“There’s a slut in need of attention.”

“Excuse me?” the tall, pretty brunette said, stopping herself from walking past the bench I was sitting at in the middle of New York’s Central Park. She wore a sexy, stylish pale-yellow summer dress with matching heels. The tone of her voice was unconvincingly offended.

I gave a warm, knowing smile as our eyes captured one another’s. “Am I wrong?” I asked matter-of-factly as if we’d known each other for years.

Her face answered sternly. “That’s so rude,” she replied. Her pitch feigned offense, yet laced with curiosity.

“It’s only rude if it’s not true,” I answered. “If it is true then it’s just honest.”

“Fuck you,” she said, continuing to spar without moving on. The fact she stopped and engaged me was already proving my suspicions.

“Exactly how?” I asked.

“How what?” she exclaimed.

“How do you want to fuck me?” I said in a calm firm tone. “You’re needy for it.”

I read her staged appalled face as she studied my appearance more closely. She assessed the toned, professional-looking stranger exposing her deepest thoughts in broad daylight. She blushed as her gaze returned to my face, betraying her portrayal of disgust. I looked normal, and even handsome, in a guy-next-door kind of way. Her mouth struggled to find intelligible words.

“Don’t get me wrong,” I said, breaking the brief awkward silence. “It’s not that you want to fuck me as much as you desperately just want to be fucked. You want nothing more than to be taken and used like a cheap whore.”

“Who do you think you are? Have we met? Do you even know me?” she asked without denying my bold assertion. Her questions fired off one after the other.

“We haven’t met. If we had, I would have remembered. As far as knowing you, yes, I believe I do.”

She looked around as if being set up. “You know nothing about me,” she asserted.

“You're twenty-eight, maybe thirty. You’ve always been social and active.  I’m guessing you live on the south side, maybe mid-town, close enough to walk here in that sexy dress and heels. Living nearby means you have anything you want. You have a few social acquaintances, but no one who knows the real you. That used to be your husband. You two also used to have amazing sex and couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You loved the ravenous passionate look in his eyes. It made you feel hot and desired. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do. The dirtier the better. You loved being his slut. Something changed all that. I’m guessing the demands of his work. He leaves early and gets home late. His work is his mistress, and maybe someone else. You two have your moments of intimacy, but nothing filthy like you used to love. How am I doing?”

“Who the fuck are you? How do you know that?” A tear traveled down her cheek. She stood uncomfortably, moving her feet as if the ground beneath her was shifting.

“You told me.” 

“I’ve never shared that with anyone,” she exclaimed, without denying a word of it. “I don’t even know you.”

“But I see you,” I answered. “You’re walking alone through a remote part of Central Park this time of day wearing that dress and those heels. You look sexy as hell, and you know it. Manhattan sluts dress differently than Roosevelt Avenue sluts. They both want the same thing. That’s why you purposely walked past those construction workers back there to enjoy the shot of dopamine when you got their attention and filthy comments. You love that they wanted to fuck and fill every hole. That’s why you’re not wearing a bra, and those long, waxed legs have no panties under that short dress. That’s also why you stopped when I called you a slut when you intentionally strolled past me. Your nipples visibly hardened.”

Her face blushed to a deeper shade of red. “You’re making me feel uncomfortable.”

“Is that what you’re feeling?”

“I feel exposed.”

“Your heart is racing, but you’re not sure why.”

“Yes. How do you know that?”

“You’re aroused. It’s that slut in you desperate to be used. How wet is your pussy?”

“Oh fuck,” she said. She blushed again. “How are you doing this?”

“I see you,” I answered.

“Oh fuck,” she repeated. Her breathing deepened. Her hands awkwardly moved across her body looking for a place to land. Her hardening nipples challenged the thin summery yellow floral fabric. “May I sit?” looking at the bench where I was sitting.

“Not yet, cunt,” I answered. “Give your aching nipples the attention they need.”

Her eyes popped impossibly wide, stunned that I knew they burned for attention. “But, they’re too sensitive...Sir.” Her words stammered before adding, “They’ll make me cum.” 

“Do not cum,” I ordered.

Her long fingers obediently slid into the low-cut top of her dress, easily finding her nipples. Her knees buckled at the feel of her enlarged nipple between her fingers and thumb. She moaned. Her mouth gaped at the sensation of her body responding to her touch. “Oh, yes,” she said. “I feel so naughty.” She was lost in her own torrid world she was desperate for. 

The sudden sound of voices growing louder made her stop and freeze. An older couple turned the corner and came down the path in our direction.

“Don’t stop,” I ordered. “Show them the filthy, needy slut you are.”

She did as I told her. She continued to tease herself as they approached, lustfully licking her painted lips.

The couple walked by holding hands. The older woman picked up her pace, aghast at the depraved woman moaning in pleasure as she tormented her swollen nipples in broad daylight. The older man’s pace slowed with his eyes riveted to see the top of the pretty woman’s dress purposely falling, completely exposing both ample tits. The couple’s arms tightened until the older woman yanked his hand forward from the sleazy distraction. “You should be ashamed,” the older woman said in disgust, pulling her husband along the path.

“I feel so dirty.”

“You are,” I answered. “You’re a filthy, worthless whore.”

“God, it’s been so long since anyone talked to me that way. It makes me so hot.”

“It’s who you are.”

“Fuck, yes,” she said. “I haven’t felt this horny in years. I need to be fucked.” She pinched her nipples harder. Her right hand moved down her body toward her pussy. She looked hungrily at me.

“You’re such a needy, cock-sucking, pussy-drenched, insatiable cum-slut.”

“You do know me,” she whispered. “You are driving me crazy.” Her hand reached under her dress, moving purposely toward her pussy. She whispered, “I’m soaked. I need to be fucked.”

“Every hole,” I affirmed. “Your needy pussy, your hungry mouth, your tight ass.”

“Oh God, yes! I’m going to cum,” she yelled. Her knees buckled. Her mouth opened with a gasp as her hand alternated between rubbing her clit, and forcefully fucking her pussy with her long fingers.

“Don’t you dare,” I commanded. “Not yet, slut.”

“Oh please, please, please,” she pleaded. “I need to be fucked. I’ll do anything.”

“What a needy, depraved little cunt. At least whores sell it. You’re nothing more than a worthless piece of meat desperate to be devoured.”

“Oh please. It’s true. Saying that makes me more desperate. Use me. There’s nothing I won’t do.”

“Why?”

“Because finally, someone sees me again.  It’s been so long. I need this.”

“Then come back tomorrow dressed like a cheap escort. No more Manhattan slutty, but who you really are, Roosevelt Avenue slutty.”

“Please don’t make me wait,” she pleaded. “I’m so horny. I need to be fucked now!” 

“You’ll be more desperate tomorrow, slut.”

“Please,” she begged. “I can’t. I have a luncheon at my husband’s work tomorrow. His biggest clients will be there with their spouses. It’s been on the calendar for months at the Plaza. It’ll destroy him if I don’t go.”

“Then you have a decision to make,” I said. “Ten Navy midshipmen will be getting off their carrier in the morning after being at sea for over two months. You can go to the luncheon as a meaningless trophy wife no one will remember or have the complete attention of ten rapacious men who want to fuck every part of you and remember you for the rest of their lives. It’s your call.”

“Ten?” she asked with surprise and excitement in her voice. “Oh, fuck!”

“Their big, thick, throbbing dicks will come off that ship hungry for a cock-sucking, drenched ravenous pussy, and tight-assed slut to fuck again and again. Every hole of your perfect body will be relentlessly used and pounded, leaving you filled and covered with more cum than you thought possible.”

“Oh fuck,” she repeated, wiping the inside of her damp thigh with her long fingers. 

“So, you can be a wallflower decoration at lunch that no one notices or you can be seen and devoured as the filthy cunt you really are.”

“I am so fucking hot right now.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Because I’m a slut in need of attention.”