A Liaison - Dressing Room

It's a hot and lazy Sunday, and I decide the best thing to do to stay cool is to go shopping. I'm headed to the mall when you text me:

—What are you doing?

—Headed to the mall.

—Lol...shopping again??

—Shut up. There's a sale.

I can actually hear you in my head laughing out loud, and when you ask me about the store and designer's sale, I answer sarcastically, giving you the finger verbally as you tease me about my clothes and shoes habit. Then I immerse myself in air conditioning and the pleasure of spending money for an hour. I'm in the dressing room when I get your next text:

—Trying stuff on?

—Yes. A cute little suit that I'll look delicious in, and you'll drool...lol

—Skirt?

—Yes.

There's a long pause, then:

—Take off your panties.

I laugh out loud. Literally laugh out loud. Then the phone rings, and I look down to see you're calling.

You're crazy—I say as answer, laughing. But instead of laughing back at me, you repeat it, in that growly sexy voice that gets me hot every time.

Take off your panties—you say, and—just like that—I start to get wet. Are you taking off your panties?—you ask me, and, god help me, I put my hand under my skirt and pull my panties down. Once they're down and discarded on the floor, I sit on the hard bench in the dressing room, my hand already lightly stroking the soft skin of my inner thigh.

I am—I tell you, and you make that growly satisfied sound. I close my eyes and imagine what that would feel like against my throat right now, and my pussy becomes drenched.

Rub your clit—you tell me, and I lightly flick my clit with my finger, as I sit sprawled on the bench in this department store dressing room like a broken doll, my legs spread, my hand between my thighs, dressed in a thousand-dollar suit. I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling.

How does that feel, baby?—you ask me, and I tell you—it feels so good, I breathe quietly.

Louder—you say. There are people all around—I whisper frantically, but I note I don't stop touching myself.

What are you?—you demand, and I know what you want.

Your slut—I respond, and just saying the words makes my pussy clench in reaction.

You'll do what I say, won't you?—you growl at me, and I know I will. I refuse to say it though, but again, I haven't stopped touching myself.

Put a finger in your cunt—you tell me, and your slut follows your direction, sliding my index finger inside myself. My eyes are closed, but I can hear women walking past, talking about the fit of that dress, the shoes they'll need to buy, the last five pounds they need to lose.

Another finger—you say, and I know that you know that I'm willing to play the obedient slut at the moment. The second finger fills me up more, and I feel my pussy begin to throb, clenching around the two fingers I have inside me. I am panting, so close to cumming, and you know it. I open my eyes and see myself in the mirror, slumped on the bench, legs askew, the unmistakable look of slumberous sex all over my face.

Cum, slut—you say tightly, and I know you're just as excited as I am at this moment, and my orgasm crashes over me as I watch myself shiver and shake, trying to contain my moans and my panting breaths. You give me a moment to recover, and then you say—Come out to the big mirror—and I'm speechless.

Come out to the big mirror, slut—you repeat, and I'm shocked into moving, pulling my skirt down over my naked ass. I leave the dressing room and come around the corner to the three-way mirror, and there you are, phone to your ear. For a moment, we stand there, our smartphones pressed to our faces, then you drop your hand and end the call.

You step forward next to me, and slide an arm around me.

You're right—you say—I like that suit. So conservative and proper and sexy. And my slut underneath.

I raise my face up and try to look as haughty as I can with my hair messy and my pussy still throbbing.

Take me to your dressing room—you say, and I begin to smile. We look around a bit but no one's watching as we duck into my dressing room, stepping over the scattered detritus of my interrupted shopping trip.

Once inside, you capture my face in your hands and kiss me as if you're going to drain every drop of me, then you begin to fuck my mouth with your tongue, and I let you in, my hands sliding down over your shoulders and back, sliding and fondling, and then gripping your ass through your jeans. Your mouth slides down to my neck and I open my eyes, watching in the wall mirror as you lick and nibble my throat. Watching you devour me turns me on like I never imagined I would be—like I'm watching you with someone else. I can see your hands sliding down my sides, first squeezing my full heavy tits, then down to my hips, pulling me into you so I can feel your big cock, hard and throbbing behind the fly of your jeans, then around to squeeze my ass. You slide the skirt of the suit up, up, up my thighs, and when you find I still have no panties on, you groan into my skin.

You finally realize that my attention is focused somewhere else, and turn your head to watch in the mirror as your hands grip my bare ass. We're both panting, excited and throbbing, as we hear women outside the dressing room, its shared ceiling carrying sound right across.

Suddenly I hear the saleswoman just outside the door: You doing okay in there?—she asks and rattles the locked door handle, and I struggle to choke out that yes, I'm doing fine. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, but you don't give me the chance, your mouth finding mine again, and I forget all about her as you plunder my mouth with yours. Then you turn my head back to watch the mirror and bury your head in my neck to bite me. The feel of your teeth on me makes me shiver and want to moan—loudly.

You turn me around to face the bench, my hands flat on the wall in front of me. You use your foot to nudge my feet farther apart, and I watch as you pull the skirt to my waist. I expect you to unbutton your fly, but you kneel down behind me, and I watch in the mirror as you begin to lick me, your head between the twin globes of my ass, feeling your tongue dart between my pussy lips to flick my clit, then slide back and up, the flat of your tongue swiping my pussy on its way to pierce my ass. I gasp in reaction, then bend over farther, my stance widening as I invite you in.

And you accept, your hands reaching up to pull my ass cheeks apart, as you lick me top to bottom, then one hand leaving to unbutton your jeans. When you stand, I am braced against the wall, breathing in short, excited pants I'm trying to stifle. You thrust hard into my cunt, and I cum on your cock, a short quiet moan escaping. You lean over me, your head close to mine., our breathing practically in time as we listen to the voices of people only feet away, separated only by a thin wall.

Better be quiet, slut—you breathe in my ear as I bite back a moan, and then you say—Watch us—and I turn my head and open my eyes, and we're both watching as you fuck me, hunched over me, your hands on my tits, squeezing and pulling me back into you. I can see flashes of your cock as you pull all the way out, then slide back in, over and over again, and I know you're watching your cock disappear into my cunt in the mirror, and we are both overwhelmed at the sight.

I push back from the wall into you, and we are both on tiptoes as you pound my cunt with your cock, faster and faster, harder and harder. I feel another orgasm approaching, and I start to close my eyes, but you growl at me and tell me—Keep them open, watch us—and I can't look away as I cum first, shuddering and shaking, then watch you cum inside my pussy from behind, your hips pistoning into me, and my cunt clenching and milking you all the way.

Your thrusts slow, but I can feel you still hard and full in my cunt, and I wonder how we'll ever get out of here...