight brunette hair, down to my shoulder blades. Brown eyes. Latina heritage but I can pass for tanned Caucasian. As I'm leaving this message, I'm pounding two fingers in my cunt and rubbing my clit with my thumb. I'm thinking about how you might want to audition a slut. I really want to find out. I'm sure I'm not the girl with the sluttiest history. Yet. I'd like to make history. So far the sluttiest thing I ever did was fuck two guys who were room mates, but not at the same time. I wanted to. I wanted both of them to take turns on me, and maybe bring some friends, but I moved away before I got up my nerve to ask. Oh, and in college once I had sex with my boyfriend on the top bunk while his room mate was in the bottom bunk. I hope you'll consider me. You know, give me a chance to prove myself. Even if I don't get to win the cruise. Then I can say the sluttiest thing I did was fuck a stranger so I could maybe win a cruise."
The more I thought about fucking this stranger, the hotter I got. I started to moan as I played with my clit, figuring I may as well start the audition now. I let all the heat in my body into my voice, my breath. I imagined myself stripping for this man with the sexy voice, imagined him bending me over the bed and grabbing my hair while he plunged his cock and in and out from behind. As I mentioned, I was pretty horny so I'm sure I came in under a minute, my moans increasing until they crescendoed into a shriek.
The usual voice bot system broke in on my orgasm.
"Are you still there? Press 1 to continue recording, or 2 to end recording."
I pressed 2. The sexy voice was back.
"Thank you for submitting your application."
Did I just imagine it, or did he linger over the word 'submitting'?
"If I think you have what it takes, someone will call you with further instructions. Goodbye."
The line went dead. And I went into my bedroom to find my vibrator, because thinking about leaving a screaming orgasm on a stranger's voicemail left me even more horny than ever.
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GETTING READY
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I got a call back the next day. It was a recording, still the sexy male voice.
"Thank you for your submission yesterday."
And this time I knew he definitely enjoyed the word 'submission' as he said it.
"I would like to interview you in person. Please wear something slutty but tasteful and show up at The Mason Hotel downtown, tomorrow night at 8 pm, room 620. Don't be under the influence of anything except your hormones."
Tomorrow was Saturday. I definitely had nothing else going on in my life. I spent Saturday morning getting primped. Waxed, except for a small, trimmed tuft at the top of my pussy lips. Hair trimmed, but still long, with a gloss treatment. Fingers and toes tipped with a deep red color. Saturday afternoon I went thrift shopping, since I had already blown a lot of money on the self-care and my work teaching computer applications paid all right but not a huge amount. I found a sun dress with a halter top that acted enough like a bra that I didn't need a strapless one. It would have been more modest on a more modest bust size; mine threated to spill out if I took a deep breath or leaned over too far, but I felt like that worked for tasteful/slutty. The length was midway between knee and cunt, so respectable enough if I minded how I bent and sat. It was a medium-weight knit, so it wouldn't be see through, and I figured I could go without panties a well. As I thought about walking in for a slut interview with a naked cunt, I looked in the mirror and realized the top was showing my titty hardon, nipples straining against the knit fabric. Yeah, that would work. I really scored in the shoe section -- at size 6 I can almost always find nice shoes, but today I found some gorgeous platform stilettos that I think were some sort of designer brand. They made my bare, waxed legs look great!
After that, time dragged on until 8. I picked out earrings, dangles with three silver strands that caught the light when they moved. I did my makeup, still going for tasteful slut. Mascara, but not too much. Eye shadow, but accentuating, not overpowering. Blush, but not warpaint. The one statement was the lip color, a deep burgundy red that worked great with my dusky skin. I always used one of those long-lasting tints, so I could set it and forget it. I figured it was also good that I could suck cock without leaving streaks of lipstick all over it. Finally I figured 7:15 was a good time to leave, but I still got there with twenty minutes to spare. I fingered myself a bit. I realized I hadn't put on any perfume, but I dabbed some of my juices behind my ear before I left the car, clutching my tiny purse with my cell phone.
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ROUND ONE
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My hands were shaking as I rode up the elevator to the 6th floor. I could still turn around. But if I did, I'd always feel like I cheated myself out of an adventure. I was 28, and in the four years since I missed out on suggesting that threesome with the room mates, I really regretted it. I was determined not to regret this! I tugged the top so my tits were nicely arranged, and yeah, I tweaked my nipples a bit to make sure they were attention-worthy. I knocked, right at 8pm.
The door opened promptly. The man opening the door had long, black hair, wavy, cascading down his back. Blue eyes, that pale icy blue that made me quiver. I suppose he wouldn't be considered "male model gorgeous" -- he had an ordinary physique, not buffed out gym guy, but not couch potato, not burly but not wimpy either. I like guys with a bit of squish when I hug them. There was something about his presence and confidence that translated to a huge charisma boost for me. He kept me standing there a minute as he obviously checked me out, like he was calculating whether to let me in or send me packing if I didn't measure up. Or should that be "measure down", if he was looking for a slut?
I guess I passed because he stepped back and invited me in. The room was probably called a King Suite, though it was just a small sitting area and kitchen alcove with a counter, with no real separation from the rest of the room. I could see the top covers had been pulled back, leaving the bottom sheet ready for action. I wondered if they'd seen other action already. The room didn't have that funky sex smell. Yet?
He was still appraising me. I can't really say "undressing me with his eyes", because it felt in an odd way like he could see through me, with or without my clothes on.
"Have you had any drugs or alcohol today?"
"No, sir."
I didn't know why that 'sir' popped into my mouth. But it felt right. I think it felt right to him, too. He smiled.
"Would you like some water?"