Terri Vargas, a 45-year-old divorcee from a suburb of Minneapolis, Minnesota, used to be one of “those women.” You know the type. Married. Looks down upon women who aren’t married. Seems to notice every time the divorcee living down the block has a date. Refers to her as “that slut” when speaking to her equally judgmental friends. Then, when she gets behind closed doors with her husband, just lays there like a log while hubby does his business. Might as well pick up a book and read it while the poor guy tries to fuck her disinterested pussy. Yeah, you know the type. And you don’t like her one bit.
“I was a terrible person,” Terri recalled as she slipped off her bra and turned around to show off her shapely ass. “I had something to say about every single or divorced woman who was getting laid, and meanwhile, I was miserable. My marriage was totally unfulfilling. I hadn’t had good sex in 10 years, and at least part of that was my fault because I didn’t care about sex. Sure, I went to the gym and kept myself in shape, but that was because I wanted to look good in the expensive clothes I was always buying for myself. But sex? I definitely didn’t care about sex.
“But my husband did.”
Yeah, her husband did. And she takes part of the blame for the fact that he had had an affair with about 20 different women over the course of their marriage.
“I’m not excusing his affairs,” Terri said. “I’m just saying that men have needs, and if their wife isn’t satisfying those needs at home, he’s going to look elsewhere. That’s just a fact. Of course, it would’ve been easier if he had told me he was unhappy.”
Easier than going to a local hotel restaurant with her friends for lunch and seeing her husband, who was supposed to be at work, getting off of the elevator with his 27-year-old secretary. Easier than hearing him admit, in a fit of anger, that he had to “find something to fuck because your pussy was dead for 20 years.” Easier than her asking him, “How many women have you slept with?” and him replying, “I’d say 20, but I lost count.”
Now, another woman might have been angry. Another woman might have been hurt.
“But I’ve never been like that,” Terri said. “Whenever I’ve been confronted with a crisis, I’ve always said, ‘What could I have done to prevent it?’ In this case, my marriage was over. There’s no way I could have stayed with him. But I also realized that if I didn’t change in some way, I’d be unhappy for the rest of my life.”
Not wanting the di-vorce to drag on, Terri reached a comfortable settlement with her husband that enabled her to keep the house. And then, one day…
“After I took my morning shower, I stood in front of the mirror, just looking at myself,” she said. “I guess you could say I was taking inventory of my own body, and I liked what I saw. I thought I looked pretty good for my age, which at the time was 43. So I decided to do something I never, ever would have done when I was married. I grabbed my shortest skirt and hemmed it to make it even shorter. Then I put on a push-up bra and a white, button-down shirt, but I left the top three buttons open. The shoes I couldn’t do anything about be-cause I didn’t own any sexy shoes, but I had to make do. Then I got into my car, drove over to St. Paul and walked down a busy street. It was amazing. I felt like every eye was on me. At least every man’s eye. It was quite a turn-on. I felt something in my pussy I hadn’t felt in a long time. I was horny.
“It was summer, so I sat down to have lunch at an outdoor cafe. I crossed my legs as sexy as I could, and I noticed that an attractive man, probably about my age, was looking at me. And I found myself flirting back! Me! So he came over, and one thing led to another. Of course, I checked his left hand first. No wedding ring. After what I’d just been through, I wasn’t going to have sex with a married man. Anyway, to make a long story short, we got a room, and we fucked for hours, but what was amazing about it was that I sucked his cock, something I hadn’t done for my husband for years, and I rode his cock. This after years of doing it only missionary style.
“And you know what else was amazing? I came! For the first time in six years, I came! I enjoyed sex, and I wanted more. I wanted his cock all day, and I was disappointed when he said he had to go back to his office for a meeting.
“But I’ll tell you what else was amazing. He asked me for my phone number, and I wouldn’t give it to him. I actually said to him, ‘You know what? That was really nice. Let’s just enjoy it for what it was.’ Well, we both knew what it was: a cheap fuck!”
Terry remembers the date of that big event: August 8, 2006.
“The day that changed my life,” she said, spreading her naked pussy for em-phasis. The day I be-came the neighborhood fuck slut. The day I became the woman me and my friends–or, shall I say, my former friends–had looked down upon for all those years. The woman, as I realize now, I was secretly jealous of because I wanted to be her.
“Now I’m the neighborhood fuck slut,” slipping a finger inside. “And it feels great!”
Terri officially became the neighborhood fuck slut a month after her encounter in St. Paul. It was just before dawn, and she was getting ready to go out for a run.
“I’m standing in front of my house, and I look down the street, and there’s a strange man walking to his car,” she recalled. “I figured he had to be coming from Doris’ house. Doris was the neighborhood fuck slut. You know, the divorcee who me and my friends were always talking about.
“So I’m thinking, ‘He just spent all night fucking Doris.’ And then I thought, ‘I’m going to be his sloppy seconds.’ So I jogged down the street, and just before he got into his car, I said, ‘Hi, I’m Terry. I’m Doris’ neighbor. Would you like to fuck some more?
“Well, of course he did. No man is going to turn down that offer. Not that I gave him the chance. I got down on my knees, right there in the street, and started sucking him off. I don’t think anybody saw us. It was early. But I didn’t care.
“So we get back to my place, and we’re starting to have sex when I think, ‘He’s been in Doris’ pussy all night. I need to give him something different.’ So I said to him, ‘You didn’t fuck Doris’ ass by any chance, did you?’ He was shocked, but he shook his head. Then I said, ‘Good. Fuck mine.’
“Well, that was the first time I’d had my ass fucked in 10 years, and it was great. It must’ve been even better for him because my ass was really tight and he came in less than a minute.
“That’s also the day my friends became my ex-friends. You see, one of them saw this guy leave my house, and she told everyone else. Now I was the new neighborhood fuck slut. Me, who didn’t even enjoy fucking her husband. And I’ve never been happier!”
Now there’s no turning back for Terri…well, except for one thing.
“Recently, I knocked on Doris’ door, and when she answered, I apologized for all the bad things I’d said about her. And next week, we’re having a threesome!”
