Stories From a Slut Pt. 01

While I'd largely let my thinking brain turn off by this point, I did still have an ultimate destination in mind. Tottering slightly atop my heels from the arousal making my legs tremble, I headed at last for the "romance" section, which I've always thought should just give up the act and call itself "smut."

Arriving in the sheltered little corner, I found no one present. My heart pounded in my chest as I scanned the spines and covers, searching for the first thing that grabbed my attention. My eye fell on a cover that bore a simple design of a blue rose on a green background. Not even looking at the title, I picked up a copy and began flipping through at random, waiting for the first sight of a sentence that suggested a sexy scene.

I found one in short order. Jumping in at what may or may not have been the beginning, I quickly saw I'd chosen well. The heroine was with a man who seemed to be a prince of some sort, on a balcony overlooking a garden where a party was happening. As I entered the scene, he had her dress hiked up and was fingering her while she leaned back against the railing. They were described as being hidden in shadow, up too high to be in anyone's natural line of sight, but with nothing really in the way should someone chance to look up and spot them. The prose was nothing mind-blowing at first blush, but it was passable enough not to get in the way of my immersion in the tableau it painted. I felt my pussy clench in sympathy. God, now that's just the kind of fantasy I love! The only thing that can make it better is if someone does catch the heroes, and they don't even stop, too absorbed in their pleasure to care.

Of course, I was playing out my own fantasy at that moment. All day, I'd denied my pussy the attention it so badly craved, knowing the wait would only make the reward all the sweeter. Now, finally, I decided it was time for the main act. Leaning back against the shelf once again with the book in one hand, I set my feet apart and spread my knees partway; finding the waistband of my thong, I worked it downward until it was around my thighs. For the second time, my pussy was exposed to the open air, fully visible to anyone who chanced to come by at the right angle to see between the shelves. A shiver ran through me from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes, hairs standing on end on the back of my neck. In all my life, few things have turned me on more than getting off in public.

I didn't waste any time teasing myself—that was what I'd been doing all day. Now, I surrendered to my need completely. Hand between my thighs, I sank my middle and ring fingers into my pussy; they slid in effortlessly, immediately embraced by my tightening walls. I was so hot inside, I couldn't help but moan out loud at the first touch, not that I made any effort to keep quiet.

I set to work. Curling my fingers up to press against my g-spot, I fucked myself with abandon. Wet sounds filled the air along with my moans and sighs; the smell of me was everywhere. My back arched, pressing my shoulders against the bookshelf; my legs shook beneath me, the tension of staying upright making my pussy clench tighter, intensifying the feeling of my fingers.

As I masturbated, I returned my attention to the book I'd picked up. The scene swiftly progressed to the prince diving under the heroine's skirts and eating her out there on that balcony. The author clearly knew how she liked her pussy licked, and while the book fell into the trap of having the characters know exactly how to please one another perfectly without either of them saying a word, it wasn't hard to suspend my disbelief. In less than a paragraph, the heroine was moaning with abandon just like I was, no longer caring if anyone down in the garden heard. It looked as if I'd picked a good one.

I wasn't sure how long the guy had been standing there watching me by the time I noticed him.

He was frozen out in the aisle between the romance section and sci-fi. I guessed he was maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. He was white, with short brown hair and green eyes behind glasses in big black frames; an adorable dusting of freckles adorned his cheeks. He looked to be of slender build under his slightly oversized knit sweater; he certainly pulled off the narrow jeans he'd paired it with. I've seen enough guys look at me while I put myself on display that I've learned to tell a fair bit about them from it. Some guys, probably most, I'd describe as "leering"—not always in an unpleasant way, but you can tell they're enjoying the show without worrying about whether or not they should be. That wasn't the case with this guy. The blush on those freckled cheeks, and the way he looked on the point of bolting for cover, told me he was wrestling with the intuition that this wasn't meant for him, that he should just leave it alone and go on his way. Which almost certainly meant he wasn't an entitled asshole who assumed everything women did was for his benefit. I felt a rush of affection for him.

"Hey," I said, my voice coming out breathy between sighs of pleasure. "Don't be shy. You can come watch if you want."

Poor thing, he actually turned to look behind him, wondering if I was addressing someone else. Satisfied that it was just the two of us for now, he gave his head a little shake as if to clear it, then managed a small smile. "Uh...okay," he said faintly, stepping out of the aisle and in among the shelves to stand facing me. While I saw his gaze fall between my legs, of course, I also noticed it roving all over me, spending nearly as much time on my face. It seemed he was a man of taste.

For a moment, I paid him no further mind, going back to my book and my fingers. The heroine and the prince were fucking now, her bent over the railing while he took her from behind. She was watching the party down below, and the book painted the picture of her thoughts, of how jealous she knew all the court ladies would be if they saw her, how she wished someone would look up and point and call out and everyone would turn to watch the show they were putting on. I was so far along by that point that I no longer noticed the shortfalls of the writing, letting myself revel in the fantasy—even though, it occurred to me, I was actually putting on even more of a show than the heroine was!

An inspiration made me stop. "Actually," I said to my voyeur, lowering the book while still fingering myself, "do you think you could help me out?"

His eyes went wide as dinner plates behind his glasses. "Uh...y-you mean—"

Before he could finish his obvious thought, I withdrew my fingers from my pussy, glistening with gooey wetness—a strand of it actually trailed from them to my lips. Raising my hand to my mouth, I quickly sucked them clean, before bending down to reach into my purse and retrieve my phone again. "I'd love to get a video of this," I said to my new friend, holding it out to him with a smile. "Would you mind taking one for me?"

He almost looked relieved. "Oh! Uh...yeah," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, no problem." As I went back to my fun, he held up the phone to get a good shot, still looking like he couldn't believe his luck.

By then, I'd more or less forgotten about the book; letting my head fall back against the shelf and closing my eyes, I allowed everything to fall away but the feeling of my fingers inside me, the heat rolling through me in glorious waves. I was so deliciously close, I knew all it would take to reach my peak would be to switch to focusing on my clit for a few seconds. There was no doubt in my mind, I was going to cum in that bookstore, and this lovely boy who was being such a dear would see every jolt and shudder of it, hear every sound that escaped me. Just a touch....

I stopped, hesitating. Was I really ready? Or was there even more I could do to make this feel better?

"That's good, thanks," I said to my videographer. "You can stop now."

His face fell just a little. "Okay." Hitting stop on the camera, he held out my phone; licking my fingers clean again, I accepted it back, dropping it back in my purse.

He turned to leave, clearly assuming we were done, but hesitating to see what I did next. I'm sure I gave him his biggest shock yet. "Do you want to cum with me?" I asked, giving him another smile.

Again, he looked like a startled deer. "Wh—seriously?" His eyes darted all around, as if looking for someone waiting to spring out and yell "gotcha!"

"Yeah, seriously."

He faced me again, but didn't really seem to see me. "I mean, like...here?"

"Here."

I could see the battle raging in his head. I didn't blame him for hesitating; while my presence would definitely help, as a guy, he probably figured he had a lot more to lose if he got caught doing something like this in public. "No pressure, really," I reassured him, absentmindedly grinding my hips while leaning back against the bookshelf. "Only if you want to."

I don't know if it was my words or my movements, but I saw the resolve harden in his eyes. "Fuck it," he said, grinning nervously. "I don't, I'll regret it for the rest of my life." With one last glance toward each of the entrances to our section, he went for his zipper.

"That's the spirit!" I made no effort to hide my grin as he worked his jeans and underwear down his hips enough to free what I could already tell was a straining erection. As it sprung upward, I licked my lips at the sight; he wasn't massive or anything, but his cock was nice and thick, and he had lovely hips too, with the faint lines of that lovely V of definition.

Shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was really doing this, he wrapped his fingers around it. Before he could get started, I turned around to face the bookshelf, leaning forward against it on one hand while my other went between my legs again. "Cum on my ass," I told him as I began playing with my clit, that most perfect form of stimulation that never fails to bring me to a delicious, satisfying peak of pleasure, especially after working myself up this much.

He didn't say anything, and I couldn't see his face, but I heard and felt him move closer to me, aiming for my backside. I couldn't really move it much to tease him if I wanted a steady touch on my clit, but still, I was confident the view I presented posing like this would be more than enough for him.

Feather-light touches, just one fingertip, slow circles. The little bud of nerves was already hard and throbbing. As soon as I started, I felt the peak, right there, within reach whenever I wanted to reach it...but not yet, not yet. I thought of my momentary lover, how I wanted to feel him paint my ass with his warmth just as I brought myself off. I could hear him, trying hard to be quiet but still letting out those soft little sighs and grunts I love so much as he pleasured himself to me. God, I wasn't sure if I wanted this to go on forever or for him to cum right that second....

He made the choice for me in under a minute. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice hoarse. "Fuck, I'm gonna...." I said nothing, circling my clit faster, tense enough to cut with a knife.

His next breath came as a voiceless groan, and I felt it. Liquid heat splashed in streaks onto my skin.

I let go. With my last ounce of restraint, I forced myself not to cry out fully, biting my lip; I didn't want to scare my lover off.

That decision was the last conscious thought I had for a long few moments. I surrendered myself to my climax, my legs reflexively locking up in order to support me through the shocks. Denied the chance to voice its ecstasy out loud, my body sent that energy elsewhere, my knuckles whitening on the bookshelf, my abdominal muscles clenching, my hips grinding automatically against nothing; all of it served to amplify the brain-melting sensation in my core, my inner walls squeezing rhythmically in on themselves, soaking my thighs in wetness.

I wasn't sure how long the peak lasted. As I felt it start to recede, I willed myself to stay in that wonderful, warm, floaty place that comes after a climax, trying to push back the instinct my public surroundings brought on to quickly straighten myself up. Who cared if someone else came by and saw me? I knew I looked amazing basking in afterglow.

"Hey, uh..."

The voice of my lover pulled me back to the moment. Carefully, still feeling a little shaky, I let go of the shelf and turned to face him. He'd already zipped up, and he was glowing scarlet all the way down to his collar, but the look of joyful amazement he wore told me he wasn't about to complain. I felt his cum dripping down my ass and thighs, still warm.

I offered him my biggest, most grateful smile. "You okay?"

"Yeah..." He kept it to a half-whisper, again glancing toward the vantage points around us. "Um...you?"

"Oh, I'm great," I assured him. "Thank you, that was wonderful."

He chuckled nervously. "I mean, yeah."

Bending at the waist, I pulled my G-string back up, making sure to lift the string around the cum painting my ass so as not to ruin it. As the fabric met my pussy, it immediately soaked through all over again, wet enough to cling to my skin and outline every curve of my lips. Straightening, I gave my temporary partner a cheerful wave. "Well, you have a nice day, now!"

As I turned to leave, I heard him clear his throat. "Uh, yeah...you too!" I made sure to give him one last sway of my hips, leaving him with the sight of his cum on my skin.

I made my way up to the register without really thinking about it, feeling relaxed and satisfied and sexy as hell the way cumming in public always makes me. I hardly noticed the look the cashier gave me as I paid for my purchase. I'd gotten what I came for; everything else was gravy, now, part of the afterglow. The eyes that followed me as I left, heading back through the mall toward my car, were likewise pleasant white noise.

It was only once I reached my parking spot that I indulged in one more slutty display for the day. Bending once more over the trunk, I held my phone behind me, aimed at my ass; craning my neck around to smile for the camera, I snapped a photo of the cum drying there. It was a shame I had to wipe it off before I got in, but it wouldn't do to stain the driver's seat.

*****

As I stepped through the door of our condo, a familiar sound greeted me from the direction of Victoria's bedroom: her friend and sometime fuckbuddy Maya moaning with pleasure from the efforts of her experienced tongue. It made me smile. Home sweet home.

"Hi honey!" Martin's voice preceded him into the living room. As soon as I saw him, my smile broadened. Call me sappy if you want, but at the end of the day, no matter what I do or who I do it with, my husband stands head and shoulders above all the rest. With his square jaw, broad shoulders, and that effortless smile that lights up his whole face, he is, to me, the definition of masculine beauty. Like me, the years haven't left him totally untouched, bringing a little grey around his temples and a bit of softness to his tummy, but no amount of aging could ever diminish him in my eyes.

I went to meet him, and he greeted me by pulling me into a tight hug and a hungry kiss. Naked as he was, I felt him starting to swell. Without thinking about it, I ground my hips against his.

Relinquishing my mouth, he grinned at me. "Have fun today?"

"Like you don't know," I said with a grin of my own.

With an arm around my waist, he led the way to the couch. "Tell me everything."

As I started from the beginning, I felt sure things didn't get any better than this.