Where's the Free Use? - Sex Stories

Where's the Free Use?

... had a lot of fun with those pictures later on that night. It felt kind of weird rubbing my pussy to myself, but I wasn’t really thinking about myself while I did it. It was how low I’d sank, the fact a cock was in my mouth, the cum on my face. It was hot as fuck. I now had picture evidence of me being a free-use slut. This was amazing.

While I was eating dinner by the TV, I tried asking my mother as casually as I could if I could start birth control. I made up a bunch of lies about regulating my hormones and making my period easier and all that, and I guess after going into too much detail, she put down her fork and insisted we’ll go to the doctor if I just stop talking. I just rolled my eyes, looking back at the TV. I did steal a quick glance at my brother and see him give me a playfully disapproving face. I smiled and shrugged, like we were sharing a joke. Dad wasn’t home, so luckily, I didn’t have to get The Talk from him – thank fuck. His last three Talks sucked. I learned way more about sex from blowing Greg than I ever did from my parents. Mostly, I learned that it was fucking awesome, and that I needed to start taking birth control as soon as possible.

***

I was a new Ariel after that. Beforehand, I didn’t really care about what I wore, slapping on a t-shirt and some pants, but now… I wanted to try being a little sluttier. I purposefully chose an older shirt, one a little small for me, before going to class. It wasn’t like I was completely changing – at ...

... least, on the outside – but it was a good way to test the waters.

Boys are horny as fuck. I barely changed anything and all day, whenever I turned around, a new pair of eyes were on me. Even some boys I used to crush on were now looking at me, but when I caught them, none of them had the balls to wink at me or even keep looking. They all turned away or acted like I was the weird one. All for wearing a slightly smaller shirt? Jesus. I realized in second period, to my discomfort, that this wasn’t going to make me an object of desire to these idiots, it was just going to get me labeled as a whore or a hussie in the bad way and get rumors to start. Then I’d get bullied, teachers would have to get involved… What a pain.

Sure enough, when I walked into the ComTech classroom, Mr. Whittleton looked at me and slightly scowled. “I don’t think that shirt is appropriate for class,” he let me know.

“It’s all I had,” I lied with a shrug. “I’m doing laundry today.”

“Well, in the future, don’t come to school with that on,” he replied a little sourly. “It’s inappropriate to wear that around your peers and your male teachers.”

I couldn’t stop myself from noticing that last part. And, shit-disturber that I was, I couldn’t stop myself from continuing the conversation. “Wait, what was that last part?”

Mr. Whittleton didn’t back down. “We have a dress code at the school, and it’s not okay to wear that. It’s too revealing.”

“No, you said, ‘male teachers.’ Wearing this around male ...