Window Shopping

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A middle-aged man gets flashed at the mall.
3.5k words
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So... I'm an old married guy. I've been married since I was nineteen and now I'm fifty-three. We, my wife and I, I mean, have something that's pretty, rare now days. We've been married for the entire time, thirty-four years. I'm sure most of you would think it was because we're so wonderfully in love and we share everything and are so open and honest with each other. Bullshit! I'm here to tell you, right now, marriage is all about understanding what to say to your spouse and what not to say. If your wife asks if she looks pretty, I don't care what you think, you had better smile and tell her that she looks as beautiful now as when you married. Your life might depend on it and I'm convinced your marriage definitely does.

And it's compromise, too, that's what it is! If she wants to have a candle lit meal at a French restaurant and you want a steak and a beer, you need to let her have her way. If she wants to watch some chick-flick on Lifetime and you're watching a ball game you better have a little TV in the basement. It's because I believe in compromise in our marriage that I go shopping at the mall with her once a month.

She just kind of goes nuts at the mall. She has to look in every dress shop there and she always buys something and swears to me that it was on sale and was some fantastic deal. I let her shop where she wants and buy what she wants. I make enough that it isn't a problem as long as she doesn't go overboard. I follow her for a while, but then I can usually tell her I'm tired of walking and I find a seat on the husband bench until she's finished and we can go home.

It's better now that the mall has Wi-Fi. I take the laptop and watch a digital feed game, or do my weekly expense reports. It's a little hard to concentrate, though, because I like to do what I call 'window-shopping.' It never fails that the women in the mall dress pretty nice. They don't usually want the other women to see them looking shabby, so they wear the tight jeans or the short skirts and get their hair fixed nice. I like to watch the women in the mall. Alright, I'm married, I know I can't touch. I'm window-shopping.

Last month there wasn't a game on and the wife had just kissed me and was heading for the shoe store, so I took a seat on the bench and started shopping. My wife wasn't even out of sight and I was already checking out this college girl. She was walking past in a little cotton pleated mini-skirt and cut-off tee, with one of those pink hoody things. The hoody was too short to cover her waist, but the sleeves were so long that they flopped past her wrists to her palms and the hood too small to actually wear. Besides her legs, which were really nice, what caught my attention was her hair. I'm a hair man. She had this fantastic, too-blond, long hair that was way past her shoulders and just all over spilling down her back.

I sat on the bench a little bit watching the girls go by and she came back up the other side. We were on the second floor, and there was an open area between my side and her side where you could look down at the first floor through the handrail. She strolled up and sat down right on the other side across from me, right on the bench on the far side. I can't help but check out her legs. She had the greatest skinny college girl legs with smooth, round knees and a little pair of topsiders, canvas, tennis shoes.

She was just sitting there and she took out a spiral notebook and started reading. I figured she must be doing her homework or something. She sat there the longest time. I filled up my eyes checking out her legs and her heart-shaped, pretty face and wishing she would shift enough so that I could see up her skirt a little. Ok, so I'm a pervert. Life is short, at my age I get all the thrills I can. Eventually a girl walked by that caught my attention and I watched her until she was out of sight, then I looked back.

She must have turned a page while I was looking away, because her spiral notebook page had something written on the back, the page facing me, in big magic-marker letters that said, "Hi, I'm Brittney." I thought it was sort of funny. She must have been writing a note to some guy and it was still in her notebook. I probably smiled about it and thought how lucky the guy was. I didn't know who she was flirting with, but I hope somebody somewhere was getting something off of that tiny, little, college-girl body of hers.

But then she turned another page and there was another note written on it in magic-marker that said, "I like to show off." I was thinking, "what does that mean." Was that note for me, or was it still something she wrote to some guy at school? She was just sitting there, smiling, and still reading her notebook. I thought that she must know what was written on the back of the notebook, since it was probably what she had been looking at before she turned the page, unless she was turning a few pages at a time. Was that what she was doing?

She was still smiling when she turned the page. Now the back of the notebook said, "if you like me, scratch your chin." I was scratching my chin instantly without even thinking. It was sort of automatic.

She had barely glanced up, but she was still smiling. She shifted in her seat and crossed her legs and I watched every microsecond. She was sitting pretty proper and I didn't see anything except the back of a little of her thigh. It was good, though. Smooth California tanned legs as far as the eye could see.

She just sat like that for a while, but I didn't take my eyes off of her. I don't think a fire alarm would have made me take my eyes off of her. I had pretty much decided that she had been flirting with some college guy and I was just imagining that she was sending me messages but I was seeing what she had written to him. But I was still watching. I was just hoping she would move a little more when she turned a page again.

She did this one a little different. She put the notebook on her lap so that I couldn't see the back of it and grabbed a divider on a page and turned it. I could see it had magic-marker on it when she turned it, but I didn't see what it said until a minute later when she lifted it just enough so that I could read it. Now it said, "if you want to see my breast." That was all there was room for on the page. She laid it back on her lap after she let me see. I couldn't wait for the rest of the message. I was sitting there nodding my head up and down like an idiot.

She turned the page, still smiling, but never really looking at me, as if she was just a girl sitting on a bench in the mall and reading. The new page said, "tug your ear." I tugged my ear right away. I didn't know if she ever saw. She was pretty cool about it. She just sat there and smiled and let the notebook back down on her lap. In a few seconds she slipped her hand to the bottom of her tee shirt, just inside her open hoody and it seemed like she was absent-mindedly scratching an itch on her ribs. Instead her hand raised the tee shirt just far enough that I caught a quick glimpse of the bottom lobe of her breast and a quick shot of tiny, brown nipple.

It seemed like it was getting a little hot in the mall, all of the sudden. I was pretty excited, I'm not kidding. She was just sitting there smiling. I think it occurred to me about this time that there might be someone else watching, so I looked around me and in the store behind, but there wasn't anyone there. When I looked back she had already turned a page and the new page said, "want to see again?" I pulled my ear, again.

Very slowly she ran her hand to the bottom of her shirt and lifted it slightly. I saw a pierced belly button and she moved like she was scratching again, only the shirt came up far enough that I saw a perfect nineteen-year-old, B-cup breast with a small innocent looking nipple and an untanned triangular bikini line running across it.

If I close my eyes I can still imagine it. It was perfect and perky, with smooth skin. I'm not a big breast guy. I love the small ones. I love thinking about how it would feel and taste and how the tiny little nipples would react when sucked on and nibbled.

I only saw it for less than a second, but it was great, etched forever indelibly on my brain. She let the tee shirt back down and just sat there, smiling. In a few minutes she turned a page again. The back page said, "want to see the other one?" Ear tug.

She shifted a little, smiling the entire time, eyes down...she was reading a notebook, after all. She shifted the notebook to her left hand and the right one slid along her tiny waist and flipped the bottom of her tee shirt to expose her left breast to me for a heartbeat or two, and by now my heartbeat was a little fast. Her smile broadened a little and she shifted again. By now I was a little uncomfortable myself. I had a tent going that was a little painful. Here was this gorgeous, young girl toying with me and I was having a day I would remember for a long time. I was hoping my wife would take her time shopping.

The girl turned another page. "Both?" it said. I tugged an ear and she turned a page and it said, "wait." I was waiting. For the first time she was openly looking around. She looked up the mall one way and the other, and even looked down to the first floor. Some people were passing by behind me, then some more, but in a few minutes she leaned up a little and looked down and she raised her shirt up completely, giving me an unobstructed view of her firm, beautiful breasts. They weren't big, but they were so nicely shaped like firm nectarines, the smooth skin crossed by tan lines. Before the next bunch of shoppers passed she had let her shirt back down. For the first time she looked directly at me and smiled a broad smile.

I thought I was in love. If I had been thirty years younger I would have been buying roses. I was hoping we weren't finished. She shifted in her seat and uncrossed her legs, a movement that I didn't miss.

Page turn...sign says, "more?" Ear tug. She grinned her pretty girl grin again and she messed with the hem of her skirt. Her knees parted just a little. I got the idea she was toying with me. She looked at me again and turned a page in the notebook.

She left the notebook in her lap for just a few seconds more while some shoppers walked past, then she held it up. "I'm a magician," it read. That one seemed a little strange. Another page turned, she held it down for a minute and toyed with the hem of her skirt, then lifted the notebook and I read "Now you see it..." "See what," I was thinking?

Her knees spread a little more and she flipped up the edge of her skirt like she was straightening it and I caught a quick view of white panties. I must have been grinning like an idiot.

She didn't hesitate this time, but she turned a page and laid the notebook in her lap, picked at the hem of her skirt, and the next thing I read was "now you don't." The perfect round knees came apart again and she tugged at her skirt, but this time I caught sight of a smoothly shaved pussy with what looked to be a tiny patch of pubic hair above it.

The look on my face must have been a riot, because she broke into a huge smile and gave a little laugh. She turned the pages of the notebook back to where it had been before and flashed the page that said "Now you see it...," again. "She has that backwards," I was thinking. She giggled a little bit as she played with the hem of her skirt. When she straightened her skirt this time she moved a little slower and more deliberately and she was wearing panties again. She broke into a little snicker and turned the pages again. "Now you don't" I read again. She picked at the hem of her skirt again and raised it and I was looking at her trim, smooth pussy lips again. She laughed a little college girl laugh, this time, and fell a little sideways, but straightened up again and flipped back a few pages. I read "now you see it..." again and she picked at the hem of her skirt, lifted it, and I saw a pretty pair of demure, teenage girl, white panties, then flipped pages forward and flashed "now you don't" and picked at her skirt. She flashed me again, this time giving me a nice long look as she shifted her feet and ankles a little pigeon-toed and parted her legs. I got a wonderful look at her tight pussy and for the first time I noticed that the neatly trimmed patch was shaped like a tiny exclamation point.

She straightened up and fixed me in a wicked look with a little mischievous smile while she flipped pages. She sat up straight on the bench, gathered herself a little and turned a page in the notebook. "See it all?" it said. I had to keep myself from tugging my ear off. She just almost openly laughed. Pages turned. "Wait," it said.

She innocently looked around her, checking for other shoppers and people walking past. It was tearing me up that the mall was busy that day. I found myself silently cursing the shoppers, slowly walking along and talking about this window and that store. An old lady was toddling along and a lady with a baby in a stroller went by. I was seriously ready to tear out some hair, if I had enough hair to grab anymore. In a few minutes, though, there was a break in the traffic. She fixed me with a direct look and raised her eyebrows at me in a coquettish look. Her tee shirt quickly lifted and exposed both her perfect, nubile, young breasts to me and she lifted the edge of her skirt. I was looking at a beautiful young girl as near to completely naked as I had seen in years.

I couldn't have been more excited if I had won the lottery. I knew she was playing a game with me and I had no hopes that a married fifty-three year old guy was going to be seduced by a blond, vivacious college girl, but it was certainly the most excitement that I had in a long time. I just sat there drinking in the smooth, slim lines of her young figure and thinking about the way her perfect, naked skin looked. The biggest surprise was yet to come.

She actually stood up and walked across the little bridge between my side and hers and sat down on the other side of my bench, close enough that her side was touching mine. She twisted around and started talking to me.

"Did you like that," she asked?

"Oh, God, yes," I blurted out to her. I was turned enough to see her and studied the lines of her face.

"I like doing that." She tilted her head a little to nod to the rotunda at the center of the mall a few stores away. "See the guy down there in the green jacket?"

I looked to see a slim, dark haired guy standing at the railing and watching us.

"That's my boyfriend. We both like doing this. It's exciting for us."

"Your boyfriend doesn't mind if you do this?"

"No, he likes that men look at me and think I'm sexy. It makes him want me more."

"Really?"

"Yeah, when we leave we're going back to our apartment and make out like crazy."

"Do you always do this here at the mall," I asked? I was hoping for another free show someday.

"No, we aren't even from here. We pick a different place every time."

"Too bad."

She grinned at me. "You're a cute old guy. I saw you with your wife when you sat down. That's sweet."

"Oh?"

"Would you do something for me?"

"Um," I wasn't too sure about what she was going to ask me, "yeah, I guess."

"I just want something to think about. When your wife comes back and you get home, have sex with her...," she leaned over close like she was being confidential, "and think about me."

"Oh I think you can be certain about that." I grinned at her big.

"Is she anywhere around right now?"

I looked up and down carefully before I told her that she wasn't around.

She stood up and leaned over to me, making her little scratching movement as she did and when she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek I felt her bare nipple brush my arm.

"Bye," she said and briskly walked away. I watched her pretty ass bouncing under her skirt the entire way to her boyfriend. They kissed a long, warm kiss and he walked her off laced arm in arm. She turned back once and smiled at me and gave a little wave.

I had the damnedst time waiting for my wife to come back. I wanted to go looking for her once or twice, but she finally showed up about a half-hour later. She had to show me all the fabulous things she bought, so I listened, or pretended to, intently. I walked her to the car, carrying all the bags and let her tell me about what great bargains she found and what a smart shopper she had been.

We got home and I let her try on a dress to show me and I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed her. I just grabbed her. I told her that seeing her in her new dress made me remember how beautiful and sexy she was, and I wanted to lay her down on the bed and make love to her right that minute. She protested quite a bit, but she always did love sex, so it didn't convince me.

"What if the kids come home," she was trying to ask me?

"Johnny got paid yesterday and Tom has that girlfriend of his. They're supposed to be home by midnight, but I don't think we'll see them before that." I wrapped her up in my arms and started kissing her neck. She started shuddering. She never could resist that, when I kissed her on the neck.

I locked the bedroom door and got her new clothes off and the two of us, fifty-three years old, both, made love like teenagers. At least, I was pretending she was a teenager. Sure, it took some doing and some imagination, but it really wasn't that difficult. I always did love her body. I played with her breasts and held them up until they almost seemed to be the breasts of a young, college girl. I kissed her skin and played with her and then I made fierce love to her, as fierce as my middle-aged heart would let me. I think I broke my promise a little. I didn't think strictly of Brittney the entire time. I slipped a few times and was just thinking of my wife some.

When we finished she laid up next to me and wanted to know what got into me that day. I did what a good husband that wants to keep a good marriage should do. I lied my ass off. I told her that I had been watching her try on clothes that day and I just remembered what a beautiful, sexy woman she was, and I wanted to make love to her. She cuddled with me and smiled.

"Well, if watching me try on clothes affects you like this, I need to take you to the mall more often."

Oh, hell. Compromise, man.

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7 Comments
bottovarnisbottovarnisabout 2 years ago

great tease! perfectly paced and realistically written. I'd enjoy experiencing this myself. Thank you.

AussieKev1AussieKev1over 2 years ago

G’day. I didn’t even notice the commas, so they must have been in the right places. Great, inventive and you had me as entranced as she had you. Top job, mate.

CeasarBoobageCeasarBoobageover 11 years ago

Nicely done! You don't have to be 53 to need that level of awesomeness, it's too bad it would never happen in real life though.

Gotta love how people must be grammar nazis. Please people, enjoy the story for what it is and ignore the little stuff.

KinkyJakeKinkyJakeabout 12 years ago
Wonderful, exciting, sexy, story......

That was a great story. Don't mind the critics that seem to have a need of just talking about, commas. I, myself, use way too many when writing stories or just letters, for that matter. To be honest.... I really didn't notice the commas because I was enthralled by the sexy, young girl, giving you that wonderfully naughty show. I really enjoyed reading your recounting of your trip to the mall.

Keep on writing, commas and all.

LarryInSeattleLarryInSeattleabout 12 years ago
Great story...well told

There are too many commas but not to the point of being distracting. But as long as you are going to be writer, check an authority (I suggest Gregg's) for the proper use of them. Many of the commas should have been used with parenthetical or hyphenated phrases. Adjectives do not need to be separated by commas - example; "..young, college girl..." And only use a comma before or after "but" when a real break is necessary. I'll stop.

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