I've made a couple posts a few months ago about how I entered this crazy phase of sexual exploration after a, frankly, unsatisfying sex life at home with my husband who just doesn't really want to do much more than standard and infrequent sex. In brief, I had been nurturing a cheating fantasy for a while, found myself on a work trip alone several states away, decided to try dressing like a slut in public (and nothing more) and then taking it way too far in the moment and ended up having sex with two strangers over the course of the trip. I thought this was the end of it until, a couple weeks later, I started dressing like a slut when I was away from my husband because I craved having men check me out and exciting them. This ended with me taking things too far again and sucking a stranger's dick in the back of his car and taking a load in my mouth. This is a bit of a long post since it's been a while and a few things have happened.

After that, I still felt guilty and wrong and I really did make an effort to stop playing around like this. I got tested and all and was luckily clean after having unprotected with someone I didn't know. I was pretty good for 2-3 months, still harboring thoughts and fantasies and occasionally getting excited when I sensed somebody checking out my body. We still had sex at home once or twice a month when I initiated and got lucky and it was pretty much the same as ever, although I did feel more "experienced" since... you know. After a few months, I feel like I "relapsed" and started having a harder and harder time holding off the urges, especially during stretches when we haven't had sex in a while. Everywhere I went, I would spot men that I wished could take me somewhere and fuck me and satisfy my needs. One day, I broke down and slipped back into dressing like a slut for the attention of random men in public.

I don't own any revealing clothes (disapproving husband) so I make do with what I have. I was trembling as I watched myself put my outfit together in the mirror. I stripped down to nothing and then put on a purple, lacy pair of panties that hugged my body and, in the moment, decided to forego the bra. I put on a lightweight black skirt that went just above my knees but rolled it up until it was more than halfway up my thighs and a light blue blouse buttoned down an extra button to show a good amount of cleavage. I went out and did some random things that day, went to the grocery store, walking around the park, etc. and let men see me at opportune times bending over or sitting with my legs more open than they should be. It felt really good, to say the least, seeing men sneaking glances or just completely eyeing me and entertaining the thought that they would fuck me if I gave them the chance and spread my legs. I was just walking around the city in the middle of the day and figured, before I went home, I would take it a step further unbutton my blouse one more button and took off my panties. I essentially felt naked at this point, the wind was brushing my breasts and pussy and you didn't really have to look too hard to see what you wanted. I think I was feeling the butterflies in my stomach for most of the day but I was trembling here due to the nervousness and excitement from letting people see me in a sexual way. The day was successful, I got to indulge in my fantasies and went home without having sex with anybody.

This activity became a nicotine patch of sorts for a while, dressing in a highly revealing way and going on daily errands to let people see me. Now and then men would approach me and I would play along with the flirting, sometimes a few would put their arms over my shoulder or hands on my legs but I didn't let it lead to anything more. It wasn't enough, but it got me by without getting into too much trouble. If you had read my previous posts, you probably know where all of this is going. One day, I was going through one of my slut walks at the park and had a young guy (in his 20's maybe) approach me and make the usual flirty talk. Today was a bit different in that my urges were much stronger and I hadn't had sex in more than a month. I think my mood that day in addition to his forwardness pushed things over the edge and when he put his hand on my leg, just a bit under my skirt, I ignored my better judgment and reached out and grabbed his crotch, horrifying myself in the process. Here we go, I slipped up and I'm taking it too far again. I felt his erection and, ignoring the fact that I can just pull back and still recover from this mistake, started rubbing it while leaning into him. I felt him touch my pussy through my panties and I knew that I fucked up, I'm going to end up doing a lot more than I expected. He suggested that we come back to his apartment, not too far away, and gave me the address.

I must have driven past the place five times, talking myself in and out of it before parking. I sat in the car for a bit wondering if I should actually do this but I couldn't ignore the tingling in my crotch and how wet I was getting thinking about having my first sexual encounter in a very long time. "Just do it. You know you want to. Just do it." The walk to his door felt like a daze and, the next thing I knew, I was in his apartment and making out with him on his bed. This is what I've been missing for so long, his hands were grabbing me all over and I moaned, almost in relief, as he kissed my neck and breasts. We eventually ended up naked, me stroking his dick and him fingering me until he shifted positions to get ready to fuck me. I knew that I shouldn't do this, not again because I didn't want to take it this far and we were without protection but it was hard to stop when I felt his dick rubbing up on my crotch. Luckily (or not), my rational mind came back and I told him not to. He was surprisingly understanding and was pretty respectful but I knew he was disappointed.

"I can still blow you though."

Of course, I'm not really the strongest at self control. I laid him down and took him in my mouth, just enjoying the feeling of having a dick my mouth again. I felt him breathing harder, losing control of his movements, until he told me that I he was going to cum. I took him out of my mouth and got a crazy thought to try something that I've never done before. "Do you want to cum on my face?" He seemed shocked, I was shocked, but I found myself laying down with him over me, me sucking him and then stroking him until I felt splash after splash of cum covering my face. I don't know how I felt about it and if it was even enjoyable but having this happen, smelling his cum and feeling it drip down, made it feel like the sluttiest thing that I've ever done. Even more than letting a stranger cum in my pussy or my mouth. Without a word, I ran to the bathroom to wash it off and caught a glimpse in the mirror of the cum dripping down my face. Yeah... I went too far. I had a lot to think about on that drive home.

Lesson learned: I can't do this without eventually succumbing to having sex. I struck a compromise with myself, I can fulfill my needs with just some sexual contact but not going too far with it and having a guy fuck me or ending up cleaning a load off my face. This worked for a while, I would do these slut walks or go about my daily business and, occasionally, meet men. Most of the time, we would just end up in the car or their place and I would let them touch and play with me. Most men were just happy looking at and grabbing my breasts or reaching under my panties to finger me a bit. Sometimes, I would finish them off with a handjob if we had privacy and on occasion I would get caught up in the heat of the moment and start sucking halfway through. This felt like a good place between satisfaction and going too far. A few, and these were some of my favorites, went down on me and I definitely sucked these guys. This went on for a while. I started getting nicer underwear like thongs and wearing them about my daily business to my husband's discontent. It came to a head one day when he confronted me about my underwear and arguing about how he doesn't like me dressing like that. After a lot of back and forth, I just straight out asked him why it was such a big deal if I wanted to wear something that I like seeing myself in. "Because you look like a fucking whore." I was done. He may have been right but that doesn't mean that he could speak to me like that.

It was a tense house for a few days. I continued to dress the way I wanted and, one day, went on one of my walks. I was still angry and somehow felt even angrier as I went about my walk. As luck would have it, this is one of the walks where a man approached me. He was a young, college aged and decent looking. I knew what I wanted and, after a short bit of flirting, I suggested that we go to his place. I felt a rush, like this is what angry sex feels like and I put in way more energy than I usually do with this guy. Our clothes came off pretty fast and I was already sucking his dick within a few minutes of getting there. He went down on me and pleasured me, grabbing my legs and holding me tight in a way that made me feel so wanted. I felt a rush of anger at my husband and also a strange sadness. Here I am with a stranger who really just wants a warm hole to put his dick in and he's making me feel more wanted than my husband does.

"Do you wanna fuck me?" No hesitation that time. I spread my legs for him as he put on a condom and, for the first time in nearly two months, I was getting fucked. I let myself get lost in the feeling of a man taking me, pulling my hair and just pounding away. "Call me a slut." "Call me a fucking whore." I don't know what came over me but I needed to hear it. I was moaning like a slut and came as he said those words to me.

I wanted more. I had him pull out of me and pulled the condom off. I sucked him for a bit and then got on all fours. He didn't pause. I felt his bare dick enter me and he fucked me while pulling my hair and insulting me. After a while of him fucking me, he grabbed on my waisted really tight and fucked me harder than I had ever experienced and came in me as I had another orgasm. We laid in bed together for a while and I felt guilty and wrong as always. We ended up having sex two more times, both times with him cumming in me again. I looked in the mirror as I put my clothes back on and saw that this is by far the most disheveled I've looked after one of these things. My hair was all over the place and I was red and flushed. I thought about its role in this as I put my thong back on, and then the rest of my clothes on. Luckily, my husband wasn't home yet when I got back or it would have been very obvious that I didn't have a normal afternoon.

Lesson learned: I kinda like it rough.

So that's where I am. Most of this experience has given me a lot to think about while masturbating for a while after. I'm trying to stay good again but I don't know where this is going to go and if I'll ever reel myself back into a normal life. Sometimes I wish these thoughts and desires weren't there or that I could just fight back against them. I didn't used to be like this, I used to be better. Maybe being a slut is just an inherent part of me. Sorry to end it on a melancholy note.