I wore his cum all day like a good little slut

He told me not to clean up. Said it with that kinky smile, like he knew ill obey.

I could still feel it leaking when I pulled my panties back up, his cum warm and sticky against my pussy, soaking into the thin fabric. Every step down his apartment stairs made it shift, smear, remind me.

I wore them on the train home. Sat there, legs pressed tight together, praying no one noticed the faint wet patch under my skirt. I wore them walking through the grocery store, trembling as I bent to grab something off the bottom shelf, knowing it was probably visible.

Then my mom called. Lunch? Sure. I sat across from her at the coffee shop, trying to keep a straight face every time i shifted and felt that tacky mess sticking, pulling, dripping. If only she knew whats going on between my legs. That made me so wet, craving for his dick in me again.

By the time I finally got home, my panties were ruined, soaked through from his load and my own slick, because every humiliating thought made me wetter.