Chapter 1: The Unexpected Matchmaker
The dim lights of the quaint café in Goes, a sleepy town in Zeeland, flickered over the crowd of hopeful singles at the speed dating event. I hadn’t been back here in years, not since I left for Denmark, chasing love that eventually shattered when I found my ex in bed with someone else. Three years abroad, and now I was back, nursing a bruised heart in my rural hometown. The irony wasn’t lost on me as I scanned the room, half-expecting nothing but awkward small talk.
That’s when I saw her—Suzan, my old roommate from university days. She stood out like a flame in the muted crowd, her petite, fit frame wrapped in a burgundy cocktail dress that hugged her curves with elegant precision. Her German-Turkish heritage gave her a striking look: sharp cheekbones, olive skin, and dark, piercing eyes that could command a room. She spotted me, and a grin broke across her face as she strutted over, her heels clicking with purpose.
“Well, damn, look who crawled back to Goes,” she teased, her voice warm but edged with that strict tone I remembered so well. “You look like you’ve been through a war, mate.”
I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, Suzan, you could say that. Caught my ex cheating. Packed up Denmark and came back to lick my wounds.”
Her eyes softened for a moment before a wicked smirk replaced it. “Sounds like you need to get laid, pronto. Good thing you’re here—plenty of fish in this tiny pond.”
I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Right, because speed dating in Goes is the perfect place to find true love—or at least a decent rebound.”
She winked, nudging me with her elbow. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out for someone to mend that broken heart… or at least distract it.”
We sat side by side through the first few rounds, exchanging quips about the women I met. There was Mariska, dolled up in a tight pink dress, but her conversation was as flat as the polders outside. Then came Lisa, nice enough with her bright smile, but no spark. Suzan wasn’t faring much better, muttering under her breath about ‘boring farmers’ and ‘desperate housewives.’
Between the third round, she leaned over, her perfume—a mix of jasmine and something spicy—tickling my senses. “Alright, spill it. What kind of woman are you actually looking for?”
I grinned, leaning back with a mock-serious expression. “Someone with huge tits and a willing mouth. Think you can find her in Goes?”
Suzan barked out a laugh, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Challenge accepted, perv. Let’s see what the last rounds bring.”
Two rounds later, I found myself across from Polly. She was a shy, polite 30-year-old, her chubby frame hidden under a big, fuzzy blue sweater that did little to conceal the massive curves beneath. Her natural tits strained against the fabric, and I couldn’t help but notice the way her big ass shifted as she adjusted in her seat. Her round face was framed by soft brown curls, and her nervous smile was oddly endearing. We chatted about mundane things—her job at a local bakery, my recent move back—but there was a quiet allure in her bashful demeanor.
After the event, Suzan, ever the schemer, invited Polly for drinks at a nearby café on the main square. The three of us squeezed into a corner booth, the place buzzing with late-night chatter. A few beers in, the atmosphere loosened. Suzan shrugged off her coat, revealing more of that burgundy dress clinging to her toned body, and Polly, emboldened by the alcohol, finally shed her sweater. Underneath was a tight, low-cut top and a slightly transparent black skirt that hinted at the elaborate blue lingerie set I’d later discover—floral lace on a tiny bra, stockings, and a thong that left little to the imagination.
I excused myself to grab another round, and when I returned, the air had shifted. Suzan was leaning in close to Polly, her voice low and teasing. “Come on, Polly, you’ve got to have a wild side under all that shy girl charm. Are you secretly a bad girl? A good little slut waiting to break free?”
Polly blushed crimson, but a small, nervous giggle escaped her lips. “I—I don’t know about that. I’m just… me.”
Suzan’s eyes flicked to me as I sat down, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She was enjoying this—playing puppet master, planting seeds of temptation. I felt a heat stir in me, not just from the beer, but from the tension crackling between us all. Suzan’s gaze lingered on Polly’s chest, those massive tits barely contained, and I caught myself staring too.
Hours passed, the café grew louder, and we grew tipsier. It was late when I started to say goodbye, but Suzan cut me off, her voice smooth as silk. “Why end the night now? You’ve got that new place just above the shop on the square, right? Let’s have one more drink there.”
Polly hesitated, then nodded, her eyes darting between us with a mix of curiosity and something hotter. My pulse quickened as we climbed the narrow stairs to my small apartment, the sound of Suzan’s heels and Polly’s soft breaths behind me. I unlocked the door, the dim light casting shadows over us. Suzan brushed past me, her hand grazing my arm, while Polly lingered near the doorway, her sweater now off again, those curves on full display.
“Nice place,” Suzan purred, her eyes scanning the room before landing on me with a predatory glint. “Let’s make it even cozier.”
My heart pounded as I poured drinks, the air thick with unspoken desire. Suzan’s dress slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing a glimpse of black lace underneath. Polly sat on the couch, her skirt riding up just enough to show the edge of her stockings. I handed them their glasses, sitting between them, the heat of their bodies close enough to feel. Whatever was about to happen, I knew it was going to be explosive.
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