Throwaway Fashion

In this story a married woman has sex with a man who's not her husband. If that's not your thing, don't read.

Saturday came after a stressful week at work and my wife and I were shopping for groceries, intending to buy ingredients for a leisurely evening meal. Somehow, in among the groceries, we managed to end up in the car dealership inspecting a sensational new hybrid SUV. I took away the brochure and the promise of an exceptional deal on the price. The idea was to sit down with a drink and give the purchase some cool thought before going back and sealing the deal. We needed a new car, I loved what we'd seen and as far as I was concerned, we would buy.

"It's very exciting," said Cynthia thoughtfully as we arrived at the pub. "But a frightening sum of money. Surely we can get our thrills more cheaply."

"You know we need a new car and we can manage the cost."

"I suppose you want to talk about miles per gallon and options packages all lunch."

"It's important to think things through from every angle."

"The car we have runs fine. Boys and their toys!" she snorted and vanished to the Ladies.

I was still at the bar paying for the drinks when she came back. I'd bought her a Cinzano, the drink she liked when we had something to celebrate. I picked up the glass and turned to her, meaning to hand it over and say something like, "To our new car."

Her back was to me as if we didn't know one another. Beside her was a young man I'd not even noticed. His hair was greasy and he had a ring in one ear. Before I could work out what was going on, Cynthia spoke to him.

"Hello George, it's a long time. Are you meeting someone?"

The young man looked startled but quickly hid it behind a winning smile. He took his time in examining her carefully. "Could be. But it's Jules. Not George. Were you looking for me?"

"Don't you know? Maybe I mistook you for someone else. I'm waiting for my husband."

"Why tell me that? You got me excited. It's not a pick-up then?"

"I don't know about that. How lucky do you feel?"

"Very lucky."

She laughed delightedly. "So do I. It's one of those lucky days when anything might happen."

He glanced up at me and I turned away hurriedly, not wanting to embarrass myself -- or Cynthia.

"Then who did you think I was?"

"Oh ... somebody I knew at school. Or maybe not. Maybe I just thought it'd be fun to get to know you."

"Your husband's not here then?"

"He'll be here soon."

"And you wanted to chat? Are you sure that's all?" He leaned forward, lips reaching out suggestively. She ignored them.

"You think I'm an easy pick-up?"

"Well aren't you? It feels like a pick-up."

"Or is it me picking you up? I walked through the door and thought, I'm going to talk to that cute-looking man. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"You just want to say hello? And your husband's going to be here soon?"

She nodded. "You have to find out what I want. I'm not kissing you in front of all these old men and we don't have much time to get to know one another. You need to try a bit harder."

"How much time have we got?" He laughed. "I can see how much fun you could be."

"I'll make the time."

"Then we need to find the place." Jules looked round the bar. "And I'll show you why the girls like me. We could go somewhere else."

"But I'm meeting my husband here."

"We could go to my shop. It's only across the road."

"What shop is that?"

"The clothes boutique. I'm the manager. It's very quiet at lunchtime."

"What sort of clothes?"

"You've not been inside? Come and look. We'll find something for you."

Cynthia played the suspense and looked at the barman as if about to order a drink. Not once had she looked at me and the drink I'd bought her stood untouched on the bar in front of her.

"Well Jules, you have such big soulful brown eyes. Of course I'll come with you. But we'll have to be quick. My husband doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Talk about speed-dating. My head was still full of cars and options packages. The shop manager -- Jules -- gave me and the rest of the bar a triumphant glance as much as to say, "Look at me you mortals and despair. Two minutes with a girl and she's mine."

I was left staring at the Cinzano as the two walked out of the door side by side. What was I supposed to do? I swallowed a mouthful of beer, then another. Wait here till she comes back. What else was there to do? I looked at the car brochure. It seemed that Cynthia didn't find the car as exciting as I did.

A minute later I snorted into my beer. I'd just listened to my wife pick up a stranger at the bar. How could she fancy such a poor creature? I replayed their conversation in my head. What could she be thinking? I tried to picture him but could think only of his greasy hair. What magic had made her fix on him? He was young. Young and carefree and with muscles from working out in the gym. She demanded premium performance. I turned over the leaves of the brochure looking at the sleek, glossy lines of the car. And a big cock. Jules! I snorted again and finished my beer.

Hang on. But he looked to me like a hopeless, ignorant, shallow, feeble youth who'd never make anything of himself. Okay, she probably thought those were positives. After all, she wasn't marrying him and often accused me of being too correct and judgemental. Take life as it is, she would tell me. I looked at the glass of vermouth. The ice had melted. I picked it up and swallowed the drink in one gulp. It tasted like perfume and I almost choked it up.

My thoughts were reeling from drinking too fast and not eating. If I stayed in the pub, I'd drink too much. But if I left, how would Cynthia find me when she wanted to go home? I wandered outside, not sure what to do. Then I spotted the shop on the other side of the road. "Sensuous and Superior" it was called. The big windows were bright with exotic clothing -- lurid red and yellow tee shirts and dresses with bold geometric slabs of colour, some flimsy lingerie and a few naked, grotesque mannequins with leering expressions. I wandered over and peered inside. The place seemed deserted.

I pushed open the door and an old-fashioned bell sounded, causing the woman behind the counter to glance up at me. Thinking it would look foolish to retreat, I walked in. There was no sign of Cynthia or the greasy-haired manager. The woman gave me a thin smile. Her name was on a badge pinned to her breast: "Euphoria." We were both uneasy and I thought she might tell me to leave. Instead, she said, "Can I help you?"

"I'm after a present for my wife. Do you mind if I look round?"

"Well call if you need any help. Do you know her sizes?"

"Something like you."

"Well let me know if I can help."

The curtain on one of the changing cubicles was pulled across. I wandered round the shop flicking aimlessly through the clothes racks, not knowing what I was looking at. At the back of the shop there was a door opening onto a storeroom, which was empty. Music with an insistent beat played quietly in the background.

I was at the far end of the shop when I looked back at the changing cubicles. A girl's naked legs and feet were visible in the two-foot gap at the bottom of the curtain. It had to be Cynthia. I stared. Then I saw the boy's trainers and the bottom of his jeans. He was standing in front of her. Her heels lifted and she was on tiptoe, leaning forward. Disgusted with myself, I turned away.

Then she was kneeling and I could see she was naked up to her hip. It was warm and I was sweating. Without thinking, I picked up a fancy pair of panties stretched across a plastic hanger. Then I hurriedly put them down and wandered to another part of the shop.

I looked back at the cubicle. Now I was at an angle where I could see through a slight gap of about an inch where the curtain was not properly closed. What was she doing? Gradually I worked it out. She appeared to be naked and was kneeling on the floor. Jules, the greasy youth, must have had his cock pressed against her breasts. Her head was bent forward so that I could see the nape of her neck. Their bodies were straining against one another. Was she kissing and sucking his cock?

Euphoria was watching me so I picked up a dress and pretended to examine it. But my eye remained on the curtain.

"Have you found what you're looking for?" asked Euphoria, the woman at the counter. It sounded like an accusation.

Hastily, I put back the dress. "No, this isn't right. I'll keep looking."

"We have some new arrivals in the very latest designs if you want me to show you."

"I'm fine. I think I'll find something here."

We were both staring at the curtain. What was Cynthia doing now? She must have stood up and a moment later her feet vanished from sight.

I looked at Euphoria, trying to think of something to say. Before we could move, the curtain flicked and Cynthia slipped through, fully dressed. The curtain fell back, leaving her companion hidden. She looked flushed and cheerful and unsurprised to find me in the shop.

"Good. You're here. I hope you're not bored waiting."

"Are you done?"

She laughed. "You hope." To Euphoria, she said, "I'm in a rush and out of breath. I think you have some silk teddies. Can you show me?"

Talk about brazen! She was smiling happily as if we were all supporting actors in her big performance. We stared at her, taking in every detail of her sweaty, dishevelled appearance. There were beads of semen in her hair, which was untidy and stuck to her scalp.

Euphoria clicked her tongue crossly. "You can't try on lingerie," she said.

"Oh but I can," said Cynthia with a wide grin. "This is a special order and it's authorised."

She went to the display of underwear and picked over the items. After a moment she held up something see-through and body-coloured and gave me a cocky wink. "What do you think? Seductive or not? Come on, help me choose."

"A very popular choice," said Euphoria.

"The black would be better," I said.

"I think so too." She flicked through the rack, held up an almost non-existent tiny black top and panties. "This is it! And some stockings and a garter belt."

"The escort girl look. Very bold," said Euphoria.

"You think I look like a whore?"

"I meant you'll look gorgeous."

"She thinks you're a whore," I said.

Cynthia quickly found what she wanted and vanished into the cubicle.

"I don't know why she asked for my help," said Euphoria looking at me with more interest than before.

"I guess what seems sexy is very personal."

"Don't believe it. Men are driven to sex and have no imagination. They all want the same thing. Women indulge in sex."

"You know that for a fact?"

"I only stock what I like and my clothes are a celebration of a woman's sexuality. They don't turn her into a whore."

She didn't sound like a shop assistant. "Are you the manager?"

"I own the shop."

So Jules was hardly the manager. In which case, what gave him the right to lord it in the changing facilities?

"Have you found something for your wife?"

"It appears my wife likes lingerie. She's very indulgent."

"You mean ... I see what you mean."

"I wouldn't have dared buy her the teddy. Far too tarty. Are you're on your own in the shop?"

She looked wary again. "I have an assistant."

"With special tastes in lingerie?"

"Some of my customers like him to serve them. If he says he likes something, they like it."

We stared at the cubicle. Two pairs of feet were visible under the curtain. Then only the pair in the trainers. Moments later, the curtain began to flick gently. Someone was knocking against it so that it jerked to a beat. Little by little the gap at the side grew larger as the curtain rings were nudged along the rail by the motion. Now the gap revealed Cynthia's pale thigh above a stocking top. Then I could make out Jules sitting on a chair. She was straddling his lap, her heels kicking as if riding a horse. I could hear the creak of the chair as she bore down on him with all her weight.

We seemed to have no choice other than to watch. Euphoria's large bust was heaving and she clenched her fists, making a disapproving tutting sound with her tongue. I could smell her perfume. We were both perspiring in the airless shop. The curtain stopped jerking and there was silence.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" I sat on the chair behind the counter. Euphoria followed me and stood with her hands on the counter.

"Are you sure you're alright? I hope you're not going to complain," she said. "Maybe I should shut the shop."

We stared at the curtain. The gap had expanded and was two feet wide. Cynthia had on the black underwear. The see-through top made her breasts appear larger than usual as she climbed off Jules and turned her back. Now she presented us with a view of her rear in the tiny panties. She leaned forward on her front across the chair. Jules bent over her, pulling aside the panties, and pressed himself onto her, pumping into her from behind. It looked clumsy and awkward but his movement was vigorous. Both took no notice of the audience.

Euphoria's face was now flushed, her breathing irregular, her bosom rising and falling. She was leaning on the counter, one hand pressing her short skirt between her thighs. As I watched, she drew up her skirt so that she could get her hand underneath. Now she was bending forward, mouth open, eyes closed.

The doorbell chimed and a customer came in, a tall woman of about forty who sniffed the air suspiciously and went over to the racks of underwear. My mouth dropped open. What would Euphoria do? If the customer walked past the cubicle, she must see what was going on inside. And Cynthia had started to grunt.

Euphoria ignored the customer. Her skirt was pulled up, her hand down the front of her yellow knickers. Could it be Cynthia who turned her on? Absorbed by what she was doing, I guessed it was a question of whether she finished herself before the two in the cubicle.

"There's a customer," I warned her.

She opened her eyes and shook her head, back arched, buttocks clenching. Her knickers fell to her ankles, her hand pressed between her legs.

"Excuse me," called the customer. "Tell me which of these you think is a better match."

"Let me help you. Those are both the very best you could buy."

That was me. Maybe I'd always wanted to keep a shop. The customer held up two sets of camisole and panties, hardly my area of expertise. But so what? The assistant fucked my wife, the owner rubbed herself off and I kept shop. Role reversal.

"This pair, I think, is super sophisticated, effortlessly seductive. This other pair -- think high class call girl welcoming her date. Both would suit you very well."

She smiled thoughtfully. "You mean I'll look like a tramp. Is that what you tell all your customers?"

"Indulge yourself. Be confident in how you look. Looking like a tramp doesn't make you one."

"I'd have to work at it, you mean. But I think you're right, I should be more adventurous. Which colour should I take?"

"You have blue eyes. I think the black."

Now she was smiling dreamily. "Are you sure? How much will that cost?"

"Let's take it to the till."

Don't ask me why I did it. At the till, she must see the two in the cubicle. Euphoria was still leaning on the counter to steady herself and I had to nudge her shoulder to get her attention.

"Can you check the price of these?" I asked.

She was no help, glancing quickly at me before turning back to the cubicle. Our eyes followed. The curtain now hid very little. Maybe Jules felt the battery of eyes on his pumping buttocks because he twisted and lifted himself off Cynthia, a monstrous shining erection bounding in front of his belly. He pulled Cynthia up and took her place on the chair. She was glistening with sweat, the top dragged down below one breast, the stockings unclipped and round her ankles. Her breasts and belly were red from the pressure of the chair. Straddling his legs, she sat facing away from him. Staring at us without seeming to see anything, she used her hand to guide herself onto his cock, grunting with satisfaction as she pressed down hard. He thrust his hips so that she was bounced up and down, breasts flopping about unconstrained by the flimsy top.

"You can give the gear a workout before you buy?" asked the customer drily. "Or is this a marketing drive?" She watched in silence for a moment, then turned to me. "Can you watch without wanting to rip off my clothes? What do you think? Shall we give it a go?"

I looked at her and we laughed. I've no idea whether she was serious or whether we were both destabilised by the sight of indulgent, carefree pleasure. Euphoria's hand was back under her skirt and she sat down suddenly. Shortly after, Cynthia gasped loudly as Jules gripped her round the waist, holding her tightly onto his cock. Jules had reached his orgasm and it felt like we should applaud.

After a minute, they separated. Jules sat and watched as Cynthia dressed, cock leaning to one side. She pulled on her skirt and stepped into her sandals then came out of the cubicle. Everyone laughed.

"What's the matter?" she demanded, looking innocently at us.

"You don't mean to walk down the street looking like that?" said the customer.

"Why not? It's expresses how I feel. Well-fucked."

Everyone seemed pleased for Cynthia, admiring of Jules's prowess, happy to be present for their moment of bliss. Euphoria looked awestruck as if in the presence of a goddess. The customer seemed delighted to have found such raunchy entertainment on her high street.

The price label was tucked away in the camisole and Euphoria rang up the till in a daze. Then I grabbed Cynthia's hand and dragged her out of the shop. The car was parked a hundred yards off and everyone stared as we walked along the street. I tried to hurry but Cynthia sauntered. It was a warm day and people were wearing as little as they could. Cynthia stood out all the same, her dark nipples visible through the see-through top. It took an age to get to the car and I drove off at once.

When we were safely anonymous, I said, "So what was that all about?"

"Come off it, lover. You met Jules."

"Sex, you mean."

"Yes, sex. Wasn't I lucky? He's adorable. And he has a big cock."

"Of course."

"And the stamina of a mule."

"A lurid image."

She laughed. "Come on lover boy, don't mope. You like me to have a good time and well make up later."

"We're going by the car dealer's so put on your tee shirt. I don't want to be arrested."

"You never know, you might get a better deal if I walk in like this."

"I'm not risking it."

"Or we could go home and make love."

"We can do that too. But after going to the dealer. I mean to strike while the iron's hot."

"You mean, when I can hardly object."

Later, when we were home, she said, "I'm pleased you bought the car. I know how much you wanted it."

"You looked really hot, you know, walking down the street in your see-through teddy."

"You should have stopped me. I got carried away."

"No chance. You wanted me to?"

"Maybe not. Was I making a fool of myself?"

"You looked like a goddess. Euphoria, the shopkeeper, would have kidnapped you and locked you in her bedroom."

She smiled, enjoying the memories. "Everyone had a good time. And you got your new car."

After dinner, she said, "You want me to show you my new tricks?"

We went to the bedroom and she put on the gear -- teddy, panties, garter belt and stockings. I sat on the stool in front of her dressing table and she straddled my legs, pulled the panties to one side and sat on my cock. I watched her in the mirror as she bounced up and down. After a bit she began to grunt and it was hard not to think of her doing the same with Jules. She wasn't a bit tired from her earlier efforts and there was no doubt that we were both enjoying ourselves. Very soon, I was ready to come. Like Jules, I gripped her round the waist, thrust with my hips and held on tight as I came.