Slut training Stories

"Next." Professor Vance tapped his clipboard as he surveyed his class at University of Sluts, Los Amigos. His eyes landed on me. Cold. Expectant. My legs trembled as I stood. The walk to the front felt endless. Eyes followed me. Judging. I stopped before the desk. Vance’s gaze swept over me. Lingering on my throat. My wrists. "You understand the requirements?" His voice was low. Rough. I nodded. Too fast. "I can't hear yo...

WAKING UP I woke to the soft rustle of cotton against my skin and the ache of a stiff, frustrated cock pressing helplessly inside its cage. My nightgown had twisted up around my waist during the night, the fabric now damp and clinging, soaked with pre-cum and sweat, knickers a sticky mess. The memory of what I’d seen on screen—the way she’d looked at her black Master, the way her lips parted around the head of his cock—pl...

DECISION We’d been talking about it for months—those wine-soaked whispers that drifted between us in the dark, barely more than breath and heat. Hotwife roleplay, cuckold, humiliation, voyeurism… They’d lived in our search history, our pillow talk, our dirtiest dreams. But this time, we were finally ready to step out of fantasy. Not recklessly. We weren’t about to dive headlong into some anonymous swingers’ party or sleaz...

Man, it's a hot one, like seven inches from the midday sun. The opening lyrics from the Santana song “Smooth” couldn’t describe this bikers’ trip any better. Five of us biker buddies had decided to head across Washington State to take in some motorcycle racing and have some fun. It had started as a simple idea when my good buddy Doug suggested the trip to take in some racing. He dabbled in professional racing and knew qui...