Terms of Endearment

In my twenties I had a regular booty call with pretty sketchy dude. He was a bad-boy, and I was a sucker for his long hair and long legs. Inevitably we'd run into one another at the bars, drunk and horny, and go to his house to fuck. We'd roll over the next morning to see who we had spent the night with, do some bong hits and fuck some more. Well, except for the morning the cops banged on the door and hauled him off to jail for a "fail-to-appear" for one of his numerous DWIs. Oh, and then there was the morning where I put my hand between the wall and the mattress to find a shot-gun at my fingertips. A friend of mine once told me my life was out of "Pulp Fiction," I poo-poohed the idea at the time, but now as I write this, perhaps he was right.

Mind you at this time I was pretty naive sexually. I knew the basics and not much more. This was the pre-Internet era and information was not at my fingertips. Curious by nature, I asked Drunk Boy if he had any porn we could watch that night. "Sure!" he was enthused that I'd want to watch it with him. So he pops in a tape, I don't remember anything except some chicks getting down with an scary toothless old man in a wheelchair, disgusted, I made him turn it off. Then there was another one, some late 80s Lesbo fest that I dug.
"Those girls are hot sluts like you," Drunk Boy said as we started fooling around.
Slut? Who is he calling a slut? I started crying. "I might like sex, but I AM NO SLUT!"
"Oh Jesus X, calling you slut is not what you are thinking."
I'm boo-hooing, upset thinking the entire world thinks I am some floozy.
"I should have never even said anything."

I forgot when that dysfunctional coupling dissolved, but it wasn't until a few years ago that I realized that being called a "slut" was not always a bad thing.

"You like my fingers in my pussy you little slut," said the first woman who showed me the pleasure of Sapphic delights. She had me against the window in a mutual friend's bathroom where she'd followed me after flirting with me all night. Holding on to the windowsill, with my panties around my ankle, she thrust 3 more fingers into my willing cunt. "You love this slut don't you? I knew you were a total slut when I saw you come in." I moaned, my vaginal muscles gripping her fingers as I came. A knock on the door came soon after, and I never got reciprocate. But "Slut" wow, maybe she's right.

Flash forward to this morning, I get some lovely emails from Teacher that made me purr. While I am not an anal virgin, I haven't experienced anal in a positive situation and we've been discussing it, so when he informed me that I am to be his "3 hole Slut," well I just swooned.

Is it the idea of his ownership of my mouth, ass, and cunt? Is it merely being called what I exude? Or, is it both? All I know is now in my thirties being a Slut is not a bad thing, not at all.