Past is in the past, that I agree. But the slut I was in the past before I met my husband? She’s been waiting for her chance to shine again.

Last weekend on a whim I decided to start telling him things while we were at dinner. The bar we were sitting at? A bar I had been to dozens of times drinking with my friends, wearing tiny little skirts, and smiling at men as I felt their eyes climb over me. A bar that I had been picked up from quite often at the midnight hour. I told my husband the line I would text my fuck buddies. “Road head? Come pick me up.”

It worked, often. Exactly how I wanted it to. Those boys driving as fast as they could to come get me, knowing how ready my hot wet mouth would be. Driving the dark streets as I teased, licked, and engulfed them. The bobbing of my head up and down their dicks matching the bobbing and weaving as they drove down the road intensely distracted. I told my husband about my nightly routine and his eyes were wide. I love when he sees me for the slut I truly am. How it turns him on because he knows that slut is his good little girl now.

We’re starting to share our past sex stories more and more. I’m shocked and pleased by how much we both like it, how it turns us on to share details, how it edges us while we’re in public talking about the stories. How wet I get when I see his mouth drop open as I’m telling him about the slut he married.

I’ve been rubbing myself to a couple of his stories, it makes my pussy shiver and I get so wet. My sticky arousal slick around my fingers, and I’m leaving wet spots on the bed. I’m losing time in my day to my needy clit and sopping wet opening. I can’t wait to tell him more, give him all the ideas on how he can treat me, how he can do it better.

I sure want to act out some of his fond memories, adding to his edging and spank bank as much as I possibly can. As long as I’m now the new, sluttier version of every single memory.