My name is Malinda. And I am a horny slut. I know, I know you've heard it all before. Seen so much porn you think it's normal, right?
Well it's not. Not for me. You see, I was a good girl. I wasn't completely religious or anything but I liked the idea of waiting for 'the one'.
I didn't even know what that meant. How does that even feel? I was 21 and still a virgin. Sure, I'd kissed before. Made out with some of my boyfriends. But I never gave in to the throbbing in my panties. Some nights after dates ending in heavy make out sessions I would arrive home to find my panties sticky and wet in the crotch part.
Especially if we had been seeing each other a while and I'd let them fondle my breasts while we kissed. Always on the outside of my shirt but my breasts are so big they seemed to like it anyway.
After a while though they would get bored. Eventually they would want a woman who put out, they would crave a horny slut. Huh, yeah. Don't lie. You like them too. That's why you clicked this story. Horny sluts are hot. They make your cock swell and throb. They make you want to thrust your cock inside them until the world knows what a man you are!
I know. I'm not judging. I just wanted to find the man that loved me for me. But then I met him. The tall, sandy haired, awkward, heavier set guy staring at me in the coffee shop. When I caught him staring at me, he didn't look away like other guys did. He smiled. It was a warm and friendly smile but I didn't for a second miss the quick glances at my breasts. I don't think he intended to hide them.
It's not like it sounds. I had met him before. We had chatted via text for weeks. This was just our first physical meeting.
THE DATE
I stepped inside the coffee shop. A little bell chimed above the door. The shop was quaint. I looked around but I didn't see him. In fact I didn't see anyone. Well, there was a girl behind the counter, rather uninterested in her job, scrolling her phone to death. "Why on earth would he choose this place?" I wondered.
Oh how I hated online dating. In general most guys thought that they were the most interesting thing on earth when in fact they were boring as fuck.
Oh... and what a bitch you were when you didn't stare at them as if they were the cutest guy you'd ever seen, hanging on every single word. Ugh. If I met a guy that was that interesting, I would. But I fake it for no man.
He was probably going to be the same. I was only here because he was cute and he had a pretty cool sense of humour.
When we were chatting, he'd send me pretty little gifs. He called them gif-ts. They were always pretty and swirling. They sparkled and I think there were some words in there. I thought it was sweet. So I thought I'd give him a go. I mean, why not, right? Can't find Mr Right at home by myself.
I slid into a booth. I remember him saying he was always more comfortable in a booth. Booths were nice. I liked booths.
The door-bell went ding-a-ling again. I looked up, it was him. He was tall, sandy hair, slicked back into a 50's greaser style. His glasses were thick and black and revealed a nerdy sid. As thick as they were though they couldn't hide those sexy blue eyes. I swiped right for those eyes.
He saw me and smiled. I raised a hand and smiled in return. He sat in front of me. He didn't seem nervous. I was glad. Guys said the stupidest things when they were nervous. Then we have to pretend it's cute. I'm not a pretender.
He looked me in the eye.
"Hi," he said. "You remembered to get a booth. Very good," He grabbed for the menu and slid it across the table to me.
What an odd thing to say. But something tingled inside me. Like I had been praised by the teacher. I liked it. Maybe, he wouldn't be so boring after all.
"Order whatever you like. It's on me." His smile was infectious. Old fashioned too, insistent on paying. I wasn't going to complain. So far his first impression was going rather well.
I ordered a caramel frappè, he ordered a cappuccino. I could usually tell a lot about a man by the coffee he ordered. Unfortunately a cappuccino indicated he was boring and all fluff. Shame. Frappès indicated a love of adventure and variety. Which was definitely me. I may be good girl but I lived my best life and I loved it.
Our drinks arrived. He took a sachet of sugar and tore it into his drink. It sat on top of a heavy layer of brown and white foam. He took off his glasses and placed them on the table next to his cup then picked up his spoon.
He looked me deep in the eyes. It was chilling despite his smile.
"I really love the froth, don't you?" He looked down into his drink, his spoon made a clicking sound as he put it in the cup and it hit the bottom. For some reason it got my attention.
I looked into his cup. His spoon went around and around the cup and it made swirls of brown and white in the froth. It clinked against the side of the cup as he stirred.
"Yes, it's pretty, isn't it? The light frothy bubbles, churning around the cup. Soft and pretty, so satisfying to watch. Watch them roll around the cup, that's it. Good girl."
My body became warm. It was so relaxing to watch. My blinks became long and I started to become tired. It was only 10am. What was happening? It felt so good though. I didn't want it to stop.
I looked up from the cup. He smiled again.
"I have to go, unfortunately I have something to take care of. It's been nice meeting you."
Wait, had I said something wrong? Did I do something wrong? I know this was a little weird, but it was the most interesting date I'd been on in a long time.
"So soon?" I asked, a little too eager for my own liking.
"It's already been an hour," he chuckled, "and we haven't stopped talking long enough to drink our drinks.
I looked onto the table, our drinks were untouched. That didn't surprise me. But they were also cold. I tapped my phone. 11:03am. Wow. I had no recollection of what we had spoken about. How embarrassing. I finally found a semi interesting guy and I'm still not listening to anything he says. Force of habit I guess. But still strange.
"Will I see you again?" I heard myself sound way more desperate than was healthy.
"Of course." He picked up my hand and kissed it gently. His soft lips sent electric waves of arousal though my body. My breasts began to tingle with anticipation and my pussy immediately became wet. A surge of arousal swept me up.
I had to hold myself back. I was afraid it was about to crescendo into an orgasm. He watched me as I ground my pussy back into the seat, trying not to let my eyes close, they began to flutter.
I thought he would think I was weird. Instead, he said, "oh, I forgot to tell you. You look very pretty." This did not help the arousal I was feeling. In fact it urged it on. I had no idea why he aroused me so much but he did. I couldn't wait to go home and masturbate thinking about our date.
I held my arousal on the edge. He let go of my hand and it seemed to help it subside. It was then I realised I was also panting ever so slightly.
Embarrassed, I quickly rose from my seat, eager to leave but when I turned back to pick up my hand bag I noticed the wet patch on my seat. He had no doubt seen it. It was noticeable. In the warm weather I had been wearing a short skirt and a very small g-string as panties. My excitement had leaked generously onto the plastic seat.
I turned around. He was looking at the puddle of my juices. I flushed warm with humiliation.
