Bimbette's Valentine Fashion ShowbyJackson Blacke©
Bimbette decided it would be a good time to neaten the widow display at Samantha's Sexy Slut Salon. It was an hour before closing on Friday, February 13th, a doubly bad day for her. Friday the thirteenth is intimidating for most people, of course. But it was also the day before Valentine's Day, which was especially depressing for Bimbette.
The reason was that no one had ever asked her to be their valentine, at least not since grade school. Her sex life was, to say the least, active. With her big, firm, perfectly round breasts sitting proud and high, her long, shapely legs, her huge, blue eyes and high cheek bones, she was the sexiest thing that most men had ever seen in person. And she loved to flaunt it. She always dressed to show off her perfect body. Wherever she went, boners sprouted like flowers in the spring. Men couldn't take their eyes off of her, and she couldn't keep her hands off of them.
Despite her enormous appetite for the carnal side of love, she had a deep desire to experience the romantic side, too. Most men, however, don't think about total sluts, like Bimbette, in a romantic way. So, they lusted after her, but they didn't really fall in love with her, or ask her to go steady, or propose to her.
Not that Bimbette would have accepted any of those invitations. She deliberately avoided or pushed away the few men who did become romantically interested in her. There was no way any one man could satisfy her sexually, and besides, she was having too much fun gorging herself at the all-you-can-eat sexual smorgasbord to tie herself down like that. But it would have been nice to be asked. And it would have been especially nice to be somebody's valentine.
So, every year, Bimbette grew more and more depressed the closer it got to Valentine's Day. The actual day was the worst day of the year, but the day before was pretty damn bad, too.
The store had, of course, been busy that day, but it was open late that night and now the place was empty. So, as she climbed into the display window to dust the busty, lingerie-clad mannequins, she scanned the nearly deserted corridor of the shopping mall, looking for someone or something to lift her spirits. Turned out, it wasn't hard to find.
Directly across from the store, lounging against the low fence that separated the hallway from the food court, was a group of eight guys, mostly good looking and mostly in their mid to late 20s. A couple of them noticed her right away and nudged the others. Before long, all eight of them were staring into the store window, watching her every move. Her clit began to tingle and her big nipples stiffened quickly.
She gave them a little smile and made sure to put on a good show. Every time she moved, she gave her hips a little twist to spin and lift her tiny, pleated skirt, giving the boys a peek at her sheer, lacy thong. She had recently bleached her long, and formerly red, hair to a honey blonde and tossed it coquettishly as she stretched high to dust the track lighting, which raised the bottom of her cropped t-shirt high enough expose the lower half of her lovely breasts.
Then, when she figured she had their undivided attention, she walked up to the window and pressed her hands, then her breasts and, finally, her lips against the glass. Then she pushed back from the window, leaving a bright pink lipstick kiss on the glass, winked and went back into the store to wait.
It was a small store, and she was the only one on duty. Within a matter of seconds the best looking guy of the group, a tall, muscular blonde, came in and walked over to Bimbette, who was sitting, legs crossed, on the sales counter.
"Love the color of your lipstick," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Dick."
"I can see that," she cooed, glancing at the impressive bulge in his pants, then taking his hand gently. "But what's your name, Honey?"
"That is my name," he answered with a grin. My name is Dick."
Bimbette already knew that, of course, but she giggled and acted embarrassed.
I'm Bimbette. What can I do for you,...Dick?" she asked, cocking her head coyly, without releasing his hand.
"Well, me and my friends are hanging around out there," he began, nodding toward the front door without breaking eye contact with her. "And we're having a hell of time picking out Valentine's Day presents for our girlfriends, and we're looking at your store and thinking you must have lots of good stuff here." He paused and gave her a hand a little squeeze. "But we don't know anything about buying girls' stuff." He paused again to place his hand on her knee and smile a cute and rueful little smile. "And we thought maybe you could help us pick some things out."
Bimbette returned his smile. If she couldn't celebrate Valentine's Day herself, she could at least help make it special for some other girls. And she might manage to get herself fucked a few times in the process. Her dirty little mind was beginning to imagine some very attractive possibilities. But even she couldn't feel right about stealing these boys away from their girlfriends the day before Valentine's Day.
"And how does your girl feel about you holding hands with other girls?" she asked.
"Oh, she doesn't mind," he answered, his smile broadening. "We don't have a real exclusive relationship. We haven't talked about it, but I'm pretty sure she hooks up with other guys on a fairly casual basis."
Bimbette made a show of uncrossing her legs. She left them widely apart so that he was standing between them. She could see that the other seven men had come across the corridor and were watching her and Dick through the big window.
"And what about your shy friends?" she asked. "What kind of relationships do they have with their girls?"
"Pretty much the same from what they tell me," he said quietly, stepping forward. He dropped her hand and softly gripped the back of her neck, while sliding the other arm around her slim waist. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers.
She kissed him for a moment, massaging his lips with hers, nibbling gently on them, then slipping her tongue teasingly into his mouth. "Not here," she murmured as she pulled back, just a little. She smiled over his shoulder at their audience and dropped gracefully off the counter to the floor.
"Over here," she said grabbing his hand and pulling him toward an opening in the wall which led to the fitting area and inventory storage. "If you and your friends come back a little after closing time, I think I may be able to help you out. But, in the meantime, I need a little something to tide me over. And maybe...," she paused to glance at the now obscene swelling in his tight pants, "You do, too."
She dragged him just far enough into the back room that they could no longer be seen from outside the store, but she could still see most of the inside, in case a customer came in. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers to resume their passionate kiss. With her other hand, she quickly pulled down his zipper and reached into his pants. His big cock was already fully erect.
She released her grip on his head to grab his wrist and guide his hand into her panties, where he easily found her huge, hard clit. He held it between his fingers and gently squeezed. She gasped with sudden pleasure. Not needing any further invitation, he began to nibble her rigid nipples, right through the thin fabric of her top. Meanwhile, his other hand slid between the cheeks of her round, taut ass and discovered her sensitive little sphincter. She gasped again, louder this time as he tantalized her by tracing its circular outline lightly with his finger. She thrust her butt back, trying to impale herself on his finger, but he simply allowed his hand to move back with her hips.
Bimbette groaned sweetly and bent over to worship his aching erection with her mouth. She licked him from the base of the shaft to the top, then circumnavigated the bloated head with her tongue. He quivered with excitement.
A couple of the other men had come into the store and were watching quietly but eagerly from the far side of the counter.
"Please stick your finger up my ass," she moaned, "And let's do this fast before your friends start charging admission."
She took him into her mouth and sucked a little. He held her clit firmly between his thumb and first two fingers and slowly fondled it. The middle finger of his other hand pressed against her delicate ass hole. As he carefully pushed it in to the first knuckle, she stiffened in pre-orgasmic pleasure, and reached down to grab the wrist of the hand he was using on her clit, as if there were a serious possibility that he might withdraw it from her panties and leave her unsatisfied.
He shoved his finger in as far as the second knuckle. She smoothly took him into her throat, swallowing him to the balls, and began to tug urgently on his wrist, forcing him to stroke her clit faster and harder.
He stuck his finger all the way up her ass and closed his eyes to concentrate on the approaching ecstasy. She let him slide out of her throat and grabbed the base of his boner tightly with her hand, sucking hard on the top while she pumped away at the lower half. Within seconds however, she had to stop sucking briefly to allow a small cry of joy to escape around his muffling cock as her body bucked and spasmed with orgasm.
His knees went weak and he leaned back against the wall for support as he stabbed her asshole repeatedly with his finger and began to gush a Niagara of hot, thick cum into her sperm-thirsty mouth. She resumed sucking greedily and swallowed every drop except the last few spurts, which she allowed to pool in her mouth.
When they were at last done, she straightened up, steadied herself and stepped out into the store. By now, all the other men, except one, had come into the store to get a better look at what was going on. She turned to them and allowed the cum in her mouth to ooze out between her lips, dribble down and dangle in a single long, thick, milky strand from her chin. Several of them began to move around the counter, toward her.
"Not now, you sweet boys," she said with obvious reluctance. "Gotta work. Come back in an hour. I'll help you with your shopping problems then, and I have an idea for a way to have a little fun with it. Bring a major credit card and lots of cash." She blew a sticky kiss to the guy whose nose was pressed against the display window, and the other seven left the store. "Lots of cash," she repeated as they went out.
But they didn't go far. All eight of them waited in the food court across from the store, craning their necks and constantly trying to get a glimpse of Bimbette. They took turns going to the ATM, but mostly they were just watching.
It was pretty hard on Bimbette, too. She could see them out there. She knew what they were hoping for, and to her, knowing that a guy desperately needed to fuck her was the ultimate aphrodisiac. And at that point, there were eight men, at least seven of whom were as stiff as the stock at the local lumber yard, just watching her, waiting their chance. And that knowledge was driving her crazy with desire. She was trying to work out the details of her plan, but it was hard to concentrate. Her hand kept wandering into her moist panties to say hello to her throbbing clit.
But she couldn't keep herself from encouraging them either. She would find excuses to climb up into the display window, to straighten something that wasn't crooked, or clean a nonexistent spot on the glass. And, while there, she would smile provocatively at her new friends, show them the tip of her tongue or lean over to pick up an imaginary piece of trash and show off her essentially bare ass.
Between trips to the window, she would go into the back room to set things up for the after-hours session she was planning. She needed more seats, so she called Billy, a guy she knew in the mall's maintenance department who owed her a few dozen favors, and asked him to bring four folding chairs around to the store's delivery entrance.
When the P.A. system announced that the mall was closing in five minutes, she beckoned to the waiting men, then hung the "closed" sign. She didn't have to invite them twice. When they were all inside, she locked the door behind them. They gathered around her and began to introduce themselves.
"I'm Jason. Nice to meet you."
"How are you? My name is Justin Stillman."
Shit, thought Bimbette, Shit, shit, shit, and a shiver ran down her spine. That name! It had a nasty effect on her lately. The previous spring she had met a guy named Justin. She had really liked him, really, really liked him. She couldn't use the word "love", because it would hurt even more if she did. By May they were living together, and although they never talked about an exclusive relationship, they were having one.
In June, he took her to her high school class' fifth reunion. They decorated the gym and set it up like a classic school dance, complete with crepe paper and spiked fruit punch. And predictably, before the night was half over, Bimbette was back in the boys' locker room, fucking most of the football team…again.
Justin was furious. He accused her of not giving him the "commitment" he needed, whatever that meant. They both said some very nasty and hurtful things, and she asked him to move out. He did, but began stalking her. She had to move twice to lose him.
She decided to pretend that Justin Stillman's name was Jake, or Jack, or Jerry - anything but Justin.
Dick was standing in front of her, trying to get her attention. "Hi, hell-lo, it's me, Dick. I'm back," he said. "Are you here?"
And just as quickly as one name had plunged her into painful memories, another brought her back to the pleasure of meeting so many new boyfriends. "My favorite customer," she smiled and pecked him on the cheek.
"Haven't bought anything yet," he protested.
"You will," she replied.
"Well, I have to say I approve of your sales technique," he grinned.
"And it sure looks like you've hit your target demographic right on the head," added Jason.
As the rest of the men introduced themselves, one by one, she shook their hands or gave a little wave and smiled, making eye contact with each. So many good-looking men! Her rigid nipples tent-poled the fabric of her tight little t-shirt and her hard clit was beginning to throb in time with her quickening pulse.
"Tom LaTour, here."
"Hi, I'm Shawn."
Bimbette wasn't great with names and knew she wouldn't remember most of them.
"How ya doing? My name's Sam. The girls call me 'Sam the Ram', 'cuz I make them say 'Wham, Bam, Thank you, Sam'!"
Bimbette laughed as a round of jeers and other rude noises echoed through the small store.
"Gee, that's not what Tabitha McNulty says," frowned Tom in feigned confusion.
"Oh, yeah? What's 'Ten Dollar Tabby' say?" Sam unwisely challenged.
"That you want the girls to call you 'Sam the Ram', but that they all actually call you 'Sam the Sham' instead, because you talk big, but can't deliver."
The boys broke down in hysterics and Bimbette laughed, too.
"And," Tom continued when the laughter died down, "That what they really end up saying is, 'Wham, bam, still need a man'!" The laughter, of course, reignited immediately.
Bimbette decided that she was beginning to like some of these guys.
There was one more who hadn't introduced himself yet. "M-my name is D-dick," he stuttered. He was the one who had stayed outside the shop earlier.
"Wait a minute," Bimbette responded. "Another Dick?"
"Yeah, two Dicks – No waiting," called out the first Dick.
The other seven groaned and made a variety of comments, all to the effect that they had heard that joke far too many times and had never really thought it was all that funny anyway. The first Dick cringed and covered his head with his arms in a protective gesture.
"Well, I'll just have to call you 'Dick One' and 'Dick Two'," Bimbette said with a grin. "A girl can never have too many dicks." Her pussy was so wet, she could feel its juice drooling down her inner thighs.
"You may change your mind once you get to know these particular Dicks better," said Jason.
"Actually, they call me 'Magic Dick'," said the first Dick, the one who had so skillfully fingered her to orgasm an hour before, "Because of what I can do for a girl in bed, and also I'm a big fan of an old rock group - the J. Geils Band. They had an incredible harmonica player named 'Magic Dick'."
"That's not why I call you 'Magic Dick'," interrupted Shawn.
"Okay, I'll bite. Why do you call me 'Magic Dick'?" asked Magic Dick.
"Because it would take some kind of magic for you to get your dick into anything female that wasn't tied down or deceased," answered Shawn.
"So which does that make me?" asked Bimbette.
"It makes you m-magic, p-pure magic," said the other Dick, quietly.
"Ooooh, you're so sweet," said Bimbette. "Do you have any special nickname, other than 'Dick Two'?"
"We call him 'Shy Dick'…. for obvious reasons," answered Harry.
Shy Dick was too busy studying the toes of his shoes to comment.
By now, the men were beginning to close in around Bimbette, the unsubtle bulges in their trousers and the awkward way they shifted their weight giving away their stiff excitement.
Much as she shared their urgent hunger and longed to rip their pants off and fuck them all on the spot, she also sincerely wanted to help them find nice presents for their girlfriends. At least that way, someone would enjoy Valentine's Day. And she knew that without a little organization, and without a whole lot of restraint, that would never happen. So she decided this would be good time to explain the rules.
"Okay guys," she announced, raising her arms in the air like a cop trying to stop traffic. "Back off a little and listen up. Here's what we're going to do. The main point of tonight's proceedings is to try to help you pick out Valentine's Day presents for your girls, ones that you both will like, and to ensure that your sweeties have a memorable day."
"What are you doing for Valentine's Day?" asked Justin. "Got a date?"
"Actually," answered Bimbette quickly, "I'm way too busy to get all romantic about it. I'm working the 4:00 to 8:00 shift, and then I'll probably go out and pick up a few guys, get laid, you know, the usual. There's nothing special about Valentine's Day for me. Every day is Valentine's Day as far as I'm concerned. But I don't get all sentimental about it. 'Fuck me, then get the fuck out of my life,' I always say."
" Yeah, 'Bah, humbug'," said Magic Dick quietly.
Bimbette looked at him sharply, but quickly returned to business. "I've set up the back room for a little fashion show," she explained. "And I've picked out some moderately-priced outfits and accessories that I think your girlfriends might like. I know you'll like them, too.
"One by one, I'll model them and we'll auction them off. Minimum bid is the regular retail price of the items. High bidder gets the outfit for the price he bid. The store gets the marked price, which you can pay with a credit card, if you want. And anything extra gets paid in cash and goes into a kitty which, at the end of the auction, you will split evenly, eight ways. That money must be spent on taking your girl out tomorrow night, to dinner, dancing, the movies, a show, something like that. My sales commission will go into the kitty, too. Nobody leaves until he's bought something.
"Oh, and the winning bidder for each outfit will get a special thank-you from me. Any questions?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "What kind of 'special thank-you'?"
"Well, let's just see what develops," she answered with a wink.