KEEPERSHIPS - KEEPERSHIPS At A Glance

This is the first installment of a two or more part series entitled "The Good Slut." Part 1 is largely a setup for Part 2 but the length warranted a split. The premise is about what happens when a woman craves sex just like a man but is socially adept enough to know not to let it define her reputation? Find out in the first installment of "The Good Slut." If you haven't read my other stories check out my submissions on my username Nothing made you cringe more than when you heard another woman say it "How come when a guy does it it's acceptable but when a girl does it she's considered a slut?" The way the entire argument was framed was what you hated most about it. It was a proud display of ignorance at the very moment the woman speaking it was certain she was making a point. Whenever you heard these words spoken you automatically scanned for the nearest exit. And it happened more often than you ever would have imagined like a karmic curse for having thoroughly embraced the title but only in complete secrecy. After all, what was wrong with being a slut? Men didn't secretly sneak away from their wives for the company of prude pious women. They don't throw money at women who preach and practice abstinence. When they search for porn they don't search for "Happily married couple copulating in missionary position." What made it so absurd was that the argument implied that there was something wrong with being a slut. If you bothered to waste your time debating such an oblivious argument you might respond like this, "Because there is nothing special about it when a man does it, but when a woman does it she can, and has, change the course of history. Nothing diverts men from their petty games of power save a woman who will fulfill their deepest and darkest desires. Men are willing to throw away fortunes, destroy families, even ruin themselves – all for just a taste – of the slut." Slut isn't a word of shame – it's a symbol of power, perhaps the greatest power of all. And you knew it. Of course, there were the women who did "slut" wrong – gave the title a bad name. Their inner weaknesses – drugs, money, attention – left unchecked these desires sewed the seeds of their own destruction but you could understand why. Those were rewards of the slut but a good slut knows never to make them her main goals. A true slut remains loyal to the passion. You don't just wake up and decide you're going to be a slut one day – it's a force that lies latent inside of every woman. You were well aware of this passion at a very young age and recognized early on that if you weren't careful it could consume you. The primordial urge is a force to be respected, studied, explored, controlled, honed, and finally mastered. When you make the decision that you're going to live your life as a slut you are empowered with capabilities that a lesser woman who taps into its force can destroy everything around her including herself. There were some principles that you decided to live by when you decided to take this path. The most important rule of them all was to keep it separate from your public life. It all started late in your sexual maturity, which you recognize now was an advantage, but even on your 20th birthday you were still a virgin, and everyone knew it. You were the good girl, straight A's in school, stayed away from the drinking and partying in college and everyone thought they knew you. You remember it was on your 20th birthday when you decided to finally take the plunge– when that initial rush of embracing the slut lifestyle first washed over you like a drug. And this was an active decision, one that you had been contemplating for years. A decision that you let the deepest recesses of your mind flirt with all the while having no man go even as far as letting a hand up your shirt. As a teenager you knew you'd never have a problem finding a guy to have sex with you. These early years had taught you the fine art of positioning yourself just beyond a man's reach, enjoying the benefits of their attempts to even just go on a date with you. And no, this wasn't because you were the hottest girl in school, but you did carry all the necessary assets. You stayed fit keeping your stomach tight, had perky gravity defying breasts, a pair of full alluring lips coupled with a gorgeous smile with shining white teeth and eyes that spoke volumes without a sound. Once a guy who you allowed to take you on a date pointed all of these things out to you and he commented that the most dangerous thing about them was that you knew it and you did. The slightest adjustment of your gaze could immediately register the reactions you expected them to and you never – ever – broke eye contact first. You were an expert at dressing conservatively seductive and spent your teenager years gauging the reaction of hundreds of guys as you reached around them, bent over just right, and innocently brushed them or indistinctly touched them. The subtleties you practiced as a teenager were endless and bordering on obsessive. For months at a time you'd become fascinated with how different men responded to certain phrases you would use in just the right way, certain clothes that you'd wear, and certain looks that you'd give. And yet there was an order to their responses, a predictability to their behavior. In fact, so predictable was their behavior that you started making formulas in your mind on how you could get guys to give you things without doing anything that resembled asking. And none of these were "slutty" by any stretch of the imagination. Nothing about the way you dressed, acted, or spoke would be considered "slutty" by the stereotypical definition. Most of the time guys attributed them to your naive virginity as this reputation was so well known about you that by the your sophomore year of college you had almost become a mythical legend amongst both the guys and girls on campus. But you were anything but naive. As your 20th birthday approached you had attained a socially powerful position within both the academic and social circles. You even had professors inviting you over to their house for dinner but you only accepted when others were with you. You never allowed a man to sully your pristine reputation with a lie that they had somehow done something with you. But that didn't mean you never let men take you out on dates, spend money on you, give you attention, or buy you things. But these men were thoroughly vetted before they were allowed and had to be deemed honest and not attractive enough for rumors starting to spread. With more attractive guys you would always go on double-dates or have a friend with you so that there was no question about you reputation. At night when you imagined the amount of men who you knew were rubbing their cocks just wishing for a chance to kiss you you would lay in your room for hours slowly driving yourself into a frenzy with fingers and toys of all shapes, sizes, and purposes. Throughout your teenage years as you played your games your mind was not the conservative, innocent girl that everyone believed you to be. About the only thing that was true about you was that you were in fact a virgin. A virgin from sexual contact with any other person but not a virgin with inanimate objects. In high school you'd ask cute boys to borrow their pens just to hide in the bathroom stall and use them on your clit, sliding them up inside of you, only to return them to their unsuspecting owners later as you watched them use it again, some even putting them absent-mindedly in their mouth. But your darkest secret of your teenage years was the porn. It was your only release as you meticulously played your boy experiments, honing your craft. But being a slut, knowing you're a slut, even from a very young age but yet not acting on it was self-inflicted torture. It was always alone in your bedroom behind a locked door did you let the primordial urge overcome you, igniting your entire body with passion and need. You looked for the filthiest porn and saw what humans are under the thin veneer of society. And while you watched everything possibly imaginable fucking yourself to each, imagining each flavor of debauchery and acutely understanding how and why every form satisfied one type of person or another, the kind you found yourself going back to were the gangbangs. After an inordinate amount of consideration you realized that it was the simple feeling of being filled that turned you on the most. As you stuffed your big dildo in the front and your smaller vibrator in the rear you fucked yourself for hours sucking on the most realistic dildo you had. When you filled yourself up like this the only word that could describe you was wet – soaking wet. Saliva was always plentiful in your mouth and your pussy left wet spots so large that you always made sure you masturbated with the comforter turned up in case anyone came into your room you could hide the shockingly large wet spot hidden underneath. And when your 20th birthday came around you had made sure you made plans with friends the previous weekend claiming you would be with your family on the actual weekend of your birthday and you made plans with your family the following weekend claiming that you would be with your friends on your actual birthday. But on the eve of your birthday you were all alone in your room preparing for the first night out – the night you would lose your virginity. You wore the outfit you knew, through careful testing, drove the most men crazy – a pair of heel boots with an inviting tight knee-length skirt and a top that showed an enticing amount of cleavage, but still classy. Most girls dream about losing their virginity to the man they love so much that they never think they'll be with anyone else. But you fantasized about losing it to a stranger. You drove across town away from where the typical college crowd spent their nights drinking to a rougher part of town. As you drove you let yourself truly realize what you were doing. The bar you hand in mind wasn't going to be filled with dumb college kids but men who could be genuinely dangerous. Instead of fear creeping up inside of you a wild excitement that you have long learned to control thrashed about inside of you soaking your bright red lacy panties. You had narrowed down your venture to two bars that were two blocks apart in this seedy part of town. You had staked them out a couple times in the past with friends for fun. The men inside were more aggressive and animalistic than your average childish college boy. You choose the bar with metal bars over the window and beer signs lit up behind them. You park your car and with confidence you walk inside knowing that you'll come out with the man you'll lose your virginity to. As you walk in the room felt like it took in a deep breath and wouldn't let it go. Eyes from all corners followed you as you walked up to the bar and ordered yourself a drink, some alcohol was welcomed as you took your experimentation to the next level. You were excited, but you weren't nervous. You wouldn't allow fear to dictate this moment that you've been preparing so long for. You came in here to fuck and you were the predator, these men were the prey. As you sip your drink a muscular man in his mid-30s comes up to you fitting the only requirement you have for him, he's a stranger. As he attempts to smooth-talk you you look him up him down and find him sexually attractive. His face was worn but chiseled. When he asks you your name you ask him if it matters speaking more with your eyes than your mouth. He had a tattoo on his shoulder and you delicately yet deliberately reach your arm up, brushing his neck, and pulling his shirt to the side asking what the tattoo is an image of. Before your drink was finished he said he had a place across the street where he could show you, you oblige. In a rundown apartment that probably was not even his he begins to grab your ass tight as he walks you up the stairs to the bedroom. You don't pull away, allowing him to slide his hand up your skirt as he walks behind you. He can't help himself and halfway up the stairs he pulls your skirt up to see your tight ass poking out around your wet red panties. You pause briefly allowing him to admire and touch and in the moment he pushes his face directly into your ass inhaling deep and already beginning to tongue it. You respond by pushing your hips back into his face and he moans with pleasure. His tattoo, you find out, is a sleeve tattoo but you no longer care to look at the details. He's rough with you, just as you had hoped, grabbing you by the hair and pushing you down to your knees as he unzips his pants to suck his cock. Despite this being your first cock to suck you know it won't take any of the intimate skills that you had practiced for years because you've seen porn like this and you know that he won't be able to control himself enough to let you give him the subtle specialties of a good blowjob, this was to be a facefuck. You've practiced not letting your gag reflex get in the way and although his cock was thick it was only average in length making it easy to take. He held you by your hair as he fucked your mouth before finally turning you around pushing you onto the floor on all fours and yanking your panties down to your knees in one thrust. Like an animal he pushed himself quick and hard inside of your virgin pussy and begins fucking you hard, using your hair for leverage. You moan telling him that you need your sweet pink pussy fucked hard and this puts him into overdrive stuffing you. Suddenly, in fact too suddenly for you, he cums deep inside of you. It's the first time the hot waves of cum are injected inside of you but you instantly crave it again. After a few more pumps he's spent, pulling out and walking into the kitchen to get another beer. You take the opportunity to pull your panties up, capturing the leaking cum in them as you do, pull your skirt back to its original form, and head back down the stairs before he gets back. Once you're back outside you walk back across the street to your car and pull away thrilled you pulled it off but not at all satisfied. At the intersection you instinctively take a left towards the other bar two blocks away instead of a right back to your apartment. Within 20 minutes you were back outside in another man's car, this one taller and thinner which was a great way to describe his cock as well. He can't stop complimenting how wet you are. You smile with your face buried in the seat and moan that it's all for him feeding him the lines he thinks makes him so special. As he feverishly pumps your pussy you are already comparing the sizes and shapes of each cock that has been inside of you within the last hour, the different ways they prefer to fuck. With the endless hours of porn that you watched nothing could prepare you for the actual experiences. You enjoyed the different flavors that men came in and you had every intention to experience them all. Suddenly this new stranger pulls his cock out of your pussy, pulls your face out of the seat by your hair, and stuffs his messy cock into your mouth. You taste the flavor of the tattooed man's cum on this other man's cock and it drive you wild knowing he has no idea. You lick it clean and beg him for more which he eagerly obliges. Within 15 minutes you were back in your car, this time with two loads of cum in your pussy. Your finger slips inside of your stretched panties as you head back to your apartment. Neither man had made you cum, but that wasn't the point. You finally were ready to truly live this double life that you had been imagining and secretly preparing for years. Because how many women will proudly claim that they lost their virginity to two strange men on the same night? Now you do. The thought has you absent-mindedly bring your cum-soaked fingers to your lips and push them inside, their flavors now mixed together with your own. Along the way you stop at a gas station to fix yourself up to being presentable. It's still early, instead of going right to your apartment you can meet up with your friends telling them that you got home from your parents early. You meet up with them and as you slide comfortably back into your conservative good-girl life your cum-soaked panties serve as a constant reminder of your new secret lifestyle To be continued yourelease