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Lynn Learning
By
Sarah84

Lynn Learning

Lynn's fantasies of being used as a slut are realised
Lynn

I am I suppose, a pretty ordinary 20 year old girl living an ordinary life in a very ordinary little English village. I have an older sister who has, much to the pleasure of my rather conservative parents, “done the right thing” by getting married and having babies. I work all day in the village shoe shop, I live at home with my parents, and I go out on the weekends with friends - to the cinema or to either of our favourite pubs, The Duke of Wellington or The Waterhouse. As far as the world around me is concerned I am the epitome of the innocent school girl both in looks and in behaviour. I have brown hair to below my shoulders, brown eyes, an innocent smile and dress in an unremarkable way but fashionably appropriate for a girl my age.

What neither my friends nor family know is that the outwardly visible image is the perfect foil for the girl that hides within the shell; I harbour a dark and dirty secret which I discovered only when I was around 17 years old. In our village there is little to do apart from go to school, go to university (if you can afford it) get a job, spread your legs (and a little happiness) for the lads, get married and make many more little images of yourself to perpetuate the cycle.

I have done all of the above except for the getting married and making babies bit. The sex has been unimaginative, unexciting and generally left me unfulfilled; it’s usually a rushed affair that has taken place on the unmade bed in the dirty bachelor flat of one of the lads in town. The very idea of non-conformity would be a recipe to have one sent to the colonies to repent. After work I would get home to the same routine, night after night: tea with mum and dad, help mum with a few chores, go to my room to escape, come down for dinner, watch a bit of telly with dad and go to bed to masturbate myself to sleep.

One night, near suicidal with boredom, I powered up my computer to look for something, anything to take my mind off my misery. I decided to do a search on erotic stories and was amazed at how many sites popped up. Choosing the first one on the page, I opened it up and discovered not only were there stories but they were categorised as well. There were chat rooms and personal profiles and even discussion forums. Intrigued I started reading and was soon lost in a fantasy world of straight sex, lesbian sex and many others I could not get my head around. There was no end to the chills and thrills and tingles that coursed through my body that night until around midnight when sleep got the better of me. I dreamed the most debauched dreams and couldn’t wait to get back into cyberspace to continue my discovery.

Some nights and a considerable number of solo orgasms later I was reading a story about a young girl taken and seduced by a slightly older black man. The very idea of sex across the racial divide was for me as erotic and taboo as I could ever have imagined but even more exciting than that, was what he did to her. I learned that facials did not happen in the beauty parlour. I learned of the invasion of a girl’s most private and secret hole by a man. I learned of girls being used, yes used by multiple men, and that love was not a prerequisite for sex.

I learned that there was a status in being a “slut”. The words, the activities, the descriptions filled me with such wonder, such amazement that for the first time in my short life I knew I was not simply going to discreetly spread a bit of happiness for the lads. I was going to be the queen of happiness. My mission was carved out for me as surely as it was for the 11 th Century Crusaders sent out to spread Christianity and conquer Islam. I was to become a slut.

Around this time, I met online a girl named Sarah. Although unashamedly lesbian, something I could not, even as a slut, get my head around, I found her undeniably sexy and sexual. We talked about many things until eventually I confessed to her my slut ambitions. In the talking, I confess to more than once finding myself secretly, gently teasing my sex, bringing myself to soft but beautiful orgasm. Whilst Sarah clearly could not identify with such things as facials and having a man invade my most secret and private hole with his penis, she was encouraging and happy to talk about these subjects. Her attitude was simply that “if it’s erotic then it matters not who or what is involved. I am a slave to the erotic”.

Very late one night during one of our chats, Sarah surprised me by saying how she had imagined taking me. Before long I was admitting to this girl the most private and intimate details of my body. It at once embarrassed me and excited me to imagine a girl finding pleasure in my body. She started to describe in detail what she would do, what she was imagining; how she was aroused by my descriptions of my breasts, my privates covered in a downy dark bush.

I became aware that she too was aroused and that we were both masturbating. She guided me through a sequence of steps that culminated in a mind-numbing, man-eating orgasm for both of us. I was immediately filled with remorse that I had cyber-fucked a girl but could not get out of my head her descriptions, how she in words alone had brought to life our copulations and led me to ecstasy.

Sarah

One might describe me as a serial surfer of erotic story and adult social network sites. I don’t think it’s so much that I am weird or perverted but rather that I do generally speaking genuinely love the company of the girls that I meet on these sites. I am 29, rapidly sliding down the slippery slope towards the dirty thirties which is a thought that terrifies me. I for the most part, live alone and have done since mid-twenties. I’ve been lesbian for all of my sexually active life and for the last two years or so have by choice been single. I have a close and trusted network of friends in much the same position as I who similarly explore the adult social network sites. When needed, we do get together and take care of each other’s emotional and physical needs.

So here I was, late one night, browsing through member profiles when I came across one particularly attractive girl. Okay, so she states that she’s “straight” but I have learned over time that people do not necessarily, for whatever reason, describe themselves precisely in these things. I think it’s to do with labels. If we use a label the danger is we become that label and too often, the definitions (both our own and those of others who read the label) are too narrow and put us into too neat and rigid a box; forgive the little philosophical aside. I decided to take a chance and write to her, measure the response if any, and then plot my next strategy. Surprisingly within a matter of hours she has responded. We become “friends” and start chatting.

There is something totally captivating about my new friend. Lynn in time describes to me her fantasies of becoming a slut. In one session, I send her a number of images I find that illustrate the point as far as her fantasies are concerned. Pictures of men discharging their man juice over young girls’ faces. Pictures of girls sucking one, sometimes multiple huge, black man appendages. I am intrigued and increasingly aroused, not by the pictures themselves but by the obvious excitement this exchange is causing in my new friend. We start a sort of role play in which I describe a scene to her and we build onto that scene in words, our minds totally free, our respective imagination leading Lynn to orgasm.

She confesses to me that she is obsessed; that she masturbates repeatedly to the word pictures we create, to her own imagined encounters with black men who ravage and use her, calling her unspeakably dirty names before dumping their man juice in and upon her body. We describe how she is used not in the comfort of a warm, clean bed, but in the dark shadows of a car park or against a dumpster in a smelly alley, and how she must in turn catch the bus home with the evidence of her excesses dripping from her girl parts onto her skirt and indeed the seat of the bus. The conflicting embarrassment, humiliation of this evidence of her sexual excesses juxtaposed with her delight at the pleasure she has brought to those rampant man organs. Outwardly she remains for all to see, the innocent school girl image which is but an alter-ego for the dirty girl slut she craves to be.

Readers, I give you this to paint a picture for you. Throughout all this I am increasingly aroused by and attracted to this girl. I decide I want to meet her, something I have never done with anybody I have met online and something to which she agrees. We decide on one of the pubs in town for Friday night and I give strict instructions on how she is to dress. Yes dear readers, it turns out our little slut is also somewhat submissive and responds to power and command.

It is a warm evening for a change so she is to wear a short denim skirt with no knickers, a camisole top in raw silk without a bra, and pumps with heels enough to display her calf muscles but not enough to draw too much attention; in other words, sexy but not skanky. The rough raw silk of her top will rub coarsely against her nipples causing them to appear permanently aroused. I have, unbeknownst to Lynn, asked a couple of friends to come to the pub as well.

Jake is 30, an accountant, 6’2”, muscled and black as the ace of spades. He is a clearly very fit and a frightening image to contemplate meeting in a dark alley but in reality he is the most gentle and loving of men. Jake loves women with a passion bordering on obsession. Some might even describe him as dangerously promiscuous. Mark who is a journalist is a little shorter than Jake but similarly built. He doesn’t have a permanent relationship, preferring to have a number of friends with benefits. I love them both for their honesty about who and what they are, but more importantly for the fact that they totally accept who and what I am. I’ve recently noticed too that they are somewhat protective of me if we are ever out together. This is of course unnecessary but rather sweet.

Lynn

I am scared shitless. Sarah has arranged to meet me at the pub but given me strict instruction on how to dress. I have never ventured out of my bedroom without knickers, let alone into town and certainly not to the pub. Braless I can cope with as I am not particularly well endowed in that area and so, much to mum’s disgust I often hang free. I love the way they jiggle when I walk and even more so the stares I get from men and, I have to acknowledge, some girls. Fortunately mum and dad are out so they will not see the way I am dressed when I leave.

Much as I am excited to meet Sarah because she has become a good friend, I am not sure what to expect. I am filled with terrified excitement at the thought she may try to make out with me. I have told her repeatedly I am straight, something she seems to accept and respect, yet there is the small matter of the times I have become aroused during our chats and masturbated.

I arrive at the pub and because I have seen photos of her, it doesn’t take me long to spot Sarah sitting at a table in a corner. It’s one of those coffee table things not with chairs, but rather, it’s placed between two leather sofas facing each other. She is on one of the sofas and across from her sit two guys, but she doesn’t seem to be with them; it’s more as if they are sharing the table.

Oh my goodness! The one guy is black and looks huge, well built. The other guy is a white lad who also seems to be well built. In horror, I suddenly remember I am commando and sitting on that sofa across from those guys… well I don’t know how I am going to manage this. I contemplate turning and running, but that would be rude. I walk up to the table and Sarah stands, takes my hand as if to shake hands but rather, she pulls me to her and kisses me lightly on the lips and whispers into my ear

“You’ll make a good slut.”

The two guys barely acknowledge me as I sit and Sarah orders me a glass of white wine. She is I think drinking gin and tonic. Details become a little blurry at this point so I’ll do my best to keep on track and hope that it all makes sense. We chat and by the second glass of wine I am definitely more relaxed. Sarah is not really flirting but is definitely staking her claim to me. The guys appear to be ignoring me or maybe they are simply preoccupied with their conversation which sounds very complicated to me from the little snippets I overhear.

Sarah

Lynn looks stunning when she arrives. She has the lightest touch of makeup which simply accentuates her beauty without it being a distraction. She is not tall nor does she have particularly long legs but the combination of the heels and the very short skirt really make her legs look as if they stretch forever. When she sits on the sofa, she is looking at and talking to me so she doesn’t notice the guys’ reactions. It is clear that they have had a glimpse of her bare sex, a point they acknowledge to me with exaggerated raised eyebrows.

We chat a bit and before long Lynn is starting to relax. Judging by the expressions on the faces of Jake and Mark I assume she is also less conscious of the fact her girlie bits are on display for all to see. She says she needs to wee and so as she’s sitting on the inside position of the sofa, I stand to make way for her. As she squeezes past me I lightly but in an “accidental” sort of way feel her rather cute bum. Her back is barely turned to walk away when I wink to the guys, tell to watch our bags, and follow her. I know I have only a few seconds to get to the loo before she closes the door to her stall. If that happens I will almost certainly be too late.

I enter just as I see her fixing her hair in the mirror before heading into the stall.

“Lynn, wait,” I call to her, which startles her some but she stops half in and half out of the stall. I push in after her and close the door, signalling that she should be quiet. I take her in my arms and kiss her firmly. She resists, pulls away and says

“No Sarah, I told you I am straight.”

“Yes Lynn you did, but you also have been telling me what a slut you want to be. You have masturbated your dirty little pussy while chatting to me online so don’t tell me you don’t want it now. After I have had you, those two guys at our table are also going to have you.”

“Oh my God Sarah no, I don’t know if I can. It’s one thing to talk about it in a chat with you but another altogether to be confronted with actually doing it.”

I take Lynn and kiss her again, this time with more intensity. She still resists but I sense a wavering in her attitude so I start whispering to her, telling her all the things I am going to do to her and when I’ve finished, all the things the guys are going to do to her. While I am talking by hands moving down her back to her bum, over her bum and down between her legs. She tries valiantly to resist but I can tell it is half hearted. Without warning I enter her from behind and feel how completely soaked she is.

My fingers work her pussy for some minutes before I whisper, “Ah the dirty little slut is enjoying this isn’t she?”

She shakes her head but her eyes have a glazed look about them as I push her against the wall and kneel in front of her. Her skirt is so short that access to her treasure is very easy, and I waste no time getting there. All the while she meekly protests that she is straight and doesn’t want a girl. Well, whether she wants a girl or not is not the point. The point is to make her the slut that she has fantasised about, and to this end I am soon working away on her pussy. She tastes delicious and it’s not long before she is whimpering unintelligibly and with hips thrusting is succumbing to a quiet but powerful orgasm.

he calms and wants to have the wee she came to the loo for in the first place but I refuse her. I tell her to straighten up and we both step out of the stall. There is another girl standing at the washbasins and I realise as I think does Lynn, that she must have heard us. She looks at me then at Lynn, shakes her head in apparent disgust and continues with what she is doing. We wash our hands and I rinse Lynn’s girl juice from my face before we head back to the boys. By the time we get there they have settled the bill and are ready with our handbags to leave. The four of us walk out, outwardly as if nothing has happened, although what is going on in dear Lynn’s mind is anybody’s guess.

I do not introduce the boys to Lynn because the boys and I have decided that to truly be a slut she should not even know the names of the men who use her. We walk across the car park and through a gate at the back which leads to a small park which at this time on a Friday night is deserted. While we are walking hand in hand I continue telling Lynn about all the dirty things the boys are going to do to her but I also reassure her that at any point she has only to say “NO” once, and everything will stop. This is after all about her becoming the slut she fantasised about, not anything mean or cruel.

Lynn

If I was scared shitless before I arrived at the pub, I am inwardly anyway, a complete wreck now. Sarah is attentive and clearly dominating our interaction which I find endearing but also quite arousing. My mind yoyos between my self-proclaimed status as straight, the unwanted but undeniable arousal I am feeling as we sit and chat and the awareness that I am commando. Try as I might to prevent it, I am sure the boys sitting opposite me have had their fair share of opportunities to see my naked sex. This thought embarrasses me enormously and at once excites me.

I need to wee and for some reason I ask Sarah’s permission which she gives by standing up to make way for me to pass. Apart from wanting to wee, I am also keen to have some alone time to catch my breath and review what has happened, and what may yet happen. I slide past her and head to the loo which is outside of the main pub and across a little courtyard to another part of the building. There are people sat at tables in the courtyard enjoying the warm evening.

I am about to enter the toilet stall when I hear Sarah call my name. Before I can acknowledge what is happening, she is in the stall with me and kissing me. Oh God is this really happening, I am being seduced by this girl. I push away which she seems to accept but then starts whispering the dirtiest thoughts into my ear and kisses me again. I cannot stop myself from responding which seems to ignite further the flames of her desire because then her hands are on my bum and I am pushing into her.

I cannot believe it; she has her hand between my legs and then I feel her fingers enter me. There is something brutal about being invaded in this way, yet she is so gentle. I cannot explain my feelings other than to admit that I know I am soaked. She pushes me against the wall and is between my legs ravaging my sex with her mouth. I am powerless to resist and cum mightily. I fear I may even have gushed because she seems to be swallowing furiously.

The rest is a blur, except I seem to think when we stepped out of the loo there was another girl there who may have given me a dirty look. My next recollection however is that we are walking across the car park, Sarah holding my hand and telling me the unimaginably dirty things that the boys are going to do to me when we get to the little park which is at the end of the car park and behind the pub. I need to wee because Sarah didn’t allow it in the loo but the boys, yes the same boys that only a moment ago were strangers sharing our table, are now walking with us. We get to an area of the park where there is a night light shining. It’s not bright but gives enough light for us all to see each other.

The boys approach me and the black guy takes me and kisses me hard, his lips crushing mine. I am not sure whether to be scared or excited but judging from the feelings in my girlie bits I am more than a little excited. The fantasies I have shared with Sarah are seemingly becoming reality. I can stop it now if I want to but don’t. The other guy has pulled his manhood out and although he’s not fully hard I can see its bigger than any of the lads I have been with. Black Guy pushes me to my knees and White Guy comes to me with his cock in his hand. I know intuitively what is expected and I open my mouth to receive him.

There is no love, no affection and no emotion. I am their toy and they are going to play with me. Now Black Guy has his out; if White Guy is big, Black Guy is terrifyingly enormous. White guy steps back to be replaced by Black Guy. I can barely get my mouth around his monster. I don’t know when or how it happened but I am naked with Black Guy in my mouth and my hand around White Guy. This goes on for I don’t know how long until White Guy shoots a seemingly endless stream of his man juice onto my face and over my tits.

I seem to recall Black Guy picking me up, and still standing, gently lowering me onto his shaft. I am stretched to the limit, can barely breath in the face of this exquisite agony. I don’t know what animal noises I made or how many times I was taken beyond the clouds and the rain. My next awareness is lying on the soft grass, my head cradled against Sarah’s breasts.

She’s gently whispering to me and there is no sign of either Black Guy or White Guy. My face and breasts are covered in their man juice and I can feel it leaking from my deliciously aching sex. How could this gentle girl have made these debauched fantasies of mine come true? Will I ever be the same again? What monster have we created? I don’t know the answers to these questions and I don’t care. Right now, I am a slut and Sarah is soothing away any troubled thoughts I may have...

***

This story is, as all of my stories are a blend of reality and a judicious interpretation of a version of the truth. The characters are real, the events, well I leave you the reader to decide where truth ends and fantasy begins; or maybe it’s where fantasy ends and truth begins?
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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