A Truly Slutty Wife

If you are under 18 years of age, kindly leave and do not read any further. All individuals in my tales, both real and fictitious, are themselves, over the age of 18 years old.

My name is Brenda and along with my husband, Ron, we're sharing our stories of meeting Dr. St. John Smythe and his assistance to help improve our sex life. If you have not read Ron's story already, I will say that he gives the background as to how we met St. John and I won't retell that here. Go and read his account before reading mine and the whole story will make more sense to you.

* * *

After Ron met with St. John, I received a phone call from him a couple of days later. I can remember it like it happened only a few minutes ago, because it was so shocking and unusual! I say shocking, not in the sense of my being offended, but from the fact that I had never engaged in a conversation like that with anyone before. Not a close acquaintance nor friend, never mind a virtual stranger, who up to that point, I had not even met!

I won't write the entire exchange, word for word. But I will share the spicy bits that nearly left me speechless, with a very nice warmth in my peach, mind you, that only made the moistness there all that much more pleasant!

After a few minutes of just nice 'get to know you' conversation, he told me what he was going to do and then the fun began.

"Tell me, Brenda, in a few words, what the word slut means to you and whether or not you find its use distasteful or not?" he began.

I was lost for words and stammered around for a minute trying to put together an answer that didn't leave me looking like an idiot, or worse, a dried up prune.

"Well," I began. "I think that a slut is aaaa... I think maybe a person who... aaah, does things that..."

My mind went blank and I could not put words to thoughts to save my life. He graciously stepped in and helped me out.

"Would it help if I told you that a slut is a word that is used and abused by people all the time and that I believe that someone displaying the characteristics, should be celebrated and applauded, not shamed. That it is a behaviour that should be most desirable in any personality that wishes to have any hope of having a full and happy sex life!"

'Wow,' I thought to myself. 'I'm taking to someone who's title is doctor, who sounds like a doctor, but... not the kind of doctor I've ever spoken with before. Maybe these head guys are a little bit different -perhaps?'

I must say, though, his comment changed my whole head space and I was able to relax. He dropped the first question and went onto the next one.

"What do you think when I say that your husband very much wants you to be a slut? How does that make you feel?"

This one was easier to answer and I had no trouble expressing my thoughts.

"I like the idea of it. I mean, I love the idea of being with other, talented men in bed and the thought of being a bit more naughty actually really turns me on!"

I was finding my stride and I thinking, hoping, that I was saying something St. John would approve of. I really did want to open up more and fuck different guys. Ron and I had talked endlessly about me getting picked up in a bar by a stranger or going to the adult theatres. The idea of it all had me really turned on! Our problem, however, was that we didn't know how to break out of our swinging routine and safely meet guys (and maybe a few girls) that were really going to do it for us. A little more theatre, perhaps, than just a bit of fucking.

"I want to meet guys that not only know how to fuck well, but also make it more interesting! More drama! Good drama, mind you, but something more than a bit of small talk, a bit of foreplay and then... a mediocre fuck and that's it."

I didn't intend to bash the swinging lifestyle, but our experiences had left us both... well... kind of bored with the whole thing! I wanted a bit of the excitement of a good porn fuck, not the church social.

"Tell me how you feel when I say these words or phrases. Let's use these phrases to assign a rating and I can get a better feel for what interests you. Okay?" he asked.

"Okay."

"Very interested, mildly interested, take it or leave it, not really interested and absolutely not. Is that self explanatory?" he asked.

"Yes. I think so," I said with a bit of a panicky feeling. What were those answers again? Fuck!

"Flashing in a public place," he began.

"Very interested," I answered. Heck, that could be fun. I'd flashed at the different swingers clubs.

"Fucking complete strangers."

"Very interested!"

"Anal sex."

"Mildly interested."

"Being fucked roughly."

I hesitated while I let that one seep in. It was a huge part of my fantasies, but I didn't know if I would like it in real life. What to say! What to say!

"Very interested." I could always change my mind, I reasoned.

The questions went on for about 20 minutes and I could tell that he was making notes. He asked me everything I could possibly think of and I don't think I answered 'absolutely not' to any of them. Even when he asked if I would like to watch Ron suck another man's cock. I thought that one might be quite out of the question for Ron, but I wouldn't mind watching it happen. We'd watched a little porn like that in the past.

After the lengthy list of questions, St. John and I just chatted a bit and I have to say that I began feeling very comfortable, but quite odd too as we laughed and he told a few little stories. It wasn't a bad feeling or anything, but kind of like I was not in the moment, if that makes any sense. I felt warm and content, but my head was a bit cloudy and I kept missing little parts of what he was saying. When I clicked back in, he was in the middle of a sentence and I had missed the start of it... that sort of thing.

When our call was coming to an end, he said the oddest thing to me and I have no idea what he meant. Stranger still, I didn't ask him what he meant either. It didn't seem to matter.

He said, "The trees in the middle of your parking lot are neither pines nor arbutus... they're just wet like dust."

Whatever was he talking about, I haven't a clue! Before we said good bye, he asked if I'd be home the next day. He wanted to talk a little bit about Ron and I getting together with him for dinner. I said I was home all day.

"I'll call you at exactly 1:30. And one last thing... I want you to be completely naked and prepared to prove it to me," was the final thing he said.

With my head feeling a bit like it was stuffed full of cotton balls, I didn't even think twice before answering.

"The pleasure will be all mine!"

With that, I went and sat with Ron in our living room and told him all about the call. Interesting, though, I purposely didn't mention the arrangement for the next day or that I was to be naked for the call. I went to bed smiling to myself, thinking about the naughtiness of the request and the possibilities of how St. John might have me prove that I had complied...

***

The next morning I was giddy and quite anxious (in a good way) as I watched the clock and waited for 1:30 to arrive. I was feeling quite devilish as I thought about being naked for the first time with my new tutor. So turned on, I must confess, that I touched myself until I had a really strong orgasm! Like the proverbial cigarette after sex, I poured myself a glass of wine and walked naked out onto the patio to relax in a lounge before the call.

Even though I had just had a lovely cum, I was still as horny as could be. I thought how appropriate this was for someone who was learning to unleash their slut within and become a truly free soul. The sun was warm and felt very nice as the scent of the climbing roses that screened the patio, filled the air. As I lay there without a care in the world, I was thinking about St. John saying he wanted me to be naked for his call and be prepared to prove it. Oh, I could be devilish and my mind was thinking of a dozen ways to make this more fun than just sitting there naked. After all, I was supposedly a slut in training, not just some housewife waiting for the guy next door to slip through the hedge and play with my tits while his wife was away shopping. I had a plan! Back into the house I went to get things ready.

At precisely 1:30 the phone rang and I answered it.

"Are you naked, Brenda?" were the first words out of his mouth.

"Is that what you'd like?" I asked in a very teasing voice.

He picked up on it instantly and played his role to the hilt.

"Are you alone?"

"I am..."

"Ron's not there?"

"No, darling. It's just you and I."

"I like my women a little saucy..."

"Do you now?" I cooed into the phone.

"I loved the photos you gave to Ron for me and I'd like to see more of that very sexy body you have..."

"Oh, I'd like to show you more too!"

"What would you think if I called you on my computer and we could FaceTime for a bit?"

I hesitated before answering him.

"How badly do you want to see me naked again?" I teased.

He hung up and I readied my iPad on a little tripod I had set up out on the patio. If I was going to be back in school... I was going to be right at the front of the class. Ha ha The call came through and I made sure that I was out of view when I answered.

"Are you ready for a little treat, darling?" I cooed at him again.

I could tell that he was a little speechless and instead of him being in control, I was the one leading this little get-together.

Call me old school, but I have a love of good stripping music and I had an entire routine that I did at a couple of the swinger's conventions Ron and I had attended over the past few years. I cued my music and swirled into view of the camera's lens. I could hear St. John clap and cheer as I twisted and twirled to the beat. I had 7 veils on, but it was not going to take me 7 songs to shed them all!

I'll spare you the details, but suffice to say, you'd have enjoyed it too!

When I was completely naked and the music had come to an end, I scooped St. John up into my arms and carried him high up to our bedroom. I placed him an appropriate distance from the bed so he could see me and then I stretched out naked on the cool comforter and we continued our conversation. I think teacher liked my effort!

* * *

I didn't tell Ron about my striptease or a few of the other things that happened early in our adventure. I wanted to hold a few things back and let St. John control Ron's exposure to make sure he too was enjoying everything in a kind of slowed down way. I was having the time of my life and the last thing I wanted was for my sweet husband to get spooked by my sluttiness and bolt just as I was finding my stride! (Obviously I have told him all about the things I did before writing this. He did better than I gave him credit for, though and very quickly he was enjoying himself as much as I was!)

* * *

St. John arranged our dinner get-together for a Tuesday evening at a very exclusive steak house downtown. It was a quiet night in the restaurant lounge--perfect for frank conversation and a little mischievous play. Both Ron and St. John were dressed in a jacket and tie. I wore a medium sheer white blouse, tight skirt and strappy high heels.

I had lost a bit of my bravado that I had had for our earlier striptease/conversation and was feeling just a little bit nervous about the night. I don't know if it was Ron being there that threw me off a bit or what. Perhaps it was my woman's intuition that was tingling and making me jittery.

We started with drinks and just nice conversation. Nothing significant and nothing too sexual. The waitress knew St. John and just let him set the pace. As we talked, I happened to notice the bartender mixing our drinks across the room. I had been seated so that I was facing him directly and only had to look up to see him. He was impressive to say the least! Very nicely dressed, clean shaven... including his head, and very well built! Oh my! Very well built! Don't ask me why, but very well muscled men have always given me moist panties and this man was no exception to that little rule! I know what you're thinking... he was black, but actually he wasn't. He was a very rugged, white guy!

After our second drink, nature was calling and I excused myself from the table. I had to walk past the bar and as I did, he made eye contact with me. Two drinks had me just feeling a little bit warm, but I was still very much sober. As I walked past and looked at him, I was sure he gave me a little wink as he smiled quietly. The ladies room was down a darkened little hallway and I made my way to the large, frosted door. My legs were just a little bit shakier than when I had first stood up from our table.

My heart was beating like a drum and my little antennae were twitching around like crazy! 'Was the bar tender going to slip into the ladies room as soon as I was in a compromising way in one of the little cubicles? Jesus, I wouldn't put it past St. John to plan something like this...' I didn't know if I was hoping or terrified! I entered the stall and closed the door. I did not lock it. I slipped my panties down my thighs and squatted. Suddenly I heard the big frosted door open. 'Shit! Shit! Shit! He's here!' my mind screamed. I held my breath and listened, the sound of my own blood was swishing in my ears! I looked at the lock on the door of the cubicle and I fought with my own insecurities... 'should I lock it or leave it open? Fuck!'

I was sure a guy of his size and ruggedness must have a big cock', I thought to myself. 'Maybe even a HUGE cock! Oh Brenda... you ARE such a slut!' I wasn't afraid for my virtue or my safety. I'm not sure I was even afraid. All of this was just so new... I think, perhaps, it was just the old programming playing havoc with my mind. I listened for the sound of his foot steps, but there was nothing.

Suddenly, there was the click, click, click sound of a woman's high heels on the tiled floor. "SHIT!" I whispered to myself. The door of another cubicle closed loudly, followed by the steely sound of the latch. I wasn't sure if I was happy or disappointed. Both, I guess.

I finished my business and stood to pull my panties up. A devilish thought crossed my mind and instead of pulling them up... I slipped them off and tucked them into my handbag. I checked myself in the mirror and freshened my hair and lipstick before exiting the room. I had been hoping that perhaps this ladies room would have turned out to have been the true... Chamber of Secrets. It was a good fantasy.

With all the confidence in the world, I strutted up the dark little hallway and into the lounge area once again. My own heels telegraphing my approach on the hard flooring. As I walked past the bar I slowed and waited for my bartender to look up and notice me. Apparently his hearing is just fine, because as I reentered the lounge he was looking right at me. I stopped and looked across over to our table, checking on both Ron and St. John. The hunk took my pause to mean that I wanted something. If he only knew!

As he approached, I looked him daringly in the eyes. He was so gorgeous!

"Would you like something?" he asked. His voice was deep and a little gravelly.

"Indeed I would," I said in a hushed voice.

"What can I get you?"

"Oh, darlin'", I cooed. "If you only knew..."

He took the hint and the bait and bent over the bar closely. So close, I'm sure he had no problem enjoying the subtle little bit of perfume I had sprayed deep in my cleavage.

"Come close, you gorgeous man", I whispered and as he did, I reached into my handbag.

He was all in and played right along with me. I took his large hand in mine and held it long enough for him to feel the heat of my touch.

"If you'd like to help a lady out sometime..." I said, not finishing my sentence.

As I pulled my hands from his, I left my tiny little panties and my cell number in his firm grip.

"Call me?"

I left it as a question and returned to the table with Ron and St. John. I was quite proud of myself. I thought I'd acted like a perfect little slut! And now... I was pantiless with a moist pussy, surely leaving a little track on the cool leather of my chair.

* * *

The evening was great fun and the meal delicious! St. John was the perfect host and led Ron and I through his world of parties and possibilities. He had many ideas for us to think about and I could tell that Ron was as much under his spell as I was. He was not going to say just which of his stories he would include us in, but I knew those that he didn't, I was going to enjoy on my own!

I thought Ron was going to cum right in his pants when St. John asked him what he thought about having my pussy stretched? He described a number of his very well endowed friends who specialized in taking wives such as myself and treating us to a truly unforgettable experience!

"You would love sitting back, sipping a cold beer or such and watching Brenda take the biggest cock you've ever seen... What do you think? Maybe I'll give her to a couple of bulls to work their magic on her and stretch that tight little pussy real fine! I'll make sure your wife has the experience of her life. And the sound of her moans... you'll never get that out of your head, my friend. I promise!"

He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to Ron.

"When you get home, take a minute and look this up on the internet. There's the 'g' spot, of course and some know about the 'a' spot, but this one is not as well known and is often referred to as... the dark spot."

We both looked at what he'd written. 'Fornix'

"Fornix?" I asked, wondering if I had pronounced it correctly.

"Posterior fornix actually. The anterior fornix is what is referred to, colloquially, as the 'a' spot, but I would like to show you the posterior fornix... 'the dark spot'. Look it up and we'll talk more about it when you have."

'Oh my!' I thought to myself. 'Dinner, drinks and science class too! How dull.'

"Tell me one thing about watching Brenda getting fucked that really turns you on?" he asked Ron.

Ron looked at him a moment, thinking, then answered, "Listening to her moan and groan," he answered.

"What would you say if I could guarantee you, that she'll moan and groan and squeal like you've never heard her do before in your life? Would that interest you?"

Ron just looked at him, glassy-eyed and nodded.

It was as if he was trying to paint a picture in Ron's mind with no regard, whatsoever, that I was sitting right there listening to all of this! I had heard some good story tellers in my day, but no one could hold a candle to this man. He was so good! I stole a glance over to the bar a couple of times while St. John was talking and I thought to myself that he'd better hurry and fuck me, or my bartender may beat him to it. I was dying to find out if the size of his cock matched the size of everything else he was showing. Dare to dream, girl.

As he led us through the fantasies we had in our own heads, I could see he was watching Ron's every little reaction to the wild things he was saying. I think that St. John knew, instinctively, that Ron was much more fragile than I was. My mind was swimming in a beautiful, warm pool of ideas and possibilities, but Ron was still very much in the real world and struggling to wrap his head around just what we'd gotten ourselves into. I knew that he was sitting there with a beautiful tent pole in his pants, but I think St. John's straight forward talk unnerved him.

What I knew about, my dear husband, that St. John did not, was the little fact that Ron can go from one state of mind to something totally opposite in the blink of an eye and it would only take him saying the wrong thing. He's a good guy, but struggles with his temper at times.

"Just look at her beautiful mouth," St. John said to Ron. "I'll bet you've watched her suck dozens of strange cocks, haven't you?'