Chapter 1

Geoff was about to have the night of his life; he just didn’t know it yet. I knew all too well because I was the sole reason his world was about to be rocked. Chance and fate would play their part, but I felt highly optimistic as well as nervous. For this date, our fourth, I had done all the planning. The truth be told, there wasn’t much scheming involved—I merely had to tell him where to meet me. Still, I was extremely trepidatious. My new beau ticked all the right boxes and then some, and I feared that this next step would doom the budding relationship.

In the past, I’d tried every trick and approach I could think of. No matter what I said, tried, or did, the result was always the same. As soon as I had sex with any potential suitor, male or female, disaster always followed. I hoped that Geoff would be different, but hope is all we have left when the reality of numerous experiences proves otherwise.

“This time, it will be different,” I promised the bitch in the mirror.

I’d been staring at myself on and off for the entire day. Mentally chastising myself for being nervous, I stopped teasing my hair and pondered my closet. I had time before the date, but I was pulling out all the stops for this one. Geoff had been my every fantasy up to that point, and I was going to reward him. Besides, if I didn’t have a hard cock to pound my dripping wet cunt into oblivion before the night ended, I’d explode. Therein lies my biggest problem.

On our first date, a fine dinner and a movie, I had to take several bathroom breaks. Not cursed with a tiny bladder, my frequent excursions weren’t to relieve myself. Geoff’s superpower was this intense aura of sexuality. He made me so horny that I needed relief—the relief of an orgasm. For that date, I’d dressed cute and casual in jeans and a nice blouse. I didn’t want him to think that I was a rutting slut who wanted to constantly fuck his brains out. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on one’s point of view, I was.

On that first date, he mesmerized me with his personality and seduced me with magnetism. During our second date, when I had dressed suggestively and grown comfortable around him, he’d earned my trust and admiration. That very fun date was miniature golf, and I nearly surrendered to my infinite lust and ravaged him before the course’s fourth hole. Our third date was a wanton repeat of the previous two, including secret masturbation breaks. Geoff had that effect on me—he affected all women that way, it seemed.

I held out for as long as I could, but when he suggested a fourth date before seeing if I’d sleep with him—as many women practice that pesky three-date ritual—hope sprang in my breast and nectar flowed from my always-wet pussy. Thus far, Geoff has proven himself to be my romance novel fantasy man. I just hoped that he truly was. If not, at least I’d give him dirty, nasty, torrid sex that he’d remember for eternity.

“You know fucking him is going to destroy everything,” my flame-haired reflection told me.

The bitch was right, but I didn’t care. Returning to my primping, I set about making myself as physically desirable as possible. Being sexy is both a privilege and a curse. One of the biggest problems with being an attractive woman is that most people assume you’re vapid. I had a brain and even a shining personality, albeit quirky and nerdy.

However, as soon as somebody glimpses my pert, high breasts, the hourglass curves of my body, or my heart-shaped, firm behind that once caused a traffic accident, they forget that there’s a living, breathing person inside that body and treat me like a fuck-toy. That night, I was doing everything I could to entice Geoff into treating me that way. All I had to do was simply be myself. My true nature—a sexual force of nature—always got me sex.

I teased my hair out, then tried it in a ponytail. Not liking that look, I attempted pigtails, and then wearing my hair up. Ultimately, I settled on gentle waves, my natural red hair looking like a fiery waterfall. As long as my hair is, it hangs down to my waist, even after sculpting it into cascading flames. Finding it sexy but not enticing enough, I wove a few tendrils into a slim braid that hung just off my right temple. That simple alteration added a “wild in bed” allure, not that I needed a boost in that department.

Dark, smoky makeup highlighted my facial features. My high, pronounced cheekbones were the perfect canvas for some midnight blush, and my moss-green eyes popped under the frame of wispy, dark eye shadow. Dark, almost Goth lipstick turned my slightly plump lips into a centerpiece, drawing one’s eyes and evoking visions of my mouth doing whorish, slutty things. Using just barely enough foundation to subdue my freckles turned my sexy face into one of sexual allure with promises of sensual delights that few mortals would ever taste.

With my hair teased out just so and my makeup perfect, my wardrobe had to match that sensuality. I spent hours trying various ensembles, finally settling on one that radiated “fuck me” vibes. I called it truth in advertising. I covered my slender frame with a frilly dark charcoal top, one that made wearing a bra impossible, and a gauzy skirt that was perfectly cut to draw one’s sexual attention to my shapely ass and hips.

The blouse was spun from fine muslin, the scrunchy fabric molding itself to my high, plump breasts. The shirt was an off-the-shoulder cut, with some stretchy ruffles drawing the eye. Down the center of the front, the feminine blouse tied with dark laces zigzagging from the swooping, cleavage-revealing neck to the bottom. The lacing was designed to never fully close, revealing my flesh beneath the micro-thin fabric.

A designer cut, the top wasn’t just skin-baring; it had been designed to enhance the wearer’s breasts. The fabric’s waves expertly hid the fact that the blouse was cut to lovingly cup my breasts and accentuate their contours. The overall effect was that my tits were enhanced. The bottom hem was perfectly positioned as well. The sides of my designer blouse gently swooped outward from the gap in the middle, widening more than an extra inch before the top ended just above my waistline.

I’m not huge in the breast department, but I’m not small either. On paper, my boobs sounded boring—a simple 36C. However, my slight, athletic frame made them seem much larger, especially with the curvy taper from my torso to my waist. My tits spill over the sides of my body and hang very high with nice separation. My upward-pointing nipples are constantly hard, and the muslin fabric, while opaque, showed the contours of not only my nipples but also the puffy areolas around them. In excellent physical condition, my braless boobs had just enough bounce to hypnotize, but not enough to be vulgar.

Rather than wear pants, I settled for something that provided much easier access. An asymmetrical skirt, inspired by gypsies and medieval wenches, adorned my lower half. The layered fabric was in a muted forest green, matching both my eyes and hair. On the left side, the hemline descended to my ankle, but it swept upward and ended just below the top of my thigh on the right. The simple, gauzy fabric was embellished with some wispy trim, more ruffles, along the edges and bottom.

I loved the skirt and the way it accented the round plumpness of my ass, but it was too long for my intentions. A simple belt in thin brown leather was the perfect solution. Canting the belt loosely over my hips at a slight angle and rolling the elastic waistband of the skirt over multiple times raised the bottom hem to my calf. This had the added effect of raising the already-scandalous slit a few inches over the top of my thigh. That made wearing panties an impossibility—not that I ever wear them, anyway.

“Geoff’s getting fucked hard, tonight,” I told the bitch in the mirror.

Looking at myself in my full-length mirror, I was pleased with my appearance. I radiated sex, plain and simple. I looked like a cross between a model and a porn star. I hadn’t crossed the line into trashy slutdom, but I was definitely hovering near the border. Slut-adjacent was how I looked, and it was perfect.

By the time my ride arrived, my cellphone pinging to tell me the driver was outside, I had worked myself up into such a sexual frenzy that two of my fingers had found their way through the body-revealing slit in my skirt and were feverishly plunging themselves into my sopping hole. Luckily, the driver didn’t mind one bit that I finished myself off during the ride to the bar. He enjoyed the show, and I got off on being watched. That was a win-win.

Other than my legs, which are a bit too scrawny for my taste, I have the look of a sexually wild vixen. I usually can’t make it from my car and across a store’s parking lot without every would-be Lothario in a two-mile radius accosting me. That time, I welcomed the attention. I timed my arrival to be intentionally late, texting Geoff that I was running behind and would be there within half an hour. I not only wanted to gauge his reaction when I walked in, but I wanted to savor the lusty stares and ogling.

Geoff and the public didn’t disappoint. He was already seated, chatting with the adoring waitress. Even from across the restaurant, I could tell that my hopeful boyfriend’s stunning good looks and seductive charisma were working their magic on her. She was giddy with laughter, reaching out to touch him as he said some unheard comment she found amusing. I glowered, then corrected my expression, adopting a mien of seductive horniness.

Every set of male eyes and most of the females’ couldn’t help but stare at me as I sauntered toward our booth. I could feel the laser-like heat of lusty gazes on my ass. The skirt was so thin that the very slight jiggle from each step resounded through the gauze fabric. The skirt’s cloth was also thin enough that the contours of my figure were barely shadowed when light shone from behind. It just so happened that a row of lights ran across the front entrance, highlighting the curve of my hips and my legs’ tapering lines. A waiter openly stared at my freely bouncing tits. I caught his eye and gave him a wink and smile as he blushed.

“Hi, Geoff,” I smiled, seating myself.

I made certain to swivel my leg out from the slit as I maneuvered into the bench seat. That showed off my lacy sandal, all of my leg, and enough of my hip that my victim’s eyes focused on my hip bone with orgasmic intensity. My hard nipples tingled at that.

The man-stealing waitress may have been hot, but my sexuality eclipsed her. I shot her a demure smile, not at all flustered. I simply smiled at her, then shot Geoff a look that projected all my lust at him. His eyes met mine, and he smiled. He was doing that thing again, that thing where he makes me need to cum without even touching me.

I quickly grabbed the drink menu, making sure to jiggle my boobs ever so slightly. Geoff looked hypnotic in a simple black linen shirt and jeans that were tight in all the right places. His muscular body and long, dreamy medium blond hair gave him a rebel-warrior vibe. He was exactly my type, any woman’s type.

“See,” he said to the waitress. “My goddess has arrived.”

“Hmph,” the cute and buxom woman emoted. “Ready for drinks then?” I ignored her eyes scanning his body and settling on the wonderful, promising bulge at his crotch.

“So many choices,” I purred to her, my voice sounding as if I were cumming. “Can you give us a few minutes?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

I waited until she’d retreated, my nerves overpowering my composure. Mentally promising myself that I wouldn’t launch myself into scaring him away with the truth, I considered a million things to say.

“Do you consent to sex with me, tonight?” I blurted out, mentally cursing myself.

He gave me that crooked smile of his, his well-defined cheekbones scrunching up to his mirth-filed hazel eyes. Geoff could either tell from my tone that I was about to talk my head off, which I do when I’m nervous, or he was so taken aback that he couldn’t find any words. Having experienced his delightful, sharp and quick wit and mesmerizing conversation, I doubted it was the latter. He was perfect for me; I hoped he’d be the one.

Before he had the chance to formulate any response, I verbally pushed forward.

“I’ll be honest with you, starting now.”

A single eyebrow raised on his humpable face, Geoff’s expression showing volumes of understanding. I didn’t need to tell him that I’d been holding back. I got the very real impression that he already knew. Despite us only kissing and a few glorious fondles thrown into the mix, I’d been a good girl. My behavior wasn’t truly by choice; I wanted to decide if he could handle me. Hundreds of broken relationships had been left in my wake. The jury was still out, but I felt that he could.

I forged ahead. “This is how I usually dress. Too slutty for you?” I didn’t give him a second to respond. “I dress for attention because I’m an attention whore, and I love it. Well, actually, I’m just a fucking whore. I’m the sluttiest slut you’ll ever meet. That’s why I didn’t sleep with you yet. That’s been a struggle, because you check all my boxes, and I’m really into you. You make me so wet I haven’t stopped masturbating since our first date.”

I paused, waiting for my soon-to-be lover’s acknowledgment. He merely nodded, somehow conveying volumes of understanding, and sipped his water. Having his full attention, as always, I soldiered on.

“The problem is that I’m really, really into you and would like to pursue a relationship. Be warned, though. Sexually, I’m way too much for any guy ... any woman, too, and there’s been a lot of both.”

His hand was on the table, and I took it into mine. Shivers went down my spine as I felt the manliness of his flesh, that hardness that made me fantasize about how hard other pieces of him could be. When we’d kissed, my caresses over his body felt as if I were running my hands over chiseled marble. My pussy gushed at the thought of his body.

“You know how everybody wants a constantly horny, uninhibited, sexual wildcat for their lover?” I continued. “I’m all of that times infinity. I’m always horny and crazier than the most filthy, dirty, perverted porn you jerk off to. Trust me on that one. I probably fucked myself into oblivion watching kinkier shit than you do. The truth is, nobody can handle my sexual urges. Everybody gets jealous and insecure, and they try to ‘fix’ me or tame me.”