Born to Shop
I drive, which leaves J free to indulge in a little finger play. One hand caresses the back of my neck, while he slowly walks his fingers up my thigh. I set the cruise control so I can spread my legs. He caresses my mons through the thin cotton of my thong panties, then his fingers slide deftly under the elastic to tickle my clit and probe my moist depths. I grip the wheel and struggle to focus on the traffic; his hand teases a moment more before he removes it. He laughs wickedly; I take my eyes off the road long enough to see him suck his finger clean of my juices.
At a trendy eatery in the mall, we sit close in a booth while we share a platter of chilled and raw seafood, washed down with icy glasses of beer. I load an oyster with cocktail sauce and lots of horseradish, making my eyes water as the slippery bivalve glides sensuously down my throat. As his hands are busy again between my thighs, I feed J a large prawn, then kiss the bit of spicy sauce from his lips. Somehow we manage to finish our meal without getting arrested, though our waitress gives us a disapproving look as she picks up our money. J makes sure she sees his hand squeeze my ass as we leave the cafe.
I love to shop without a plan, and we leisurely peruse the various wares the vendors have to offer. At Pottery Barn, I find a perfect gift for a friend's birthday; J flirts with the saleswoman as she wraps my purchase. Then it's my turn at Sharper Image, as the clean-cut college boy extols the virtues of the massaging lounger. The chair's vibrations cause a delicious tingle and I tell him as much, watching his ears turn red as he stammers out the price. I promise to think about it and ask for his card, letting my fingers linger on his just a second longer than necessary. J smacks me on the butt as we leave the store; I give him a wide-eyed "what'd I do" look.
We wander into Nordstrom's, that monument to American excess. I love Nordie's; they treat everyone like a celebrity. We stroll past a multitude of Italian shoes and hand-painted ties with no real destination in mind; we end up in ladies' lingerie. Now J's not a big fan of anything that increases the time before flesh can meet flesh. I sometimes think he'd feel right at home on the "Star Trek" world of Ferenginor, where the males don't allow their women to wear any clothes around the house. I on the other hand sometimes like the feel of a silky slip or barely-there camisole.
I run my fingers over a selection of chemises, enjoying the fairy-web softness of the fabric. J surprises me by pulling a sheer black number off the rack and holding it in front of me.
"I'd like to see you in this," he says, smoothing the fabric over my breasts. I sneak a peak at the tag: $125.
"Oh, OK - I'll just whip out my Visa Platinum. See anything else you like?" I pick up a lacy pink demi-bra with matching panties; the label touts the designer, Christian Dior. "How 'bout this?"
"I like this one better," he replies, handing me a red one. "I think it'll bring out the green in your eyes.
I'm astonished! "You're serious! Did you win the lottery and not tell me?"
"I didn't say we should buy them. I'd just like to see you in them." The devilish gleam in his brown eyes signals trouble.
I look around doubtfully. The department isn't overly busy, but it isn't deserted either. "I don't know, they probably won't let you into the dressing room."
"Let me worry about that. What else would be good on you?" He picks out another chemise, this one a deep green satin, and a ridiculous zebra-striped bra. "Hang this on the door so I'll know where you are. Put the green one on first."
I head for the dressing room, where a pleasant-face grandma type introduces herself as Margaret and leads me down a short hall. She unlocks the door and hangs my selections inside, then points out a button near the door. "Just buzz if you need a different size."
I look around the room, it's spacious compared with some. A large mirror shows three sides of me as I hang my purse on an ornate brass hook. l don't see an obvious camera, so I open the door and hang the zebra bra on the outside hook. I say to myself, "Well, worst they can do is throw us out, " and I unzip my dress and step out of it. The dress gets draped over a pink padded chair, followed by my strapless bra. I slide the green satin over my head, the hem settles just below my crotch, concealing my white cotton panty. I smooth the fabric over my hips and hear a faint tap on the door. I barely turn the knob before the door is snatched from my hand and J quickly steps in. I start to say something, but he puts his finger on my lips and nods his head toward the door.
Margaret's voice is barely muffled by the door as she lets another customer into a room. A little shiver of fear travels up my spine when her tap sounds on my door.
"Do you need another size in this?" I experience a brief panic before I realize she's talking about the zebra bra.
"Uh, that one's a no," I manage to choke out. J's shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, and I shoot him a glare. "I think I'm OK."
"Alright then, call if you need something. I'll be right outside." We hear her click some hangers together as she takes some discards out of the other rooms. I can hear the rustle as the other woman starts trying on her choices.
"Now what?" I whisper. J sits in the chair and motions for me to step back. I stand in front of the mirror, then do a slow pirouette. He smiles appreciatively, then takes my hand and pulls me over to stand between his knees.
He runs his hands up my belly to my breasts, his fingers gliding over the smooth fabric. The excitement has my nipples standing at attention, poking stiffly against the bodice of the gown. He tweaks them gently with his fingers, then pulls my head down to kiss me.
"OK, now the bra," he whispers against my lips. I figure, what the hell, I'm in this thing now, so I turn around and sit on his lap. He rests his hands lightly on my hips as I slowly slip first one strap, then the other, off my shoulders. I stand up and face the mirror, letting the fabric catch on my rigid nipples before giving a tug that causes a shimmer of green satin to fall at my feet. I can see his eyes watching me from the mirror. I pick up the chemise and hand it with its hanger to J, then unfasten the bra and put it on. I keep my back to him while I adjust the straps. He stands up and moves behind me, watching us both in the mirrors. "Here, let me help," he whispers. He reaches into the right cup, moving his hand under my breast and lifting it higher in the bra. His thumb moves over my nipple and lingers there for a moment before he adjusts the left side. "No, it's still not right." He turns me around, pulls the cups down to expose my nipples, then bends his head and tongues first one, then the other. He uses a little flicking motion, and I feel the tingle start in my pussy lips. I lean back in his arms, he starts to suck one while his hand plays with the other. He sucks harder, and I let out a tiny moan. I glance at the mirror and see he's watching too; I throw my head back as he licks and kisses his way up to my lips, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as his hand entwines in my hair.
A door slamming brings my head up; the other customer is leaving her dressing room. "We'd better get moving, " I say, stepping away from him. "We're taking too long, she's going to come back."
"I want to see you in this one." J unfastens the red bra and slides his hands under it to caress my breasts before slipping it off my shoulders. He holds the black chemise up for me to put my arms into, then I raise them while he pulls it down over my head. It's so short and sheer, my white panties show plainly both through and below the fabric. "Take off your panties, I want the full effect."
I've got the thong half-way down my thighs when Margaret's voice causes me to freeze. "How are you doing in there?"
"I'm trying to decide between these two. I'll be out in a few minutes."
"Can I get you any others to try? " Sometimes excellent service is a nuisance!
"No, it's between these. I'm OK." J has unfastened his pants during this exchange and is showing me his beautiful cock, stroking it with his strong hand.
He waits until we hear Margaret leave, then whispers, "the panties." I slide them the rest of the way off, then stand to face him. The sheer black nylon hides nothing from his appreciative gaze. He pulls me close, then lifts the hem of the chemise. He runs a finger over the cleft between my legs; my pussy is dripping wet. I put one foot up on the chair next to him as he leans his face into me. He inhales my aroma, tickling the hairs, then slides his tongue up and over my clit. Normally I would savor the sensation of his eating me, the man is a cunnilinguistic genius. But the possibility of discovery has me so hot, I can't wait to get his cock into me, so I grab it and guide it in as I straddle him on the chair. He's as turned on as I am, and he grips my hips and starts pounding me up and down on his hard cock. I rotate my hips to increase the friction, then I see he isn't looking at me. I turn my head and meet his eyes in the mirror, my breasts under the sheer fabric bouncing with each thrust. We're turned sideways to the center mirror, and in one side mirror I see my face over his shoulder; the other shows his cock sliding in and out of me, glistening with my juices.
"My God, you look too fucking sexy," he breathes. "I can't wait, I'm going to come."
"No need to wait, so am I." I clench my pussy muscles to squeeze him tightly and grind my mouth on his, muffling both our moans as we come together.
We give ourselves about 15 seconds to recover before he pulls the chemise over my head. "Don't want to mess this up, we'd have to buy it." I stand up and start pulling on my clothes, then turn for him to zip my dress. He kisses the back of my neck and says, "you go out first."
I walk out to where Margaret is steaming a long gown. "Did you find anything that interests you?" I see her eyes take in my messy tousled hair and kiss-bruised mouth and think: she knows.
"I think I need to think about it some. Thanks so much." I turn to leave the department, then duck behind a rack of robes to wait for J.
I can't believe him! He strolls nonchalantly out of the dressing room holding the black chemise, hands it to Margaret and says, "I'll take this one. Can you gift wrap it for me?" He gives her that smile, the one that devastates me. She smiles back, takes his credit card, rings up the sale and wraps the chemise. Then she gives him her card and tells him to call before he comes in again and she would let him know about any sales!
I grab him as he comes past. "What are you going to do with that?" I ask.
"Oh, Mom's birthday is coming up." I give him a startled look before I see the grin, then I poke him in the ribs.
"OK, but next time we're checking out the silk boxer shorts."
God, I love to shop!
Copyrightã 1999 by Neanderfem
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