67 comments/ 79846 views/ 13 favorites Just Another Old Slut By: StangStar06 Author's note: Over the past roughly 6 months I really appreciate all of you for allowing me the outlet you provide by reading my stories, and for your feedback. Last week some of you (about a quarter) took strong offense to the "over the top" violence in Curiosity. Some of you didn't realize that no one actually died, but I get the point, it was a bit much. Last fall about the time that I wrote National Security, I was in a similar mood, and put out 3 stories in a row where people actually died. You let me know then too, that I was pushing it. On the other hand a large number of you also hate "wimp" stories. Where the husband either does nothing or participates in his wife's cheating. I guess I have to find the happy medium. Which brings me to today. This is my 30th submission and kind of a milestone, So I've decided to back off on the heavy drama (for this piece) and do something lighter, shorter and a bit more fun. It's a bit more like something you might see from JPB, or Ohio, or DG. I did completely finish the story, but I also left a bit of room for interpretation as to what happens next. If someone wants to tell us what did happen next, feel free to do so. I promise that no one in this story will be seriously hurt (physically), and no one actually even gets their ass kicked... except for one guy, and he really deserved it. So thanks to everyone who's read even one of my stories. And especially, those of you who took the time out to comment in any way. # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # I knew it was her as soon as she walked into the restaurant in the lobby of her husband's building. She was tall thin and pretty. She was this year's model without a doubt. One of those Anne Hathaway/Katy Perry type women that look like they're English, but aren't. Whatever happened to girls like I was? Have we gone out of style? There's no way you can tell me that a man would prefer one of those thin, whiney, needy, fembot like girls to a full bodied, bit titted, fat assed blonde. If that's the case, I'm glad I'll be too old to care soon. Anyway the game was on. She sat down at a table, and looked down at her watch. Within moments she was joined by a guy in a cheap suit. This guy was not impressive at all. He was of middling height, neither skinny or fat, nothing about him stood out in any way. He appeared to be merely one of those bean counters that no one ever notices. You know the type they have nice little cubicles and they look out for this account or that one, but they really don't matter much in the grand scheme of things. They don't handle the heavy lifting in either business or life. They only keep an accounting of what someone else has designed, or built, or stolen. From the instant that he sat down across from her, I watched her eyes light up. This was the most excitement she'd have in her entire day. She really didn't understand what was going on here at all. Poor stupid little fembot, I was almost sorry for her. And the bean counter had no idea how close his feet already were to the fire. He regaled her with his witty conversation. She tittered and giggled endlessly. They were having such a good time. I'd realized instantly, when I saw the look in her eyes, that I was almost too late. It's said that a woman knows within 10 seconds of meeting a man, whether or not she's going to fuck him. The look in this fembot's eyes said "Maybe not today, but her pussy could possibly be had by this grunt." It was obvious that I had my work cut out for me. My name is Sally. Sally Ryde and I work for an investigative firm, here in sunny California. I'm not exactly an investigator or a detective of any kind. What I technically am is a decoy, but what I really am is a slut. It's okay, I'm not offended. In fact I'm proud of the title. I've worked very hard to earn it, and had a lot of fun doing it too. I've had a very good life and will probably be retiring soon. In this case, the job I'm doing isn't exactly for the firm. It's kind of a favor for an old friend; that will also benefit me. As I mentioned before, I'm the old model of slut. I have long blond hair, big blue eyes, big tits, a fantastic ass, and a walk that no man used to be able to resist. I say used to because though I don't look it, I'm 62 years old. Okay, close your mouth, you're letting all of the flies out. My hair is Clairol's Ice Blonde number 8. My tits are implants, and my ass comes from daily, one hour stair-master sessions. We'll talk about my assets more later on, but for now just suffice it to say that I'm still hot and not just for my age. I have absolutely no doubt that if you and I were in the same room, you'd want to fuck me. Besides I could look like a wrinkled up corpse and still be able to do my job. If they think that no one will know about it, most guys will fuck anything on 2 legs, with a hole in it. How do you really think all of those 350 lb. women on Jerry Springer ended up pregnant? Most sluts, the good ones anyway, have this pheromone thing going for us. Most guys can smell it and just know that they aren't going to have to put out any money or any effort whatsoever. They know that they can pretty much just walk up, push us over and get that pussy. No strings attached, no bullshit or guilt trips after it's over, and a return visit any time you'd like. Try getting that kind of service from one of the Anne Hathaway types. So even at my advanced age, I have no trouble pulling in men. As I sat down at a table near my target and her beau, I silently put out the call. Within moments I have a bean counter of my own at my table, then another, and another guy from outside. All I have to do is glance their way, and they just know that they can get some. As my entourage and I got up to leave, I casually mentioned to my target that her makeup could use a light touch up. By the time she entered the nearest ladies room she found me in just the position I wanted her to find me in. I was bent over, with one guy under me thrusting himself into my pussy and his friend was sticking it up my ass, while I blew the third guy. As we made eye contact briefly, I made sure to smile, while noting the fembot's outright shock, if not disgust that someone of my age would be engaged in such behavior in a public restroom. If only she knew. As soon as she left, I finished the guys off and sent them on their way before fixing my own makeup and hair. I do need to keep up my appearance in public, since I am after all a professional. As I returned to my table, I ordered a drink and looked at the menu. My target no longer laughed at her beau's silly jokes, and in fact she seemed to be deep in thought. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed a number. Less than 2 minutes after I put my phone away her boyfriend got a call on his. He excused himself, looking really red in the face and quickly left. It was time for me to strike. "Don't be shocked, sweetie," I said to her. "We are after all the same. We're just at different spots on the same road." "I quite doubt that," she said. "Damn," I thought. "The bitch even sounds English." There must be a school out there teaching certain skinny assed American girls how to act like they're English. I had to find the place and burn it down. Not that I have anything against the English, but I just hate anything that's fake. It's kind of a joke, like Madonna. That bitch grew up in Michigan, just outside of Detroit. Now she sounds like the fucking Duchess of Windsor. Who the hell does she think she's fooling? "Okay honey," I said. "Whatever you say; but before you go jumping to conclusions, let's talk for a moment." She came over and sat down across from me. "You're married, right? But obviously not to that idiot that just left here." I said. "How did you know that?" she asked. "Looking at his clothes and jewelry, I could tell that he couldn't afford to even buy you the shoes you're wearing. Those Donnie Noh pumps you have on, cost at least Fifteen hundred dollars a pair. Your wedding rings probably cost more than that schmuck makes in 2 years. His ring finger has a fresh tan line on it. That means that he just took off his wedding ring, to hide the fact that he's married. If he was married to you, he'd have no reason to hide it." "Your husband, from the things he buys you, probably loves you very much. Judging from your expression, I'm sensing that even though he loves you, and you know that he loves you, he's spending a little bit more time at work than you'd like. You're feeling trapped and lonely and bored. Am I right?" she nodded her head and looked at me strangely. "The bean counting cheater comes along and starts giving you compliments, and telling you how pretty you are and all of that shit. Every time you see him, he spends more time with you, so by now it's become a little bit of a pattern. No one has noticed it yet, but you're starting to come here more often. You're starting to engineer opportunities to see him and get your fill of attention. Tell the truth. Am I right?" The girl nervously nodded her head. "Told ya," I said. "We are the same, because that's how it starts. Very soon you're going to be just like me. Maybe it'll take you a few more years, but maybe a few less. You never know. Let me tell you a story, okay, uhm...." "Renee," she supplied. Pay dirt, Renee Colter was my intended target. I'd been sure from the beginning, but there were so many of these silly little cows out there that you could never be sure. Renee, I started out just like you. A young pretty married woman, with a husband and a beautiful home. I'd married my high-school sweetheart as soon as he graduated from college and we started our life together. Ronnie, my husband, worked very hard to provide us with all of the things that I thought I wanted. Every year the list of things that would make our life together better, grew longer and more expensive. Ronnie never balked at anything I asked for, he just worked longer and longer hours to provide me with the things I needed. Like you, left alone at home all the time, I got lonely and bored. I tried all of the usual shit. Clubs, Women's organizations, Volunteer work, I tried them all. It got to the point where I was just so God Damned lonely that I think my brain slipped a gear and I got stupid. I started thinking that Ronnie wasn't doing his part to keep our marriage going. It was all about me. I guess I thought that he liked working 50 or 60 hours a week. Nah, he didn't want to stay home and play golf, or drive his car. That's when I met Art. Arthur Lang was one of our neighbors from down the street. He worked out of his home doing Medical billing or some other stupid thing like that. At any rate he was always home. After a while, I really don't remember what started it, but he started coming over sometimes for coffee and just listening to my problems. It was wonderful to have someone I could talk to, and it made me feel a lot better. Previous to meeting Art, as I said I'd been kind of mistakenly, taking my loneliness out on Ronnie. Since I'd blamed him for what I thought was a failure in our marriage, I'd started trying to control him by rationing his pussy. We'd dropped from having sex four or five times a week to only once or twice. Don't think Ronnie hadn't noticed it either. He might not notice it when I changed the curtains in the living room, or bought a new rug, because seriously, men don't give a flying fuck about those things. But if he wasn't getting his pussy, he'd notice it instantly. Ronnie being a good guy didn't club me over the head with it. He just thought it was some kind of woman's problem. He bought me flowers, some chocolates and a card, and sat back and waited for me to get over it. He spent his time waiting for me to get over it by devoting the extra time to his other interest; a 1970 Boss Mustang. That car was his pride and joy, it didn't matter what year it actually was on the calendar; it was always 1970 to Ronnie. The attention from Arthur got more and more intense until we were having coffee everyday. The compliments began to turn my head, and what started out as only talking soon became touches, then hugs and finally kisses. Those kisses became more intense until before I knew it I was having sex with Arthur. I was a cheater. I began to think that I loved Arthur and he loved me so I began trying to avoid having sex with Ronnie all together. I did notice that the two of them approached sex differently. What I mistook for a lack of passion in Ronnie was actually love. Ronnie took his time and stroked me and rubbed me to get me in the mood because it was important to him that I enjoyed sex with him. Arthur on the other hand often just fucked me brutally until I couldn't walk. I really should have seen the signs. Men do treat their women the way they treat their toys. Ronnie loved his Mustang and took very good care of it. That was also the way he treated me. Arthur's car was a piece of shit and that was how he treated it, and me. I ended up getting sick and having to go to the hospital. I had pneumonia, a really bad case of it. I called Arthur and asked him to take me to the hospital. He told me he couldn't risk it. I ended up calling Ronnie at work and he came and got me and took me there immediately. Arthur told me that Ronnie could do it because he was my legal husband, and it wouldn't cause nearly as big a problem as if he'd taken me. He told me not to ever forget that Ronnie thought he owned me, while Arthur really loved me. Something about the way he said it, didn't seem right so I decided to test him. Ronnie had stayed at the hospital with me everyday until I was well. Arthur never even showed up to visit. When I was released from the hospital I decided to try and test them both. I told Ronnie that the doctor said I couldn't have sex for a month after I'd been released. He laughingly told me that was about how long he had to wait anyway, so what would be different. He loved me and he could wait not only for the month but until I was ready. I told Arthur the same thing and got a totally different result. I didn't see Arthur for about a month. During that month I got over my infatuation with Arthur, and realized two things. The first being that he never really loved me, he just wanted to fuck me, and I'd been stupid enough to let him. The second was that he was also screwing several other married women in my neighborhood. When I confronted him and told him to stay away from me or I'd tell my husband, he picked up the phone and said go ahead. He didn't care because I had a lot more to lose than he did. He wasn't married, so no one would care about our affair except Ronnie. All Ronnie could do to him, would be to try to kick his ass. Maybe Ronnie would win, or maybe Arthur would. One thing Arthur was sure about though, whoever won the fight, my marriage would be over. I'd be branded a whore and Ronnie would divorce me. No decent person in town would want to have anything to do with me. I'd be desperate and alone, and when I was desperate enough. Arthur would put aside his grudge and come back and fuck me. Ronnie, though he loved me, would never forgive me. I knew he was probably right, and didn't want to risk losing Ronnie because despite what I'd been doing, I loved him. I loved him more than I've ever loved any man in my life. Arthur's whole approach changed after that. He no longer came over and had coffee with me and listened to my problems. There was no more kissing and romance, he just showed up whenever he wanted and fucked me. He started calling me names like slut and whore, and making me do things that I never imagine I'd do, like anal sex and giving him blow jobs. Day after day I longed for my old life just being Ronnie's faithful wife. I realized then what I'd lost. Arthur had played me like a cheap fiddle, and made me into something that I never dreamed of. It finally ended the only way it could have. Arthur and I got sloppy, and one day when I'd been starting to become sick again fate intervened. I was coming down with a cold, and poor Ronnie, always the loving husband came home early to try and take care of me. He caught me in our bed, and actually watched Arthur pull his dick out of my ass and make me suck it. Ronnie was enraged. He grabbed Arthur by his throat and threw him through our bedroom window. One of the neighbors called the police and that was the only thing that saved Arthur. When the police arrived Ronnie was still stomping on Arthur outside of our house. They put him in jail for attempted murder. It took a lot of our savings for me to bail him out. When they told him who put up the bail money he refused to accept it. I had to get a mutual friend of ours to take the money and bail him out. He refused to speak to me. Through the mutual friend, I learned that I was to leave the house for a few hours so Ronnie could come and get his things. He'd asked for two hours, and I wanted to try to talk to him. I only wanted to explain what had happened and tell him that it wasn't my fault. I wanted to beg him to forgive me and try again. I decided that I'd go back after an hour and a half, and catch him before he left. He loved me, so with the right amount of begging and sex, I could probably get him to forgive me. That time Ronnie fooled me. It had taken less than an hour for him to pack everything he wanted. A week later I got my divorce papers in the mail. Ronnie had given me everything we had except his clothes and that fucking Mustang. The house, the furniture, everything; he even left all of the money in our checking and savings accounts. He didn't take a dime, not even to have something to live on. Art didn't press charges because he didn't want the attention, so the case was dropped. Ronnie was a free man again. He borrowed a few hundred dollars from a friend and moved to a different state. I never heard from him again. Years later I did hear that he'd found someone and remarried, and was happy again. He had a couple of kids too. It was exactly the life I'd wanted, and could have had with him before I got greedy and full of myself. To this day I'm haunted by the look of pain and disappointment in Ronnie's eyes when he caught me with Arthur. At that moment I suddenly realized how much he loved me and how much I'd hurt him. I also knew that I'd never stopped loving him, and probably wouldn't. I guess I still love that man to this day, though I haven't seen him in over thirty years. The way things ended with Ronnie and me is my greatest regret in life. If things had been different, I would probably be the hottest looking, happiest grandma on the planet. I'd have a nice home and a husband and kids who love her. Instead I'm just another old slut. Another nameless face that people pass by and don't remember. It took me a couple of years to go through all of the money that Ronnie and I had accumulated together. Then I sold the house and moved into an apartment. I was finally ready to date again sometime after that. And I decided that if God ever blessed me with another chance at love, I'd never let what happened with Ronnie, happen again. That's when I met Ed. Ed was a lawyer, and he became husband number two. This time I was determined to do things right. So about two years after we'd gotten married, and I was beginning to get bored, I told Ed that I wanted to get a job. At least until we were ready to start having kids. Ed was okay with it and even gave our number to a friend of his in sales. I got a job as the secretary in an insurance sales office. The first thing I did was let all of the guys there know that I was married and wanted to stay that way. I didn't just walk around and say, "Look guys there'll be no sport fucking here, because I'm married." That would have been rude. I did it in a much more subtle and classy way. Whenever a conversation started, whether it was about beer, baseball, or booty, I mentioned Ed. "My husband Ed loves that," I'd say. They got the hint. Just Another Old Slut I actually had no clue whether or not Ed liked baseball, but I took every opportunity to let the guys know that there was a husband at home. In the end they all got the idea that I was off limits. I became more like just another one of the guys, in time. When business was good, we all went out drinking together to celebrate. When business was bad, we all went out drinking together out of fear that we'd be out of work. Things went well until I'd been there for about 3 years. In my mind I was one of the boys, but you know how boys are. Big old titties and a fat ass are not something they're going to just forget about, no matter how off limits they're supposed to be. One night after we'd closed a big new account, we didn't go out drinking, we stayed in, drinking. Four of the guys and I, were putting away vodka like we worked in a liquor store. I don't remember how much I'd had to drink, but I ended up getting fucked by all four of them. About a week later they reminded me of what I'd done, most of which I'd been too drunk to remember, and insisted that if I didn't want that husband at home to find out, that I should give a repeat performance. Once again I didn't have a choice. Now Ed being a lawyer, meant that he was nowhere near as naïve as Ronnie had been. A couple of weeks later after my third gangbang I was looking for a way out of the situation before he found out about it and he gave me one. I was sitting in the house after showering all of the guys cum out of me and off of me when I heard that low growl. Ed drove a 1992 Fox Body Mustang GT 5.0. Yeah I seemed to be a sucker for guys who drove fucking pony cars. Anyway Ed came into the house and called me. I went down into the kitchen to see him and he told me to have a seat. He hadn't kissed me or anything so I knew it was something serious. He asked me what I thought of Theresa. She was his new secretary. She was Puerto Rican with long curly hair and an incredible body. I told him I thought she was a nice girl but I didn't know too much about her. He told me that she was going to be my replacement. He was cold as hell about it. He told me that he expected me to be out of his house in one hour or less, because he was going to take Theresa on a cruise and didn't want me in the house while he was gone. He whipped out an envelope with divorce papers in it, and let me read them over. I'd get five thousand dollars and five hundred dollars a month in alimony for one year. I laughed at him and told him he was fucked in the head. He was a hot shot lawyer and I could get any judge to give me more than that. Especially when I told the judge that he was getting rid of me so he could replace me with some younger and supposedly hotter woman. I started laughing, but Ed wasn't laughing. Then he started laughing even louder than I was. He said "Fucked in the head huh?" and he kept laughing. By the look on his face I could tell that Ed was up to something. He pulled out another envelope and out came a bunch of pictures of me getting fucked by the guys in the office. He put one picture on top of me with some guy's dick in my mouth and said, "Which one of us did you say was getting fucked in the head?" "Once a judge sees these pictures, and the Betamax VCR tape I have of your gangbang, he probably won't give you shit. I haven't hooked up with Theresa yet. The cruise we're going on was supposed to be for us, Sally. Luckily I've had that PI on you." I signed the papers and moved into a flea bag motel until I could find an apartment. This time I was the one who was devastated, so I guess it was my turn for what I'd done to Ronnie. It was a few years after my divorce that I learned that I'd been played. Ed had been tired of me and had fallen in love with Theresa. I'd been a faithful wife to him though so he needed a way to get rid of me without losing his assets. Ed set up the whole first time with the guys getting me drunk. He knew that it had happened and expected me as a faithful little wife to come home and admit it so he could get mad and throw me out. When I came home and didn't say shit. Remember I'd learned the danger of confession from the Arthur incident. He'd just staged a second event and filmed and photographed it for evidence. I was screwed blued and tattooed. Just so Ed could get rid of me for a younger spicier model. During the period of the gangbangs though. Ed continued pounding the shit out of me every night. It turned out that little Theresa was a virgin and was going to stay that way until her wedding night. That hot body disguised a cold disposition. In the end though, Ed lost out too, because after a couple of kids, Theresa's hot body was gone and Ed could barely stand to look at his blob of a wife. To make it worse, she refused to have sex with him, not that he wanted to anyway, and followed him around all of the time to make sure he wasn't getting it from anyone else. The gangbangs and affairs had done something else to me though, girlie. They'd exposed me to the true nature of both men, and myself. Men will fuck anything if they get a chance to. The only time they won't is if they have something far better waiting at home for them that they're either so much in love with, or so afraid of losing that it's not worth the risk. You don't have to stay young and beautiful though to keep a man. Give him all the pussy he can handle, when you're alone together. But act like the Virgin Fucking Mary when you're in public. Also giving him a kid or two isn't a bad idea. Most men love their fucking rug rats so much that they'll stay with a bitch they can't stand, for a lot longer if there are kids involved. That's just the way men are. They're one quarter brain, one quarter ego, and the rest is just sex drive. The gangbangs also brought out the fact that I just liked sex, in any way shape or form. I decided to just go after sex after that. I really only needed men for their fingers, tongues and dicks, the rest of them just wasn't worth my time or effort. I had a few serious relationships after Ed, but nothing where I let anyone else have control. Anyway, in your situation, you need to know a couple of things. The dickhead you were here with is a lot like my Arthur, so be careful. He can't give you any of things that you want from life. I'm talking about the important things here. He can't give you his heart or his love because that belongs to his wife. No matter what that fucker tells you he's never going to leave her for you, and if he has kids, your ass is grass. He'll cut you down without thinking about it. He also can't give you his time, because he'll always either be working, doing what bean counters do, or at home with his family. He obviously doesn't make enough money to give you the creature comforts that you need. In short messing around with this idiot is like having sex on the beach. It seems romantic and all of that shit, but when it s over all you're left with is a rough time, a bunch of distorted memories and some sand in your panties. Your husband probably really loves you. He's working his ass off every day to be able to afford nice things for you. Maybe what you need to do is just sit him down and have a talk with him and tell him how you feel. He'll find a way to spend more time with you and do more things with you, and that's what you're really after isn't it? The alternative is for you to go ahead and fuck that bean counter, just so you can be disappointed with some mediocre sex and then get thrown out on your ass when your husband discovers it. It might take a while maybe even years but, it always comes out. And when it does, you'll be one step closer to being me, just another old slut. What you saw today was nothing. I'm at the point in my life now where, I'm starting to take stock of my life and I find it lacking. I've seen more dicks than a urologist but I don't have a man of my own. I probably get more sex than a pornstar, but I don't have anyone in my life who cares about me. My bank account is full, but my house is empty and lonely. Sometimes I find myself thinking about Ronnie and what might have been. If you really want to be me, you're off to a good start. "Well sweetie think about what I've said, have a great life and a good day. I've got a meeting with an old friend," I told her, as I left her sitting there. I left the woman/girl/fembot there at the table and got on an elevator. I hope she'd listened to me and taken my words seriously. After getting off of the elevator I was shown into an office where a man in his early thirties waited for me. "Hi Aunt Sally," he said brusquely. "Do you think it worked?" "I can almost guarantee you that the little bitch will think twice about ever considering having an affair again," I said. "What about your end?" He looked at me and smiled. "I set up an account at the firm he worked for and invested a few thousand dollars with them. When I went out to lunch with his supervisor to discuss investing more I pretended to be horrified when I discovered that he worked there. I told his boss about his activities with married women. When you called me, I told his boss about him sitting there at that café with Renee. His boss called him back upstairs and fired him immediately. In order for him to get his severance package, since he was fired for a violation of their moral clause, he has to tell his wife what he did." "Okay since everything seems to be in order," I hinted. "Okay Aunt Sally here's your payment," he handed me a big envelope. "Ronnie Martin is 64 years old now. His wife died about 2 years ago. They have 3 kids, all grown and he lives alone. The address is in the file. It's in Ohio. I had a couple of guys talk to him, one who pretended to be a bartender, the other a priest. They gave him the whole forgiveness and moving on speech several times, but I really don't think it was necessary. I don't think he ever stopped loving you. Maybe he is ready to forgive you because it's been over thirty years." "Would you have forgiven Renee?" I asked. "It wouldn't have mattered after the divorce, Aunt Sally," he said softly. "There wouldn't have been much of you left." "Your divorce lawyers must be really good," I said. "Who do you use?" "The law firm of Smith and Wesson," he said seriously. "Thanks again for your help. I couldn't have saved her without you. I really do love her, but I could never have tolerated cheating. This will be her only warning, but I am going to cut down on my hours and spend more time at home." "Anyone could have done it," I said. "There's nothing special about me. I'm just another old Slut." As I walked out of the office, I pulled out my cell phone and booked a flight to Ohio. Maybe it isn't too late for this old slut to change.