the life and musings of a kinky slut


It was cool, with a slight breeze that rustled the nearby trees, but the light droplets that fell brought the chill down past her layers of clothing to rest on her skin and in her bones.

She didn’t like the cold, and though it was nowhere near freezing, the temperature was much too low for her tastes.

She wondered why she hadn’t moved to a more temperate climate, why she hadn’t up and left this wet crisp home she’d known for so long.

But as the car pulled up, she remembered why.

He was smart, younger than her, but brash enough to not care. He was successful, generous, and caring. He was everything she’d wanted, everything she’d waited for, almost a dream.

And yet he was real, a person, not a fantasy. He left his wet towels on the bathroom floor, had to be reminded to eat more than just chips and dip, and forgot her birthday each year like clockwork. Still, he was her husband, and she was glad of that.

She only grumbled a little as she got into the car, damp and shivering.

“Sorry I’m late; traffic.”

“Friday getaway; can’t blame other people for having our same idea. So, any new thoughts on our destination?”

“Well, you want somewhere warm.”

“Yes, there must be warmth.”

“And I want somewhere that won’t break our bank.”

“As if there is somewhere we can’t afford to go?” He gave a sly grin at her allusion to their more than modest means. “Fine, so nowhere too far. That rules out anywhere off the continent.”



“I have one.”


“I thought you liked surprises?”


As they stepped up to the ticket counter, she almost bounced with excitement. The attendant gave her husband the tickets. He was sure to not let her peak. They passed through security and took seats at the almost swanky bar in the terminal.

“So when are you going to tell me?”

“You’ll see the destination as we’re about to board.”

“No hints whatsoever?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Hmm… Tell me what you packed?”

“Why would I make it that easy?”

“Fine. Did you pack my bathing suit?”


“Did you pack my jeans?”

“Yes, but I don’t think you’ll use them.”

“Interesting. Which of my dresses did you pack? My little black? My poofy ball gown?”

“Little black, yes. Gown, no.”

“Ok. Shoes. Flip flops?”





“The black strappy ones you like.”

“I’m loving this spontaneous vacation already. Ok, no flip flops rules out a beach. Possible jeans means we could be doing some walking, but there was no mention of sneakers.”

“You didn’t ask about sneakers.”

“Did you pack my sneakers?”


“Well then, as I was saying… Little black dress means nice dinners. And boots mean sexy.” Her eyes became wide.

“Have you got it?”

“Let’s go to the terminal.”

“First, what’s your guess?”

A grin filled her face.

“The place where what happens there stays there, more strip clubs than anywhere else in the world, and legalized brothels. None other than Sin City, love.”

“That’s my girl. And if you’re good, I’ll buy you the hottest whore they’ve got.”

“And if I’m bad?”

“I’ll buy you two.”

Categorised as: Gen Fiction

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