Window Shopping Ch. 03

James found her nub and kept pressure on it with his thumb; he allowed her bouncing to stimulate her clit and the extra attention was all she needed. Her climax rocked through her like a lightning bolt. Her muscles went taut before she collapsed in exhaustion on his lap; her collapse ground her harder onto his cock, further heightening her fullness, the bliss of his thick cock inside her; she squirmed, trying to allow the wave of pleasure to ebb, but only succeeded in putting more pressure on her clit—a small aftershock hit. And then another. And another. Each jolt contracted her dripping wet cunt and numbed her senses; Sandi pressed her lips to James' and buried her tongue as deep in his mouth as she could.

James lifted her gently and slowly let her slide back onto his shaft. He was drenched in her juices and still enjoying every second of the warm, wet, silky, slushing. After his last stroke he clenched her tired body close to his and plunged as deep as he could—Sandi yelped into his mouth. He rolled over to his left, clumsily but gently moving the pair into her cargo area. There were no seats in the back, just a wide open space that felt absolutely cavernous after being in the front.

He laid her tired, disheveled body down and began kissing every inch of exposed flesh he could find. Sandi's hair was matted to her forehead, her eyes closed and chest heaving from exhaustion; small beads of sweat had formed on her upper lip and her juicy mouth was slightly agape. She stretched her arms above her head, drawing more attention to her prefect breasts as they plopped to the side under their own weight.

James took the time to notice each one of these traits—that was his skill, noticing everything. He lavished attention on her figure from head to toe—straightening her hair, kissing her lips, caressing her mouth and circling her sensitive nipples with his tongue. All the while he kept his rock hard cock firmly in place, as if he was pinning her to the floor of the truck.

"I... I can't," Sandi eked out, exasperated.

James simply covered her breathing with his mouth and rolled his tongue around hers. He slowly withdrew the length of his shaft, and then equally as delicately he pressed it back in; he didn't force it. He allowed her pussy to draw it back in, begging to be filled once more. He could feel he was close to orgasm but thought he might be able to last just long enough...

His thrusting picked up speed; James broke their kiss to reposition Sandi's legs and get better leverage. He took her splayed legs and pressed them tightly together at her silky thighs; this action contracted her tired and over-stimulated cunt hard around his shaft. Her pussy began to ooze once more.

"Oh..." Sandi trailed off, "that feels..."

James continued sloshing into her, picking up the rhythm and thrusting more forcibly.

"That feels so... ughhhh, my God. Please don't... stop..."

Quite the opposite, James went faster. He pistoned in and out of the tiny pussy, making sure each thrust was a full penetration of his thick cock.

"OhMmmm... P-play with me," Sandi begged.

James moved her hand to her clit and started circling it with her fingers; she didn't need much encouragement and began vigorously stroking her clit to orgasm.

James pushed her legs further back and arched her butt in the air; her ankles were now beside her ears and James was drilling straight down while she stroked her clit. He felt her pussy contracting, each throb just a few seconds apart; his own orgasm surged forth. He clenched his balls, begging them not to let loose before Sandi came—but to no avail. James erupted into her tiny body and buried his cock as deep as he could in her cunt.

Sandi could feel his warm goo flooding her womb—with just a few more strokes she too tipped over the edge and let loose a wave of cum. Their fluids intermingled and the extra contractions from her orgasm milked James even further past what he thought he had.

Now utterly exhausted, James lowered himself onto Sandi and supported his weight with his elbows. He tucked his head next to hers and sighed deeply, breathing in her salty skin and vanilla perfume. Her legs lowered to his sides and stretched into the front seat; his cock slowly ebbed and plopped from her warm pussy.

They held each other for a long while, basking in their cool sweat and holding each other while their bodies recovered.

Days seemed to pass by while they laid there; gradually the movie faded back into their awareness.

"Are you married?" Sandi broke the silence, staring at the roof of her truck.

"What?" came James' reply, genuinely caught off guard by the question.

"You're married, aren't you." Sandi stated, a little more sure of herself now.

"No Sandi, I'm not married."

"Prove it."

"Uh... how would I do that? Why don't you prove that I am? Innocent until proven guilty and all."

"You're many things Mister James, but innocent is not one of them."

James joined Sandi's stare at the roof, "Shoals."

"What?"

"James Shoals."

"Is that your name? How do I know?"

"Well, I guess you'll have to trust me on something sometime—might as well be my name. I was born in Reno, Nevada. That's what my orphanage paperwork says anyway. I joined the Army at 17—EOD—got out at 24. Used my G.I. bill and training to land a job doing building assessments for a small firm; now I do freelance work." James thought it was kind of eerie how legitimate his job sounded—despite not lying, he knew the picture he painted wasn't exactly accurate.

"How long are you in town for?"

"Well, it's freelance, like I said. So as long as I want—but I go where the work takes me... maybe another few weeks."

"Do you think we could make this a thing?" Sandi asked, turning to look at James.

He returned her gaze, "Isn't it already a thing?"

Sandi smiled and laid her head on his chest. The movie's final scene was nearly over; people would be filing out soon.

"My parents would be pissed if they knew what I just did."

"Speaking of... are you on—"

"Yes, I'm on birth control." Sandi cut him off.

"Whew," James laughed.

"Yes, 'whew' indeed. That was quite a load."

"There's more where that came from. Maybe tomorrow?"

"I can't tomorrow. I'll text you though."

And with that the pair kissed one last time and did their best to redress. Both of their sets of wrinkled, wet clothes emanated sex; after a few minutes of fidgeting they got close enough to be presentable.

"Night, Sandi," James called as he left.

"Night Mr. Shoals," she called back.

"Don't say that, I sound so old!" James leaned back in and gave Sandi a small peck on the lips—a small peck that she turned into a delightful French kiss.

"Seeya." Sandi whispered as James pulled back and walked to his car.

James drove back to his house and parked in the garage. It was about 3 a.m. and he'd need to be up and ready to roll by 7—long day ahead. He stripped down naked and put on a clean pair of boxers before heading up to bed. Before he knew it, his alarm was sounding and he was headed back down stairs. He stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a protein bar and milk, then proceeded into the basement.

James unlocked the security doors at the top and bottom on the stairs and flipped the switch on. The fluorescent lights came to life and shone down on endless rows of metal racks. James walked to his workbench—past his electronics, ammunition, MREs, tactical gear, explosives, computers, assault rifles, climbing rope and countless other supplies, all neatly arranged and cataloged.

He spent the next couple of hours outfitting some choice equipment into specially designed cases. Chief among his kit was a FN SCAR carbine and silencer that he hadn't planned on bringing. Something didn't quite sit right with him about his excursion into the bunker. The bustling sound of men at work echoing though the tunnels and the lack of guards in the mall seemed fishy. He was probably being overly cautious and paranoid—but a wise man once told him, "There's no such thing as paranoid in this business."

James tasked one of his computers to begin searching for any information on the Hispanic security guard. He started with the mall's own employee files and quickly got a name—Carmen Valencia—along with other vital statistics—age, social, employment history, etc.

"Well, this should be interesting," James thought out loud as he read her file and readied the last of his gear.