Stories From a Slut Pt. 01

Setting my purse at my feet again, I shucked off my sweater, leaving myself topless. That got a bit of attention, in the form of a wide-eyed stare from a sales worker who looked to be in her mid-thirties, with a high ponytail and red lipstick that was a little too loud for my taste against her fair complexion. Offering her a friendly smile, I took my time draping my sweater over the top of the rack and carefully taking the green top off its hanger. Pulling it on, I found it a wonderful fit—definitely not designed with my bust in mind, but as a result it hugged my breasts and highlighted their shape, the low cut showing off my cleavage beautifully. It occurred to me that I might actually have to buy the thing....

There was a mirror built into the side of another rack nearby. Heading for it, I got a better look at how the top fit. As I turned to regard it sideways, I heard the employee approaching, her slow stride betraying hesitation; I kept my expression neutral, though a flutter was starting in my chest.

She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, cleared her throat softly. "Um, hi...can I, uh, help you with anything?" Seeing her reflected in the mirror beside me, it was plain as day that she was fighting to keep her gaze away from my ass.

I affected a thoughtful frown. "Hmm...do you have this in any other colors? I'm not sure about this one." As I posed the question, I faced the mirror again and brought my hands up to cup my tits over the top; chewing on my lip as if considering the fit, I squeezed them, hefted their weight, ran my fingertips over the nubs of my hard nipples.

The poor woman was clearly trying to keep a straight face, but I saw her tongue run over those bright red lips. "Uh...sorry, I, I don't think we do, actually," she managed to answer, her hazel eyes fixed on the reflection of my chest now. She sucked in a breath, seeming to focus. "Can I start you with a dressing room?"

I shook my head. "Nah, that's okay, thanks. I don't think this is right for me." Turning to face the employee—her nametag read Julie, I now saw—I stripped off the unsatisfactory top, baring my breasts for her again. Offering the top to her, I gave her a warm smile. "Should I leave this with you?"

Julie was silent for a good three seconds, her eyes remaining steadily fixed on my tits for that whole time. Then, abruptly, she broke into a grin. "Yeah, sure," she said, the stutter gone out of her voice as she accepted the top. There was another pause, shorter this time—she was looking at my face now, but seemed to be wrestling with whether to say something else. Action won out. "Are those real? 'Cause they're incredible."

I returned her grin. "Nah, got 'em done a few years ago." Thrusting out my chest, I shook my shoulders side-to-side, jiggling my tits.

Julie laughed. "Wow, alright. You let me know if you need anything, okay? And be careful."

"I will," I said with a nod. Turning on one heel, I made a show of swaying my hips as I walked, naked but for my G-string and shoes, back across the store aisle to where my sweater and purse waited.

I spent another half-hour or so in Macy's, wandering from section to section as things caught my interest. I didn't put on any other displays quite as bold as that one for Julie, though I got more than my fair share of looks from other employees and shoppers I passed. I did end up making one purchase, a pair of black thigh-highs to replace the ones I remembered had sprouted a few holes. Waiting in the short line at the register, I shook my ass from side to side where I stood. Behind me was a guy with grey hair and glasses waiting to pay for a tie; as I finished my purchase and turned to leave, I saw him smile at me with an appreciation that looked surprisingly innocent. I returned the expression with a little wave, my heart warmed a few degrees.

It was getting close to lunchtime as I stepped out onto the mall concourse. I mostly behaved myself on my way to the food court, only stopping for a brief moment at one of the open seating areas to lean forward over the back of a vacant armchair and twerk some more. I couldn't help but notice a trio of young guys leaving the Gamestop pausing to stare; one, after a moment of what looked like indecision, brought out his phone, and while he held it at his hip, I was sure he was either recording me or snapping pictures. I didn't stop for another few seconds, and when I finished, I shot a smile at him in particular.

At the food court, I ordered a salad with falafel from the Mediterranean place I usually go for. Sitting at my table, the plastic seat wonderfully cool on my bare butt, I noticed traffic seemed to be picking up, more than half the other tables occupied. I was distracted from that thought, though, by the chiming of a text from my phone. Withdrawing it from my purse, I saw Martin's name.

Hi beautiful! Just got home; Victoria was leaving as I arrived. I hear you're out having some fun yourself? ;)

Grinning, I set down my fork to type a response.

Yup! I'll be back this afternoon to tell you about it. And hear all about what YOU got up to last night, hehe

His reply came immediately.

Of course! Take plenty of pictures for me! <3

Glancing around to make sure not too many people were looking my way, I pulled my sweater up to bare my tits once again. Holding my phone at a low enough angle to make it clear where I was, I snapped a selfie and sent it his way, with an attached message of "Here's one!"

A moment later, my phone chirped again. I love you.

Love you too xoxo

Finishing my lunch, I felt the need for the restroom. Wanting to avoid the main flow of traffic off the food court—there's such a thing as too public, even for me—I headed for one off another section of the mall. I was in luck: as I entered, the only other person present was another mid-thirties-looking woman, blonde with a messy bun, getting something out of a Sephora bag in front of the mirror. Employing all my considerable practice, I made it look like I wasn't paying her any attention, but as soon as I crossed in front of the mirror behind her, I saw her glance over, her hands freezing in the middle of trying to open the little cardboard tube.

Stepping into one of the stalls just behind her, I set down my purse, turned around, and dropped my G-string around my ankles—all without closing the door. I'm not generally turned on by pee-related stuff, but I have a thing for being seen pissing in public in particular. Taking a seat on the toilet with my legs apart, I did my thing, knowing the stranger was getting a clear (if slightly distant) view of my bare pussy and stream of piss in the mirror from where she stood. Watching her reflection as she watched mine, I saw her shocked stare turn to my face; acting like I was noticing her presence for the first time, I just gave her another friendly smile while I went on pissing.

The poor girl practically ran out of the bathroom. She almost forgot to grab her Sephora bag on the way out!

Finishing up and wiping off, I couldn't help but be reminded of the state of my pussy. By now, all this showing off had me positively dripping; I didn't have to check to know the gusset of my G-string would be soaked through. The rest of my body was equally on fire, goosebumps standing out on every inch of my skin, my nipples no longer needing any help to stay rock-hard. For a long moment, I seriously debated the merits of masturbating right there in that stall. It would be wonderful fun to see who else came in while I was enjoying myself, knowing they'd certainly hear the sloshing of my fingers in my pretty little pussy, never mind my moans of pleasure; to smile and wave at whoever came over to watch—maybe even invite someone to lend a hand or tongue if they seemed into it.... In the end, though, delayed gratification won out. The longer I kept this going, the more I drove myself crazy with arousal, the better it would feel when I finally indulged in full. And I did still want to stop by Barnes & Noble.

Leaving the stall for the still-empty bathroom, I washed my hands, turning over a few other ideas. Settling on the most tempting, I dug my phone out of my purse again. Pulling up Spotify, I started one of my recent favorite sexy songs, "Lava Lamps" by Maty Noyes. Turning the volume up to my satisfaction, I minimized the app and opened my camera, setting it to record a video and propping it up against the mirror with the selfie cam active, facing me. Flashing a grin for Martin's future enjoyment when I shared this with him, I launched into my hottest dance moves. Swaying my hips, I pulled up my sweater and ran my hands sensuously up and down my sides, over my tits. Turning around, I dropped into a wide stance and once more began twerking, really giving it my all, making my ass jiggle as spectacularly as it possibly could.

Halfway through the song, the bathroom door swung open. In walked two girls who couldn't have been more than a couple years older than Victoria. Immediately, I was struck by the sense of kindred spirits. Both girls were dressed to impress, one in a white halter-neck crop top and Daisy Dukes that looked like they came a good inch short of fully covering her ass, the other in a loose poncho-style top that hung off one shoulder and grey yoga pants that made her plush hourglass hips just sing. The former girl was white and brunette, with striking blue eyes; the latter had slightly darker skin and black hair, Latina, maybe.

For a split second as they walked in, the girls looked confused, probably having heard the music through the door. As soon as they saw me, though, their eyes went wide with shock.

Under some circumstances, I might have actually reined things in and stopped. Sure, I love showing off, but what I was doing just then was sort of a lot, if the wrong sort of audience were to arrive. But instinct told me I had nothing to worry about from these girls. Straightening up only enough to switch to shaking my ass side-to-side, I offered them another friendly smile. "Hey!"

Immediately, my instincts were vindicated: both girls broke into grins like Christmas had come early. "Holy shit!" the one in the Daisy Dukes gasped. "Are you, like, shooting a porn video in here?"

"Sort of!" I replied. "It's mostly for my husband, although I'll probably put it up on Reddit if it turns out good. You want me to turn the camera off until you're out of here?"

The girls exchanged an incredulous look. "Um, sure, that'd be good," the one in the yoga pants said, breathless. Respectfully, I did as they asked, stopping the dance and hitting the button on the phone to stop recording and shut off the music. I left my sweater pulled up over my tits, though, not seeing any harm at this point.

Rather than go about their own business, as soon as the video stopped rolling, the girls approached to join me at the counter. "So, like...you just decided to film yourself twerking in a public bathroom? For free?"

"Yup!" I said, overjoyed at my good fortune with this meeting. "I'm a huge exhibitionist, I love doing stuff like this in public."

"That is so cool," said Daisy Dukes, shaking her head in disbelief. "And you've never, like, gotten arrested or anything?"

"Not yet," I said, knocking on the bathroom counter in absence of any wood. "I mean, us girls can get away with a lot of this stuff, I'm sure you guys know." The two exchanged another look at that, grinning.

A sudden bold urge seized me. "Either of you ever done anything like this?"

Daisy Dukes shook her head again. "Not in public, I haven't."

Yoga pants let out an embarrassed chuckle. "I took nudes in a dressing room once, but I never showed anyone."

"You never told me about that!" her friend exclaimed, grinning again.

"Oh, you guys should definitely give it a try," I urged. "It's so hot."

"Ugh, I know," yoga pants groaned. "That one time was so much fun. I've just never been brave enough to try anything past that."

Just the reaction I'd been hoping for. "Well, I know my husband would love seeing you in a picture with me," I said with a naughty smirk. "Or even if you'd rather he not see it, I'd love to get one with you just for myself."

Yoga pants' face fell at that. "Uh...well, would my face have to be in it?"

"Not if you don't want that!"

Her grin rallied. "Okay, fuck it! Let's do it!"

"Wait, seriously?" Daisy Dukes' eyes were wide with shock, but she was laughing. "Holy shit, you're insane."

"Aw, come on!" yoga pants teased. "She'll be in it too! And without our faces, no one can tell who we are." Her friend looked uncertain at that, but couldn't keep the interest off her face.

Yoga pants turned back to me, seeming to think the matter settled. "What should we do?"

I chewed on my lip as I thought it over. "How about just a titty flash?" I finally suggested. "Shirts up, arms around each other's waists?"

"Sounds good to me!" she said, beaming.

"Okay!" A sudden thought made me pause. "Wait, you are over eighteen, right?"

Yoga pants nodded. "Twenty-two."

"Good." While I got the camera ready again, my impromptu co-model pulled up her top, revealing an unadorned black bra; reaching behind her, she unhooked it and shrugged it off. Her top fell back down before I got a good look at her bare breasts, but I did see a smirk cross her face as she held out her bra for Daisy Dukes to hold, which she did as if on autopilot, still watching with disbelief in her eyes.

At my gesturing guidance, yoga pants and I struck a position side-by-side with arms around each other's waists as I'd suggested. I narrowly resisted the urge to let my hand wander down to her ass. Just as I was about to give the word for her to lift up her top so I could take the photo, Daisy Dukes called out, "wait! Wait...." I glanced her way to find her having set her friend's bra on the counter, lifting up her own top to pull hers off as well. "Fuck, I can't believe I'm doing this," she said, giggling.

"Yeah, girl!" yoga pants cheered as the second bra joined the first on the counter. "Get in here!"

"That's the spirit!" I agreed. "You're over eighteen too, I assume?"

Another nod. "Be twenty-two in a couple weeks."

After a moment's hesitation, Daisy Dukes got in position on yoga pants' opposite side. The three of us stood arm-in-arm with the stalls and the bathroom door behind us in frame. Holding my phone up at a good angle, I tilted the camera so the bottom halves of our faces were in view, but not our eyes. "This look good to you guys?"

"Perfect!" yoga pants agreed.

"Alright. Three, two, one..." As soon as I started counting down, both girls used their free hands to lift up their tops, leaving all our chests bared for the camera. Yoga pants was the curvier of the two by a fair bit, her generous bust fitting right in with the softness of her overall build. With her bra off, her tits drooped a little, but it only served to emphasize their weight; her large, dark nipples looked absolutely delicious. Daisy Dukes wasn't quite as well-endowed, but her pert handfuls hardly needed a bra to hold their teardrop shape. I couldn't help but notice her own nipples were at least as hard as mine.

Tearing my eyes away, I focused on giving my best smile for the photo; both girls did likewise. With a click, the image was saved.

Immediately, Daisy Dukes leapt back, pulling her top back down. Her chest heaved visibly, but she was still grinning. "Holy fuck!"

I felt a shiver run through yoga pants before she let go of me. "Wow," she said, clearly trying to breathe steadily. "Did it come out okay?"

I pulled up the photo. It was perfect; all lined up together, the three of us looked like a delicious buffet of feminine beauty. "Beautiful!" I said, beaming as I held it out to show the two of them. "Thank you guys so much. My husband's gonna love it."

"I hope he knows how fucking insanely lucky he is," yoga pants said with a chuckle.

"Oh, believe me," I replied, "he does."

"Can I get a copy?" Daisy Dukes cut in, pulling out her own phone. A moment later, her face fell. "Oh, but, wait...we'd have to share contact info...."

Yoga pants frowned at that. "Oh, yeah...."

I'd been so caught up in the moment, I hadn't really thought about that potential issue. Still, I gave them both my most understanding smile. "I mean, if you guys aren't comfortable with that, I totally understand. I can just delete the picture now if you'd rather I not have it."

"No, no, don't do that," Daisy Dukes protested, chewing on her lip. "I mean...we're all equally in it, and none of our faces. And if we all have each other's email or whatever...."

"I promise," I said firmly, "whatever we do, I'll never share my copy of the photo with anyone except my husband. Although far as I'm concerned, you're both welcome to do whatever you want with yours, if we share it."

Yoga pants, once again seeming to be the more decisive of the two, gave a nod. "I'm fine if we all swap emails and you send us both a copy."

That seemed to be good enough for Daisy Dukes as well. "Yeah, I think I'm okay with that."

"Sounds good." A few moments later, I had both girls' email addresses, and they mine, along with a copy of the photo. Yoga pants introduced herself as Marisol, Daisy Dukes as Natalie. "It was so nice meeting you two," I said. "You're welcome to get in touch with me any time you want."

"Might take you up on that," Marisol replied with a smirk. "You obviously know how to have a good time."

We didn't linger long after that. As the girls put their bras back on, I finally pulled my sweater back down. Retrieving my purse, I offered them a wave of farewell and headed for the door. As I went, I heard a pair of gasps from behind me; it occurred to me that the girls probably hadn't realized I was wearing my thong as my bottoms, expecting me to put my real ones back on before I left. I had the strong feeling I'd be hearing from both of them in the near future.

If the front of my G-string hadn't been soaked through before, it certainly was now. I could feel the little bit of fabric clinging to my pussy lips, no doubt clearly outlining their shape. As I headed toward the bookstore, I knew without a doubt that I'd be making myself cum there. The thought sent a naughty thrill through me as I entered, finding myself among the various displays of non-book eclectica they always have around the entrance and cash registers.

While I was still mainly here to show off, I actually did want to shop a little as well. My first stop was the general fiction section, in search of the one book I knew for certain I wanted, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V. E. Schwab. By then, the mall was Saturday afternoon busy, and that part of the store was probably the most heavily trafficked, enough that I had to keep a bit of a low profile. Even so, my outfit got the most attention it had all day, more than half the people I passed pausing to stare or failing to hide sidelong glances. Finding the book didn't take long, but I allowed myself a few more minutes to browse the rest of the section, not grabbing anything, but just enjoying the looks.

I couldn't restrain myself for too long, though, burningly aroused as I was, so I soon left the general fiction behind. Setting off to wander between the shelves, I found myself in much quieter surroundings again, the crowd a lot thinner in the more specific and niche sections. As I browsed from cookbooks to psychology to nature, I let my body fully take the lead. Bending forward and bracing my hands against the end of one shelf, I shook my ass with abandon, jiggling it side-to-side, twerking up and down, reaching back to grope and squeeze and slap my pillowy cheeks. I heard soft footsteps behind me, and without thinking I pulled the string of my thong to the side, flashing my asshole at whoever was there; I wished I'd thought to wear one of my ornamented butt plugs, though I've never been all that fond of combining those with a G-string. A few rows down, where a couple who looked about my own age were browsing travel books, I leaned back against the shelf, pulled up my sweater, and played with my tits, squeezing, hefting, pinching and tugging my nipples, moaning at the pleasure the touches sent through me; when the couple looked over with shocked expressions, I offered them a giddy smile. The woman turned to leave right away, but when the man stayed rooted in place, she had to turn around to grab his wrist and drag him off.