Of mental anguish, I was amply blessed, but those who have tend to receive—a form of Karmic compound interest. I’d spent twenty years getting my head straightened out to evolve into a woman who was strong, independent, comfortable in her sexuality, and who wore the slut label with pride. It only took one man and his merry band of misfits, over a few hours, to unravel me, completely. He didn’t play fair, and it had me off-...

“Hello. My name is Krystal, and I’m a slut… a fucking horny slut.” The bitch in the mirror stared back at me with indignant condescension; she’d heard my chant a hundred times in the past week. “My pussy is always dripping wet.” I flashed my reflection, fingering my cunt. “And… oh, fuck…I cum…so hard, so fast, uh, aah, aah!” The bitchy image of me called me all sorts of vile names. Bitch, slut, whore, skank, witch-slut, a...

Years passed, but time stopped. While external, life-changing things happened, externally, my body, mind, and heart were in a sort of stasis-like holding pattern. Life and my age advanced; the house was now my home, and I was hitting the venerable thirty years old. The relationship between my parents, especially my mother, and me remained strained, but we still kept in contact. But, in that span of years, I’d evolved from...

Hawk was a bad boy, and just looking at him made my pussy gush. That was the first time any person had that effect on me, and it changed my life. Although his name was Dale, everyone called him Hawk, a truncated version of Hawkson, his last name. I’d become something of a serial girlfriend in my quest to find love, and I was, as usual, between partners at that moment. I’d gone for almost three weeks without hooking up, no...

In my youth, my home life was filled with love and acceptance. Perhaps the nature versus nurture debate is further confounded by my upbringing; the two intertwine to become almost one and the same. Looking at my life through one lens, the fact that I am exactly like my mother, despite my fullest efforts to the contrary, is starkly evident. Likewise, another snapshot would reveal that I am most definitely a product of my e...

Knowing why something is never changes the fact that it is, and, when cause and effect become intertwined, the topic or question becomes convoluted and mind-boggling. For instance, if one knows why Johnny Quarterback is an arrogant, self-entitled douche, it doesn’t change the fact that he truly is a feminine hygiene product that one might use on a Midsummer’s Eve. Causality just adds self-spiraling repetition. One can, by...

By the time I’d turned twenty-one, I had blossomed into a major, horny slut. With glacial slowness, I began to realize that I wasn’t the ugly duckling I’d been led to believe. That slow epiphany came through constant attention paid to me by every heterosexual male in a thousand-mile radius. It further confounded my inner turmoil; I had several identities that included a socially-acceptable, quirky but normal young woman,...

Slut: Despite being unemployed at the time, I was in high spirits around the Holiday Season. My life was in shambles, but I was determined to find happiness. When Jen, my best and, sometimes, only friend called me, which she often did, she asked if I’d like some company for a week or two. I was elated. Life in my hometown hadn’t been all emotional abuse, physical bullying, and hellish torture. My home life was actually qu...

Slowly and imperceptibly, awareness and responsibility crept in, both of them having the prefix “self-.” Objectively, which was all but impossible for me, at that time, I didn’t have too terrible of an existence. It just wasn’t the life I needed. I had been on the planet for less than a score of years, and I already had a large, modern house without a mortgage. Even better, the fact that Dave gave me the deed to the house...

Horny and rushing to an early business appointment, my mind was consumed by sexual thoughts and impulses. My main office computer, a tired, ancient, whining machine, was being replaced, and the computer store offered free setup and networking. I could easily do it myself—I do it to myself all the time—but I made a very boss-like decision and delegated the task to professionals, for free. However, having to be there two ho...

While my short tenure on campus blazed the path my future would take, the life of a college student was not for me. Unlike high school, which was a daily ordeal of ridicule and torture, even the teachers joining in on the fun of tormenting me, my collegiate academic record was impressive. I just couldn’t fathom why the other students whined so much about how difficult their classes were. All I needed to do was to read the...

As serendipitous as unleashing my slutty powers of sluthood was, such a momentous step was not without a dark side. While I no longer seemed to care as much about other’s opinions of me, the emotional and spiritual carnage of my formative years not only still remained, but it was exponentially bolstered by taking those steps. My duality, a Jungian archetype, possessed me and shredded my soul. Acting like a dirty slut was...

The word, “slut,” holds a life-defining impact. The monosyllabic phrase has power over me, you, men, and women. No matter how one disguises or makes light of it, the negative connotations remain. Even in today’s culture of tolerance and acceptance, being labeled as a slut is the death knell of society. Women use it as a word of condescending judgment or, sometimes, to mark an impassable barrier, the territory beyond which...

My skin was smooth and glowing; one of the benefits of being covered in cum is that it’s good for the skin. I had a massive to-do list—party preparations—and the young men from Top Cuts Landscaping ultimately had to spend the entire day at my house getting things ready. Dressed in nothing fancy, just a regular housedress, I supplied sandwiches, snacks, cool beverages, and a hot pussy along with my eager, greedy mouth. I r...

My idea was either a stroke of genius, or I was insane and delusional. I’d know which one in just a few hours. “Welcome to a very special, double-broadcast edition of Keaton’s Sinns,” the sultry brunette, wearing a slutty, latex nurse uniform, said to the plethora of cameras. Keaton was hosting her show in my living room. She and her crew had flown in from the West Coast that morning, and I’d spent the entire day cooking...