Shopping Day

I'm not a big shopper. I live in the city and downplay my country accent and upbringing. It's great to have a career here which is setting me up to freelance some day, but otherwise putting up with this place is tough. I think a lot about the high desert, the coyotes calling out in the morning, and that particular slant of light at sundown when the shadows get really long and the entire sky glows.

All of this doesn't stop me from meeting up for a day of shopping with a female friend and returning to her apartment for sex that blows both of our minds. Who knows why it worked out this way. That's life.

My preference is to use the typical online stores, or if I'm unhappy with what I find there, I'll hit up an army surplus store a few streets away from me. It's where I found a camouflage bucket hat I love, plus lots of jackets, boots, and other stuff. I'm a typical bear guy, and even as a gay dude, I just don't get much into my own fashion sense. I still have an interest in women's fashion for some reason, and this friend sometimes asks for my advice, so we go shopping together.

We get a lot of chances to do this regularly. It's always best in summertime when the atmosphere in the city streets makes for a fun experience. The other enjoyable thing about these shared outings is when we go back to her home and we fuck. It's hard, emotional sex, as we're both letting everything out. Neither of us seems to reach this level with other guys, but we get naked and it all clicks. We've talked about it. It's the sex we want to keep having, even if we're involved with other people, even if one or both of us gets married. We've got each other. Always.

I'm not a typical gay bestie for a girl, though. As a hairy, bearded guy, I do my best to look like I'm fun to be around. So I'll hit the gym on a Saturday morning after storing up a lot of cum for several days. She's going to need it. Then I shave my head at home, shower, and put on a nice button-up shirt, linen shorts, and canvas sneakers, plus a flat cap. I clean up all right, if I do say so myself. It's all coming off at her place, anyway.

The subway is steamy with heat. After dodging the usual annoyances, I emerge into one of Midtown's few major shopping areas to still be busy after the pandemic. It's full of tourists, but still a lot of fun, with Italian and Chinese restaurants, plus a great mix of mass-market, upmarket, and ethnic clothiers and home goods sellers. That's the nice thing about being a gay bear: you're still in tune with these finer points of life while everyone's afraid you're going to tackle them like a quarterback.

Upon arrival, I look around for a moment. There she is. How could I miss her? Sunglasses rest on the top of her head and her arm clasps the handle of a large purse. Her auburn hair is cut in a style both austere and elegant, just below shoulder length. I think she's using silicone products to get that shine in her hair, which I'm not the biggest fan of. I'm a pretty natural, raw kind of dude. I don't tell most people this, but I don't bother with soap in the shower unless I need to wash off lube. I exfoliate with microfiber washcloths and water. I only use water to brush my teeth with. My breath is kissable and I had no cavities at my last check up. With hookup partners, I get complimented all the time on how I smell. They're noticing me, my sebum, my clean sweat, my masculinity.

We joyfully greet each other with a close hug. We only do a bit of chatting online so our catching-up happens in person. She immediately says I look so handsome and I tell her she looks beautiful. I notice that she isn't wearing any makeup and I didn't notice a perfume scent when we hugged, and for a plethora of reasons, I'm already aroused. I can see and feel that touch of humidity from her sweat. We walk slowly to the first mall we want to hit up while relating how our jobs and lives have generally been. She's wearing a nice black piece subtly outlining all the body parts I've had my face and cock buried in. What sets everything off nicely is a red scarf I suggested to her because of my understanding of color theory. She keeps telling me how great it goes with everything in her wardrobe. I smile and blush a bit.

The interior of the mall is abuzz with security guards, more tourists, couples, families, and everyone else, it seems. The hot weather combines with the availability of air conditioning to make it busy with those escaping the heat and seeing all of the new anchor stores and boutiques. Eventually we are at the first destination. She says they're carrying a new line of form-fitting pieces she wanted to combine with some new jackets.

The visit to this ultra-modern shop is a blur of suggestions, discussions, and me getting up behind her as she's looking in the mirror trying on different combinations and giving my input. I advise her on color and pattern balancing and remind her of her color season over and over. I steer her past neons and pastels (no!) and she emerges with a beautiful set of navy, ruby, and steel-gray skirt and blouse combinations. Also included is a set of classic black and white Coco Chanel-style jackets.

It's while we're in the mirrored nook, me checking her out and getting just a bit close helping her button something, that the sensation hits me quite hard. The bend in her neck and the particular swell of her breast in her blouse combine with her wry smile. I stare ahead at the reflections. She stares at me, breathing slowly and deeply. The world is full of possibilities. I'm bricked.

Next up are shoes. These aren't what I'm best at, as I think you can go kind of crazy with them if you're a girl. I don't innovate much. My army surplus boots are mainly useful if I have to deal with the toxic, disgusting snow-trash-water mix we have here in the city in winter. I sit and pass judgment in a comfortable chair provided to guests at the shoe boutique. An array of heels, ballet flats, and classic leather pumps are paraded in front of me. She looks fine in all of them, but the heels stretch out her leg muscles to really accentuate her delicious ass. I tell her to get a good mix and then she can update her collection and not keep all the other weird pastel stuff she had before she met me. We get out of there quickly and she is happy with what she picked.

A line of other brief stops occur both within the mall and in a few other side streets. Nothing hits me as something she shouldn't live without, but I remain upbeat and patient, soldiering on through to get to the goal we both know we want to reach. Before we decide to head back, we stop in a classy sunglass shop and I give her more advice on what fits her face correctly. She picks out a pair from a respected Italian line and tells me to get myself something, too. I scan the racks and pick out a set of nice aviators. I don't believe in sunglasses because sunlight is good for your eyes and sunglasses make your eyes weak. As you can tell, some people might think I'm an odd guy.

She tells me I look hot as hell in them. I smile again and the sales lady agrees with her. She even asks if I'm her... well, she trails off, trying to not be too nosy, and I can tell it hurts a bit as she says I'm her friend. I decide against telling her later how it hurts me, too. But that's what our hot role play sessions are for. It's nice being a single gay dude and having a wife I only need to bother with once in a while.

I help carry some of her bags as we approach the train. She says it's time to get our feet up and relax and I agree, so off we head to her place in the boroughs. I like it there. The neighborhood is clean and quiet, and the classy walk-ups and brownstones have great curb appeal.

The subway ride is mercifully uneventful. We walk down the sunny, tree-lined street to her apartment, the entire day suffused with joy. It's not long before I'm resting on my back, propped up on my elbows on her bed, as she puts clothes into various drawers and moves other stuff to boxes while talking to me more about something going on with her family. She's getting physical therapy regularly. This other friend is going to some Buddhist thing somewhere. I'm continuing to watch her move. I like the elegant way she stoops down here and reaches up for something there. It's an exposition of her.

She smiles a bit sideways and lets out an adorable laugh. She removes her shoes and scarf and climbs right on me in a single, fluid, cat-like movement. She's become way less pretentious since she met me. She wears little or no perfume. She uses a tongue scraper. I notice her hair is actually natural now that I feel it with my hands as her face is close to mine. I thank her for not wearing makeup and she beams a happy expression again, telling me she appreciates all the video links I sent her about how makeup destroys a woman's delicate skin. She smells me again and we taste each other's pure, clean mouths. I'm gay, I swear, but the way this woman kisses is insane to me.

I roll on top of her. My hand is under her a bit, caressing her perky ass, feeling it under the tight black fabric. My lips cover hers as she is sucking on my tongue. She's undoing my shirt buttons and stops me from helping, soon running her hands up and down my chest and stomach hair, then through my back hair. I had told her once I'm never shaving it and I understand if it's not her thing. She said she liked finding bits of it on her bed after I had been there.

We're able to unzip and remove the tight dress easily enough. No underwear, no bra. She's continued to learn what I like. I slurp on her nipples like an ice cream cone, my wet mouth covering the whole nipple and teasing it. I take some of the slobber coming off her breast onto my finger and trace it gently over her clit and labia. The baking heat of her body is apparent to me being right up against her. A low moan escapes her throat.

More attention is paid to her mouth again. My shorts are pulled down a bit and already I'm thrusting against her cunt. There's this delightful layer of sweat on her shoulders and neck. In between kisses, I lap it up like an animal. I still don't understand what it is about her.

I get more spit onto my fingers and push my fingers in her mouth, too, reminding her this mouth is mine and so is everything else. She can slut around with those finance guys she knows for all I care, but I need to control her. She nods. I moisten up both my raging-hard dick and her dripping cunt, and then I guide it in. I'm more of a fan of eating her out after she's been fucked for a while. She always lubes up naturally well. It's awesome to just use the natural fluids our bodies produce to have sex, and after she's come several times, she will start making a creamy slop in her pussy that is superb for fucking, better than any lube I've ever bought in a store. It's like her body knows to keep me going inside of her. It's like she's meant for me.

We start to seriously rock the bed. The shared grunting fills the room. Her throw pillows are on the floor as are the rest of my clothes. The headboard doesn't bang against the wall but the wet slapping sound of my hips hitting hers makes up for it. I'm a solid half a foot taller than her and way heavier. I'm breaking a sweat now, too, getting my male oils and smell all the fuck over her. At one point she buries her face in my armpit and tells me she likes it, often thinking about it at work.

I think I'm hitting the right spot because her legs are clasped tightly around me, so I start moving in circles and she tilts her head back and lets out a deep, primal grunt as I eagerly cheer her on and keep going at it. The feelings on my cock are coming in rapid waves. Her pussy is a gallery of silky, wet curtains dancing on my throbbing rod. I love poking at the walls. I love aiming for the cervix and then going back to that spot I found. We're shoved back into the role play, a husband and wife after a weekend afternoon together, the summer, the city, the feelings she's having inside because of how I keep slamming in and out of her. I tell her she's my wife and I'm never letting her go. I'm in charge of this fucking marriage. She's going to have my kid. She cries out some more, telling me to get her pregnant. I like being leaned back a bit and watching what I'm doing to her.

Now it's time to switch to a cuddle-fuck position with my arms wrapped around her head and shoulders with her face buried next to my neck. There is a moment of poignant tenderness as I realize she is in such a submissive, trusting position. My dick is fucking, being fucked,and fucking back in response with absolutely no boundaries, no mercy or need for it. Each thrust produces a response of juice from her cunt to be used for more fucking. She's trapped. Her responses to the stimuli produce more stimuli. The air that usually surrounds her is replaced by my body.

I tell her I'm going to cum soon. She moans her approval. I then tell her this load of cum is natural fuck lube for even deeper penetration. She nods, telling me yes, she dreams about it. I tell her I want that creamy slop she produces after she cums a lot. Maybe it's my churned semen, maybe it's her ovaries and uterus finally rewarding me for my persistence, I don't know. I tell her I'm getting obsessed with it when I'm working out, lying in bed, in the office, wherever. She says she can feel herself starting to cum and she wants to start making it for me. Then her tongue is down my throat and she's gripping my shaved head and then my heaving, thrusting ass, and a combined moan/grunt/scream erupts in both my mouth and out into the air as she explodes in a mess of sweat and juices. Her vagina is a tunnel of passive, needy sexuality pleasuring my dick. She tells me she loves me and needs me. Within seconds I feel my own climax building, my balls ready to unleash days of semen. I can't hold back, either, telling her she fucking belongs to me, I'm seeding her cunt and making her have child after child, she's my slave, she's a piece of fuck-meat. My mind is gone for a moment. The amount of semen I'm depositing is so huge it's splattering out the sides of my dick and out her pussy.

She tells me she can feel it being spurted in, every single jet of it going in. I tell her each one is billions of me and every one of them is a piece of my love. My words really set her off. She's raising her legs up, maybe trying to get more cum into her. We agree nothing fucking matters about the past. This is too important and it feels too right. Her hot patina of sweat is back and I tell her how it makes me love her. She says it's happening again. More quaking within the folds of silky, slimy tissue in her cunt, and that fluid makes its appearance.

I stare into her eyes while telling her what I'm feeling. I continue to pump and slam harder, the cum serving as lube and her special juice pulling me further into the world we create. I also can't stop. My desperate yell fills the room as I manage to immediately cum more, the bed moving quicker than ever, her body having no choice but to take in my cock. My arms grip her as close as possible, our sweat mixing, and the smell in the room surpasses description. We are drenched in each other's pheromones.

There is only the sound of our heavy breathing for a moment. I move off to her side, continuing to hold her, enveloping all of her into my chest and abdomen. I can't let go. The other sessions were like this, too, but they also have their own twist and this one is no different. We'll do our usual routine of showering together, getting dressed, and maybe stopping somewhere for a quick snack before saying goodbye until we've got free time again. I know I'll be thinking about it until next time. The memories are resurfacing now and then within that realm where the long shadows are cast by a fiery sky and it's just her and me.