Changing Room Ruse

Jenny: Oh! Uh ... it's ... well, I know they keep it warmer in the changing rooms than the rest of the store—and I can understand that—but it gets to me after a while, you know? I'm just ... just overheated, that's all!

Maggie: You sure? He's not ... not ... hurting you ... or something, is he?

Jenny: Oh, of course not. He's being a perfect gentlemen. I appreciate your concern, Maggie, but I'm fine. Now, let me go get the right size, so I can ... [voice fades as they walk away].

My Jen. I like her. She can think on her feet. And she's very forgiving. She just exonerated me to save her own skin. When she walked out, I was thinking it would be a good time to make a fast exit ... I could just be gone when she returned. Now, though, she couldn't very well come back and accuse me of misbehavior if she'd already told her friend I was a "perfect gentleman." In a flash of inspiration, it occurred to me I could think of a better use for her black satin panties.

I prepared fast because I didn't know how much time I had.

When I heard the girls' voices approaching again, I was ready [or almost ready, in another sense, as you'll find out if you keep reading]. I heard Jennifer's hand on the doorknob, but she paused and must have turned toward the front counter.

"This time we're definitely almost done. I've got the right size now, so it should be just a few more minutes."

Then Jen turned the knob and stepped in with the final pair of pants. She gasped when she saw me.

The reason she reacted like that was because I was naked again—positioned in profile (plus at some bonus angles, thanks to the mirrors)—and I was stroking myself with her panties. But my Jennifer, ever the resilient one, recovered quickly.

She cleared her throat. "I see you found my panties," she said, looking at me like a mother might look at her child when she catches him with his hand in the cookie jar. Then she shifted gears. "But, um, I hate to tell you this," she said, starting serious, but then cracking that little twisted smile, "they're not a good color on you."

I had to smile in return. "Oh, Jen," I answered, while continuing to stroke, "all our interaction tonight has got me pretty worked up, and I just need to, you know, take the edge off." I was already pretty close to that edge. The satin felt phenomenal on my shaft.

"And is this for, like, my entertainment?" she asked, with raised eyebrows. "Or are you doing it for my continuing education?" She wasn't angry, but I think she wondered if I was really going to do what it looked like I was going to do.

I kept stroking, getting closer to my own precipice. "Jen, I want you to ... to know," I said, looking at her face, though she wasn't looking at mine, but was focused on the moving hand inside her panties, "I was being sincere about how helpful you have been, and I was honest with you about how to please your boyfriend, ... how much I like your tattoo, how beautiful your pussy is, and ... and how great it ... it tastes." I was really jacking now, just about to blow.

As you know, my Jen had surprised me several times during this changing room encounter, but she had one more surprise up her sleeve (even though her dress didn't actually have any). Suddenly, she dropped the pants she was carrying and knelt down in front of me. Startled, I stopped stroking, and when I did, she reached up and pulled the panties off my shaft, then replaced them with her warm, wet mouth.

That was all it took to push me over the edge. "Oh, Jen! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!!" I was the one gasping now, but using her words. I starting pumping my load into her mouth and my blonde princess held on. [I noticed she was using her tongue just as I taught her; it was a proud moment in my teaching career.] Four or five spurts later I was spent but shuddering, it felt so good. Without relinquishing my cock from her mouth, Jenny's pretty face looked up at me, then her eyes held mine as she slowed pulled her head back, closed her lips ... and swallowed.

Had I been able to think at all at that moment, I would have liked to have said something worth writing. All that came out of my mouth—delivered quietly, almost reverently—was "Wow."

"Someone told me once," Jen said softly, once her mouth was empty, "that in some situations, you just have to wrap your lips around and swallow so there's no mess you might have to explain."

I nodded and managed a weak smile to acknowledge I understood what a good student she was. Everything about me felt weak right then, and I was grateful I had a wall to lean up against.

Jennifer got back to her feet, rescued panties in hand. She gave me a subtle smile. "Um ... about the coffee I dumped on you?" she said, then used that hand to tuck her hair behind her ear (yes, again), after which she winked at me for the last time that night. "Now we're even."

Then my sexy assistant—no doubt with the taste of my semen still in her mouth—abruptly switched back to sales associate mode. "Okay, then," she said brightly, "when you decide which pair you'd like to buy for the wedding, I'll meet you at the checkout, okay?"

She stepped out and was gone, leaving me to get dressed—and otherwise recover—by myself.

-----

Several minutes later, when I emerged from the changing room, back in control of myself, Jennifer and Maggie were both at the checkout counter. It wasn't in my original plan, but I just had to buy a pair of pants under the circumstances. My conscience wouldn't let me do otherwise. I didn't have a wedding to attend this weekend, but no doubt I'd need a pair for something sometime.

The redhead Maggie greeted me with a cheerful smile. "So, were you able to find something you liked in there?" [She had no idea how much I liked what I found in there.]

"Yep, success!" I said, smiling. I was definitely not lying this time.

I handed her my selection, and Maggie rang it up while Jennifer put it in a bag for me. Before I walked away [a very happy man, as you might imagine], I looked my Jen in the eye and said, "I can't thank you enough for your helpfulness, Jennifer. You're the best!"

She just smiled pleasantly in return.

-----

Back in my dorm room, I flopped back on the bed in about the same position I was in when I hatched this crazy plan. Once again my eyes fell on the pile of ankle wrap in the bottom of my roommate's closet. I smiled. I have a new appreciation for it now.

I opened the bag and took out my newly purchased pants, then reached back in for the receipt. My hand—now liberated from its tan cocoon—felt something unexpectedly soft. There with the receipt was a dainty pair of French cut, black satin panties, trimmed in lace.

[I have it from an informed source that they're not my color. That's okay. They're not for wearing ... they're for remembering. Or ... maybe they are an invitation for a return trip?]

Yes, as I said, it turned out to be a memorable evening.