How I Became a Kept Female Slut

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This never would have happened if my upstairs neighbors hadn’t practically dared me to drink the beer in the blue cup. See, I was bored to death, and the guys upstairs were having a party—well, it was just them, but they were rowdy and laughing, and like I said, I was completely bored.

I had been about to take a shower when their music started, so I was nude at the exact moment I decided to crash their soiree—right then I should’ve known what was probably going to happen. All evidence to the contrary, I do know myself. And when I’m naked and bored and I decide to crash a party all at the same time, I’m probably gonna wake up naked and sticky and surrounded by boners.

It’s the story of my life, actually. Not that I’m a slut. Never that! I just have a nasty habit of doing what I want, and owning up to it when a cute guy asks me if I’d like to—well, practically anything.

So I was nude, and I quickly slipped into my favorite blue and green tights, a micro-miniskirt, and a bikini top. I was in a hurry, so I didn’t double knot it. The guys upstairs are all really cute, though, so I probably wouldn’t have double knotted it anyway—not for any specific reason, just that I like to tease myself playfully by leaving open possibilities.

Just to give myself an excuse, I grabbed a measuring cup on the way out the door.

I rang their doorbell, and almost immediately the thing swung wide open. Tom was standing there with a half-full beer in one hand and that fully sexual, totally innocent smile of his shining up the entire doorway.

The music stopped.

I froze, holding out the measuring cup like I was begging for pennies.

The next song started, and Tom started laughing. I blushed myself crimson; both of us knew that the measuring cup was a prop and I just wanted an invite.

“We don’t have any flour,” Tom quipped. “But c’mon in. You’re quite welcome to join us!” I smiled sheepishly, and strolled in. I set the measuring cup down on a table by the door and it was promptly forgotten.

Tom—slender and tan, and stylishly dressed in ankara escort earth tones and blues, a color combination that looked especially striking on him and drew his gorgeous aqua eyes out so nicely that I got butterflies. Jason and Dave saw me then—Jason all in black, which made his brown eyes glisten, and Dave in charcoal gray and maroon, which made my nipples clench.

“Brookie was going to make cookies, but she heard the music and decided to join,” said Tom.

“Cool news,” said Jason—his rich, deep, chocolate voice making me shiver. Dave, as usual, didn’t say anything (strong, silent type and all) but he gestured me to a chair. Sitting down was the absolute last thing on my mind, and so—fatefully, if you wish—the first words I said, as I declined the seat, were, “Don’t ya got anything I could climb?”

“It’s Earth Day. If we’d known you were coming, we’d have planted a tree.”

We started talking about climbing trees, running around in the woods as kids, hiking upstream in brooks trying to keep sneakers dry while hobbling from stone to stone and the joyous icy splash of the first foot slipping off a rock. “I love that!” I gushed. “I always say ‘Oh, shit!’ but it’s the best!”

The guys agreed. Seems like everyone has had that experience at least once. Not necessarily the brook, but the icy splash. There’s something so delicious about a shocking misstep past a point of no return that you’ve been toying with for the past five hundred yards!

It was right at that moment, when Dave stepped up to me with a tray of drinks—two cups, a red one and a blue one. I love blue, and I reached for that one. “Wait,” he said. He so seldom spoke that I listened intently. “The blue one has a roofie in it.” I laughed. I took the blue cup, chugged it down.

“I guess I’m waking up sticky tomorrow,” I teased, and then took the red cup, which I sipped from.

“Cool news,” Jason said, smiling.

The truth is—and I’ve thought about this a lot—even though I didn’t believe that there was actually a roofie in the blue cup, I would have done the exact escort ankara same thing if I had known it was there for sure. Like I said, I’m not a slut—but I like ‘risking’ pleasures I truly enjoy, and the idea of being fucked twelve ways from Sunday by three hot guys I really like with no complicated memories and consequences… Waking up naked, all limber and sore at the same time, no memory of what happened, but a sexy suspicion in mind and a big smile on my face. What can I say but, “Mmmmmmmmm!”

Fortunately for me, no naughty experience is exactly like it is in the brochure. Turns out, the blue cup didn’t really have a roofie in it. But it was drugged.

Within about ten minutes, I was pleasantly groggy, horny, and very, very pliable. Visually, it’s a little bit milky at the edges, but I remember it clearly. Dave asked me how it felt to be dressed in such a sexy outfit, and I was suddenly aware of the warm silky tights which were all hands. “It’s like getting hugged from my ankles all the way up to my—”and I giggled.

The micro-mini was so loose and frilly and, well, short that I felt like I wasn’t wearing tights at all. I felt like I was in a cool forest glade, a gentle breeze tenderly electrifying my loins, and three very gentle men were ready to pleasure me forever.

Someone sat me down on the corner of a bed, and I slipped my hand under my skirt. I knew they were watching me, knew that I was really in their apartment, knew that they had drugged me, and knew that I loved feeling that way. I caressed myself while looking into their eyes—first one, then the next.

Tom asked if he could take off my top, and I told him I would cry if he didn’t. I would have, too. I felt so loved, so accepted and desired—it would have been heartbreaking if he had refused to undo my shirt and free my boobs.

Jason asked if he could take off my tights, but I didn’t want him to. I wanted to do it myself, and I told them so. I remember how funny it was to me that they were getting so horny watching me strip for them. I felt like a complete Goddess. ankara escort bayan It was intoxicating!

I remember feeling completely safe. Somehow, I knew that if I had said “No” at any point, the whole thing would have stopped. Sure, that could have been the drug, but I still feel that way, and I haven’t been drugged since—and it’s been over a year. These guys are real gentlemen, and I would die for any one of them. They’d do the same for me.

I remember Dave asking me if I liked how I felt. My mind cleared as I realized that I was naked, that they were all naked, and that I felt—strong. I told him that I wanted to feel like that “for always.” He told me that I could. Tom told me that I could live with them and be their naked darling girl. Jason told me that I could take them whenever I wanted, and that they would take me if I nicely asked.

I remember weeping with joy at that. I wanted to go downstairs and get all my things and move in right then. “There’ll be time for that later.” And there was.

I have no idea what was in the blue cup, and I don’t care. Whatever it was, it lowered my defenses and my inhibitions. Whatever it was allowed me to accept my natural desires, and to embrace my urge to share and be shared.

I asked Dave once what would have happened if the drug had made me shy instead. “It enhances the feelings you already have,” he said. “If you didn’t already want to be our girl when you came upstairs with that measuring cup, you wouldn’t be.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“We all took it that night. Me and the guys were just starting to glow when you rang the bell.” I stared at him.

“You did?”

“Do you really think I would have said the blue cup was drugged if I had been sober? I would never have had the nerve!” He was right. “I wanted you to know. I wanted you to want us as deeply as we wanted you.”

“I do,” I said. He admitted that he knew that.

After a moment, I asked him where he had gotten the drug. “My sister gave it to me.” He smiled, as did I. I knew his sister Julie, and she was cute!

“Think she has any more?”

“Ask her yourself,” he said. “She’s coming over tonight. Her and her girlfriend Stacy; they’re bringing the blue cups.”

“Guess I’d better get ready, then,” I said. And I pulled off my shirt.

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