This is a video-script that I'd still like to see made into a short scene, but I'm giving it more narration than most others I've written.
This is all fiction. It began when I was chatting with someone online who was asking me about my sluts. And she said that she would like to be a slut. She asked if I would write a story with her in it -- but she wanted a fully narrated story and not just a script. I had her tell me some things about herself and her habits, and that character is based on her. I don't know why I based the other character so much on me -- must be because we chatted about the fantasy of her becoming one of my sluts.
I have her permission to share this story.
What porn actresses would you like to cast in the roles?
The scene begins in a neat and clean living room. It's not very large. There's a very attractive woman angling the chairs to form more of a circle. She's in her early 30s and has a fabulous figure that suggests a good diet and lots of regular exercise. Her tan skirt is high enough to hint at her sexiness and low enough to still be professional, and she wears a pale yellow, high quality blouse. She wears a crystal, Swarovski tennis bracelet and a matching necklace.
Scene 121: Everyone Wants to Become a Slut
I should begin by explaining why this meeting is at my apartment, especially when I'm the newest and youngest member of the steering team. But when you look at where we all live, my place is most centrally located plus I don't have a family or roommates, so we could meet here and not bother anyone. And just after dinner on a Wednesday night, six middle-aged women joined me to plan our charity's fund-raising activities for the next quarter. As the ladies arrive, I offer them each water, tea, or coffee and bring their requests. I don't have as much fund-raising experience as the rest of the team, and I feel that I'm trying to find ways to add value to the team. I'm really on this team because I'm our organization's new treasurer, and I have solid bookkeeping experience.
Everyone else is sitting when I return with Margaret 's coffee. She thanks me and also compliments me on how pretty I look tonight. I have to smile. No one at work ever comments on my looks. Oh, I know the men are watching me all of the time. They go out of their way to walk by my desk and try to sit where they can see me during meetings. I dress to give ample encouragement to their fantasies. But our company warns constantly about sexual harassment in the workplace, and they're all too frightened with getting tagged with that label, and they like to pretend that I'm just any other woman that they don't care about. And the other women in the company are more senior than I am and firmly believe that complimenting a woman on her looks is just barbaric and unenlightened. I'm sure they feel that I don't dress plainly enough, but I only occasionally cross the line in the sand of appropriateness, and never by much. Today, though, I stayed on the conservative and safe side.
There are two empty chairs together, and I sit in the one nearest to the front door. Mary is passing around the agenda, and the doorbell rings. "That's going to be Shelby," Linda says. "She's my sister's daughter, and I told her she should get involved with organizations like ours to meet more people."
I got up and entered the door. I was so amazed; it's like there's an angel entering my house. I know I was staring, and I couldn't say anything as I let her into the room. Now I know what it means for someone to be radiant. I want to reach out and touch her long, golden, wavy hair. Her lovely face draws everyone's eyes to her, and the meeting chatter pauses.
She scans the group until she spots Linda. "Hi, Aunt Linda." She shares a smile, and it's like the entire room brightens from her brilliant white teeth.
"Hello, dear." Linda addresses the rest of the group. "This is my niece, Shelby." She returns her attention to the newcomer. "We saved you a seat."
I stare as she walks to the chair by mine and sits. This woman needs to meet more people like a rabbit needs more attention at a dog park. She's wearing a brick red minidress with a bare shoulder, and it's coin toss which is better, her figure or her legs. I'm 5'5", and she's maybe three inches taller than I am, but one or two of those inches come from higher heels than I'm wearing. Her next stop after this meeting ends is either a date with a handsome and wealthy executive or a night out at the fanciest dance club in the city. If she has trouble meeting people, then ... enough. I sit next to her and try to concentrate on the first agenda item.
I look over at Shelby. I guess she's about five to ten years younger than I am. I wonder what work she does. I feel like if she were our company's receptionist or CEO's executive assistant, that would be a step down from whatever she should be doing. Can you make a living as a cheerleader. She's probably a model. I wonder if I can find images of her modeling swimsuits -- bikinis -- online. Her dress is pretty tight, and it makes it easier to visualize her in a bikini -- or less. I know I'm staring, but I'm trying to decide if she's wearing a bra or not. That's a dumb thing to wonder about, so instead I wonder about what size her breasts are. Maybe 33 or 34C. That's what I'd like them to be, and I'm imagining how they would look. I've taken off her bra along with her dress in my mind, and I can see her breasts. Whatever size they are, they're the most perfect breasts ever. I'm convinced of it.
Shelby looks my way and catches me staring at her. I quickly avert my attention lower. She has long legs and perfectly toned thighs that it would so fun to kiss and lick. I wish I could away with wearing something that short to work, but I only get to wear something like that when I go out. If that dress were just a little higher ... she's still watching me stare at her and I look the other direction. But I keep looking back her way. Why did these two chairs have to be together. If I were across from her, I could watch her more. I imagine how it would be, and maybe she would like that attention, just like I have fun teasing the men watching me by accidentally flashing them in meetings. Her dress is very tight, but it's so short and it would be very easy to see her panties if she let me. I wonder what color they are. In my fantasy, they're pink -- bright pink. It goes well with the red and looks good against her tanned skin. And when I take them off in my mind, she's perfectly shaved.
The meeting dragged on for another 45 minutes, and I don't know anything that happened. But I could tell you about some kinky fantasies with me and Shelby. Shelby doesn't wait around and leaves for her date. My pussy is demanding that I go get my vibrator, and I tell the ladies that I'm tired and can't chat tonight. I herd them out the door quickly, and I don't waste any time after the door shuts. I unzip my skirt and quickly pull it down. I kick it and my shoes off and over towards my largest chair. I slip off my yellow and turquoise striped panties and toss them on to the floor on my way to the chair. I'll get the Hitachi right after I finger myself a little. But I haven't even been rubbing myself for more than two minutes when the doorbell rings.
I panic for a moment and look at the blinds. They're closed, and I feel relief that no one can be spying on me. There are times I like to be an exhibitionist, but I feel too out-of-control to do it tonight. I rub faster and use my super-power to will her to leave my doorstep, but the bell rings again. Whichever lady it is knows I'm here, and I'll have to pause my satisfaction. I wipe my fingers on my butt while I put on my skirt. I glance at the floor for the panties while I walk to the door, but I don't see them. It doesn't really matter. I'll stand in the door and see what she forgot to tell me.
My heart speeds up when I open the door. It's Shelby.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Morgan. I decided that I had to go home instead of going to the club, and I wanted to call my friends and tell them not to expect me, but I think I left my phone in your apartment." She starts to walk in, and I move out of the way. My fantasies are for her to be in my apartment, so I have to let her in, right? She spots the phone on the table next to where she was sitting. Now I discover why I didn't see my panties on the floor. They landed in the next chair by the table. I use my not-so-super-power to will Shelby not to see it. She picks up her phone, and my powers fail me again. She pauses as her gaze sees the panties on the chair.
