I woke one Saturday morning thinking to myself that I needed to find me someone to play with. I wasn’t dating anyone or even pursuing anyone for tha... matter. That morning I rolled my ass out of bed, half depressed, when I heard my kids running to my room. “Dad, Dad! Let’s make pancakes!” Duty called! We had made a huge mess while making breakfast but managed to get it all cleaned up before I had to drop my kids at my ex-sister-in-law’s house a few blocks away for their cousin’s birthday. Slut was barely staying in her chair. The ceiling inspection began anew. I paused again. “Such a fucking slut,” I said. She collapsed slackly into the chair. “Please Master! Please… I need to fucking cum so bad!” “Well, you’ll need to find someone to talk to on Lush then, bitch,” I said. This drew another stream of “fuck,” “Shit,” etc. In the common tongue of Sluttish, it simply meant: “I am going to fucking reach through this monitor and grab someone’s balls if they don’t help me cum.” At. More

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