We were on the way home after I picked Dom up from work. He spent the entire drive talking about how many hot guys had been in that night—he was wired, demanding, and incredibly horny.
He didn’t ask; he commanded. He told me to pull into an empty construction pad site at a nearby strip mall. Under his orders, I got out, stripped completely naked, and bent over the cold cement pad. In that moment, for the first time, it wasn’t about “us.” It was about his needs. He took what he wanted, using me as a vessel to unleash his pent-up energy. Looking back, this was the pivotal night I realized I had become something more—or perhaps something less—than a partner. I was his to use. Even though I didn’t get the official title for several years, I was already the SluttyPig without even knowing it.
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