I Satisfy an Urge Whilst Shopping

My dick is all stiff. I'm confident in the way I have dressed; I know the waistband of my pretty pleated skirt will keep my one male part bound up against my pelvis throughout any ordinary movements. It has slipped up there a few times in the past, and I'm practiced enough to let it lie snugly under the soft fabric, sending me the occasional frictive tingle, without needing to look down and make sure it really can't be seen. This is beneficial, since the jutting shelf of my substantial breasts often prevents me from glancing directly at my groin—as now, when I'm about to engage the focus of my lust and I need what poise I can muster.

She's rummaging over some blouses; I've approached her from behind. I perk my face into a bright smile. "Excuse me... Jacie?" I say, holding my own choice of top out a little so that she will see I have a question about it. She turns, and my eyes spring up from her buttocks to meet her face, just in time. Her face, like her rear, is nice—it has a bit of the pushed-in quality of a Persian cat's face, but different in that there is enough vertical length to her nose, and strength in her chin, that she somehow looks both regal and vapid.

"Jacinda," she says to me with a blank expression. "Can I help you?"

"Ahh, Jacinda," I repeat conversationally, looking now at her nametag but considering instead the shape of the teenaged torso beneath it. It's compact, like the rest of this girl, but some elegant curves are visible behind Jacinda's surprisingly tasteful outfit. "I didn't read it right—how pretty!"

"Thanks," she says neutrally. "Did you need help?"

I'm feeling the hormones of arousal, but I consciously maintain my charm. "Do you think this would look nice on me?" I ask, presenting the stringy black top I've chosen. "I couldn't decide, and since you were dressed so nicely, I thought a second opinion might be in order." I'm pretty good at building goodwill with strangers. It works better with guys, of course, but that's not my interest right now.

Jacinda seems unimpressed; she's surely had her own experiences with guys. But she doesn't seem hostile either—just disengaged. On the job. She reaches out to touch my hanger, just enough to turn it toward her a little. Her distance is a bit of a challenge, and I'm surprised to feel a brief jealousy for the effortlessness with which she maintains it, though I know the cost to her must be significant. Someone with her just-a-little-too-thin-to-be-healthy physique probably doesn't enjoy meals very much, for one thing. But that won't stop me from enjoying her physique, if I can get the chance....

"Why don't you try it on?" she says, interrupting my thoughts. She isn't giving me many angles—a discussion of the details of the outfit would have helped me draw attention to my secondary sexual characteristics, which would be displayed to an extent some would consider immoral by such a delicate little top. And according to my experience, any talk of sex would serve to aid the effect of the pheromones I tend to radiate when I am aroused.

Then again, it might be just as well to actually squeeze into the top, and then brave the stares of any passing customers in order to show my goods to Jacinda. "Do I need a key or something?" I say, inclining my head toward the fitting rooms in the corner.

"No, just go in," she replies. Still no smile. I give her another of my own before thanking her and departing for the fitting rooms. I can feel my ass sashaying a little as I walk; she probably isn't even watching. I glance down at the garment in my hand—it's one, maybe two sizes too small. Tight squeeze, here I come.

"Wait," says a voice behind me. "You might need one in this size—your boobs are pretty big." I turn to see Jacinda, smiling just enough to show that she isn't trying to be rude. The expression warms me, and I return her smile without even trying. My literal temperature is rising too; it's a little hard to concentrate. My penis feels large, and very present.

"They are, aren't they?" I ask, daring to turn to the side and push my chest out, though this raises the hem of my shirt nearly enough to expose the tip of my cock. I hope I'm close enough to Jacinda that she can feel my chemistry.

"Yeah, you must get tired," she says, still smiling. I jiggle my breasts in my hands once, as if to test their weight (surely heavier than usual), and then I reach for the larger top. But my hand meets Jacinda's, and I know it's time to make the move. I look at her, a little dreamily, and she meets my gaze. Our hands are still touching, and maybe her face is flushed just a little—but it still looks queenly somehow. This girl will be a model. Maybe she is already. I can't wait to spread her buttocks so that I can moisten my cock inside her. But she hasn't given the signal. She might still run away.

All at once her face falls, in a self-conscious snicker, and she brings her other hand up to adjust her hair. Her face is totally red; she's grinning in beautiful, goofy discomfort. I blush a little in sympathy, but the moment is victorious; I'm in control now. Jacinda is still touching my hand—she couldn't let go of the hanger, because I never quite took hold of it. I stroke her finger with my own, and tug her by the hanger toward the dressing rooms. "Come on," I say with gentle authority. She bites her lip and looks at me sidelong, still bright red, and clumsily, silently follows.

I pull her straight to the back. I move efficiently, mindful that my new friend is ready to be taken, if I advance with confidence and grace. I don't look back, but I feel her behind me, submitting to my lead without question. My shirt, always snug in the chest, feels downright cumbersome as I open the latch on the rearmost fitting room. Its taut material distributes a suffocating tension around my heated torso. The room is rather small, and I feel that Jacinda should enter first. I step back and turn to her; my smile has grown dimmer, and hotter. My lips are parted, my nipples perked. I shine my lust on Jacinda.

She looks blank and exerted, as if she's just run a lap around the store and now she can't think why. Her little chest pulses with nervous breath. I tug the hanger lightly, and her arm moves with it. "You can put that down now," I whisper, my eyes crinkling into a grin. I slide my hand up her clothed arm, feeling its slenderness beneath her button-down shirt. She smiles again, but retains her grip.

"I've never done this before," she says, and her distant, slightly haughty tone suggests disdain for the very idea. But her smoky eyes are locked onto mine, and I know she's just scared. With boldness unchecked, I place my other hand on her shoulder, and lean in close. She tenses before me, but my firm touch keeps her steady, and in a moment our faces have nearly met. I breath her frightened air back over her narrow lips. Her eyes flutter halfway closed, and I know I have her again. I pull her perfumed scent in through my nose, wanting to lick all over her shallow, chiseled cheekbones. She produces a simple, lilting sigh. I need to get her into the fitting room, right now.

My arms curl around behind her as if we are about to dance. I know she feels my boobs; I hope she likes them. I swing her toward and through the door, dipping her backward. She feels just substantial enough in my arms. Her hands rise to my neck as she mimics the dance move with me, but they merely rest there; I'm strong enough to hold her easily. But I pull her up, kicking aside the discarded black top as I tug the door shut. She drapes over my front, tucking her sweet-smelling head gently over my athletic shoulder. I've got to get this shirt off. I peel it up roughly, loosening Jacinda's embrace while I drag it beyond my sweat-sheened titties. My cock is poking up visibly, but no one is looking at it.

"Ummm," murmurs the spellbound Jacinda, her eyes fixed on the cleavage beneath my lacey white bra. She is so ready. I'd like to bury her face in my chest; I want her to have what she desires. Maybe that can come later. Now I need to ravish her.

"Turn around, honey," I say, guiding her with gentle hands on her hip and side. Her tummy is smooth and tight; her body feels almost bony in its youthful slimness. But she is so very womanly as well, that I almost cry with hunger for her. "Come on, baby, yeah baby..." I push her toward the wall as I grope her skirted ass, feeling up the stems of her elegant thighs for the band of her underwear so that I can pull it down and out of the way. She's panting and so am I. I drop my own pleated skirt in one hard tug that sends it spinning down past the shelf of my high, round buttocks. My own panties offer no resistance; if anything they help to aim my swollen dick up toward its target.

Jacinda's ass is adorable, her economical cunt lips an invitation. I press myself onto her back, hooking my naked right leg past her slimmer ones. My cock flops onto the small of her back, but I won't let her consider this—I pull her tight to me, grasping both her small breasts in my hands and conforming my own to the hard curve of her back. She gives out a broken squeak, hands braced on the wall; my features are wrapped in a grimace. I must fuck, must fuck her now. My pelvis rocks back, dropping the penis under her groin, and then I thrust it up with controlled motion, finding by instinct, and with panty assist, the moist receptacle of my lover Jacinda.

I love my luck at catching her sweet hole so easily, and I exploit it without pause, inching my blood-stiffened girldick up the channel of her surprised, hungry pussy. We're too hot to talk this over; I must keep us so. I mash myself against her back so that she can barely hold me. But Jacinda's face, immediately beside mine, is tense with pleasure. I kiss her cheek and maul her well-covered breasts. She mewls in response, and my meaty shaft slips a little further with each heartbeat. I see her fingers claw-tight against the wall. I lick her delicate ear, groaning my passion across it. We shudder to a halt, and I'm all the way in.

"Oh god, oh god," rasps Jacinda. She twitches under my weight, and I hold her still with loving force. I'm suddenly afraid she will reject me now, even at our closest contact, and somehow the first image that arises is of her anus, cradled between her downy cheeks, forever protected from my questing penis by this shopgirl's fear of another woman's manhood. "Oh please fuck me, oh ohhhhhh..." She grunts and twists. The girl is cumming, and my world is clear again. I begin rocking my hips behind hers, in and out and in, lifting her off her heels each time. My right hand drops to her half-bare pussy and strokes it hard. "Mmmm, MmmmMMm!" I am so excited. The pink flesh deep in Jacinda's slender belly squeezes and rubs me, pushing and yielding with maddening rhythm. I shove into it again and again, probably hurting her a little, wanting to spew my cum up deep and getting nothing but cooperation from my crying, orgasmic friend. My balls retract, and I jerk, gripping Jacinda's tit hard and locking my other hand on her inner thigh. The hot wet rush pumps up my stalk and out to bathe her innards, sliming them with impossible girlish sperm. I moan in orgasm, loving each tingling jump of my cock, each spark through my compressed nipples. We rock together, and the lingering pleasures pulse through us. My fingers are pinching her titty-tip. Her cunt slurps at my root. Soon we slow, and Jacinda drops her head, collapsing back a few inches to rest her arms.

I ease my softening cock out of her, and gently pat down her skirt. She'll need to visit a bathroom to clean up, but this will do for now. I wonder if anyone has heard us, but I don't really care. As Jacinda catches her breath, I gather my own clothes, covering my swollen breasts first, and then my spent genitals. Jacinda turns toward me, sagging onto the small bench set that juts from the side wall, and I realize that she has not once looked at my penis.

She's looking at my face now. I smile at her. "You look very beautiful," I say.

"Thank you," she replies in a small voice. I think she believes me. I feel for the doorknob idly; I don't think Jacinda will know what to say now. I want to let her think things through. She watches me, used and vulnerable. She knows I'm about to leave.

I turn the knob back and forth a little, considering. "I want you to know two things," I tell her. "First, you won't get pregnant. You can trust me on that. Second..." I rummage in my purse for a pen and scrap of paper. I scribble my phone number on it, and offer it to her. "If you ever want to see me again..." I blush a little. I must like this girl.

Jacinda bites her lip. Then she leans forward, stiffly but gracefully, and reaches for the paper. As she takes it, I can't help but hold on for a moment; I stroke her fingers with my own, and then release my grip. I feel better now. I turn the knob, clicking its latch. "Bye," I say softly.

"Bye," says Jacinda. Her tone matches mine, though her customary layer of seeming indifference is already forming over it. I turn through the door and walk off, a spring in my step and a bounce in my tits.