tagLoving WivesStorm Goes Shopping

Storm Goes Shopping

byquinn rogan©

Storm was restless. Three days of sun, sea, sand and sex in Cyprus had left her hungry for more of the same, but it looked like Roger, her partner, was beginning to wilt.

They had just had lunch in a charming little seaside village café, with a very good bottle of sparkling wine, and Storm, tired of her shapeless white t-shirt and baggy shorts, had made up her to buy one – or two - of the gorgeous short sun-dresses she had seen in the small boutique at the edge of the market square.

She certainly had the figure, and the legs, for one and, although she knew Roger liked her to dress conservatively, she wanted to look good off the beach, as well as on it. And, if that meant that the passing men "stripped her with their eyes", as Roger grumblingly put it, well, Storm could live with that!

But she could tell Roger wasn't on top form as she practically dragged him into the shop, and began to rummage around on the rails. The shop was empty, apart from them, and the owner, a quite handsome olive-skinned Greek with dark eyes and a black moustache, who spoke no English.

Storm, having selected four lovely little numbers to try on, looked questioningly at the owner, who nodded his head at a small curtained area in the back corner of the shop.

"I'm just going to try these on," she said to Roger, who nodded moodily and slumped on to a chair beside the front door, through which a welcome breeze wafted. Storm sighed and pulled the curtain open and entered the surprisingly spacious changing-room.

There was a chair in the corner, with a rack of hooks above it, and the whole of the back wall was taken up with a full-length mirror, bisected by a shelf running along it, at about waist-height.

The only disadvantage was that, at the back of the shop, with no window, the room was stiflingly hot. Storm could feel the sheen of perspiration forming on her skin already and she began to worry about possibly staining the material of the dresses she was about to try on.

Pulling the curtain closed behind her, she laid the dresses carefully over the chair, then peeled her t-shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. Involuntarily, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and admired her full, firm breasts with their long, rose-red nipples.

Cupping them gently in her hands, she twisted left and right, to examine them in profile. They were really sexy, even if she said it herself! She made up her mind to buy a dress with a low neckline, or a deep V at the front. She didn't mind if she raised a few bulges in shorts other than Roger's!

Absently, she allowed her fingers to stray over her nipples, and was surprised at the instant response, as they hardened appreciably, and the backwash spread down to her groin, releasing tantalising warmth between her thighs.

She felt herself blush and watched, fascinated, as a pinkish tinge suffused her face and her upper body.

It was then that she looked into the mirror and realised that the curtain was half-open – and that she could see the face of the owner, staring at her reflection. Instinctively, she moved across, out of his line of vision, and pulled the curtain across again.

It was fixed to the rail by half a dozen shower curtain hooks and, as Storm watched it, she realised that the pole was on a slant, and the hooks inevitably slid down it, slowly, revealing the inside to whoever was standing behind the counter.

For some reason, instead of being offended, Storm realised that she was beginning to find this exciting. As a young girl, she had been very reluctant to let boys see her breasts, although she loved having them felt and fondled, and the thought of displaying them to a stranger was very arousing, and something she seldom had the courage to do.

Without really thinking about it, she eased her beach shorts down her hips and stepped out of them. Underneath, she wore only a silver G-string, and she was not surprised to see, in the mirror, that the sliver of material covering her vagina was darkened with the leakage of juices caused by her arousal.

The G-string was a little uncomfortable and, as Storm eased it away from her moistening slit with both hands, she looked up at the mirror again.

The curtain had parted a little, although not as much as before, but, once again, the Greek proprietor was taking advantage and leering at her practically naked body.

This time, Storm suppressed the instinct to hide herself and, to her amazement, met the man's eyes, and smiled at him. His expression did not change, but he didn't drop his eyes and his hand came up and caressed the ends of his moustache.

Then, suddenly, Roger's head appeared round the curtain. Storm started and covered herself, with a nervous laugh.

"Haven't you picked one yet?" he said, and she shook her head.

"Well, I'm going back to the hotel for a drink," he went on. "I'll meet you at the pool. OK?"

"Yes, OK," answered Storm, loudly enough for the shop owner to hear – then remembered he didn't speak English. Roger pulled the curtain closed and, seconds later, Storm heard the shop door close.

Picking up the dress on top of the pile, she slid it over her head. If this one fits, she told herself, I'll take it. It was one thing having a bit of fun with Roger in the shop, but …

The dress was tight and, because of the perspiration on her skin, she was still trying to get her arms through it when she felt the hands take hold of her naked breasts. He was behind her and, as he closed in, she felt the hardness of his erection against her hips.

With another shock, she realised that his penis was not pressing against her through the rough material of his jeans. Its uncovered hard heat was laid along one of the soft cheeks of her buttocks. She gasped as he shifted his body and his cock slid effortlessly between the junction of her thighs.

He moved his hands from her breasts and pulled the trapped dress over her head. As it came off, Storm saw her open-mouthed reflection in the glass and watched as his hands closed on her breasts again and caressed the aching, blood-engorged nipples.

Suddenly, with a great rush of excitement, Storm wanted him. Her heart was pounding wildly and she could feel the hot blood thundering through her veins. She wanted to fill the aching void between her legs ...

Storm reached down between her thighs and slid her fingers round his thrusting cock, pushing it up against her thong-covered vagina. She couldn't wait for him to make the running. She pulled her G-string aside and hungrily fed his thick dark cock inside her, moaning with satisfaction as it thrust up her warm wet channel.

Grasping the shelf in front of the mirror with her hands, she bent forward at the waist and, spreading her legs as wide as she could, she thrust her hips backwards at him, impaling herself on his prick, willing him to thrust it further and further inside her.

The Greek released her swollen tits and, standing up, took hold of Storm's hipbones and pistoned his cock in and out of her, grunting with every thrust, his grunts growing more and more frantic until, with a shock of despair, Storm realised that he was on the point of orgasm.

Too late, she tried to pull away, to delay his ejaculation until she had time to reach her clitoris and join him. With a grunt that turned into a mighty roar, he rammed his cock up her one last time and held it in, tight, while his body went rigid, then began to shake uncontrollably as he spurted copiously inside her.

Storm tried to resist the feeling of frustration at missing her own orgasm as she felt his detumescing penis slither out of her and he slowly moved away from behind her. Straightening up, she turned and let out a small scream as she met two more pairs of eyes.

The shop owner had gone, but the two boys framed in the door were younger replicas – one around twenty-one, tall and powerful; the other obviously younger, small and slight

"Oh, no," protested Storm, her hands moving to cover her naked body, but she was already too late. The older boy grabbed her wrists and held them apart as his confident eyes slid over her breasts and belly, down to the neatly trimmed pubic bush and shapely thighs. Storm was powerless as he gently pushed her back against the wall, then closed in on her and placed his full-lipped mouth on hers.

Helplessly, she felt herself responding to his kiss, her mouth opening to admit his probing tongue, her arms stretching up to tangle her fingers in the dark curls at the back of his neck. She felt his hand creep up and caress her breast and she moaned as her nipple reacted, once again, to manual stimulation.

His other hand was busy at the front of his jeans and Storm hoped his cock was as big as his father's. She had abandoned reason – she wanted this boy's cock to fill the gap his father had left. Her thighs were already spreading, in anticipation, her vaginal channel soaking. A series of low moans sounded deep in her throat.

The boy thrust his narrow hips back as he manoeuvred his long, hard penis out of the front of his tattered jeans, then Storm felt his strong hands grip the backs of her taut thighs as he lifted her, bodily, off the ground.

Realising what was happening, Storm wound her arms round his neck, burying her face in the hollow of his neck, the wall supporting her back. At the same time, she raised her feet and, with an effort, linked them together behind the boy's buttocks, to assist him.

He grunted in satisfaction, then gently lowered Storm, inch by inch, until she felt, with a gasping shudder, the head of his throbbing cock between the slippery lips of her gaping channel. She closed her eyes and held her breath as it slid, agonisingly slowly, inwards and upwards.

It seemed to go on for ever until, at last, she felt the pressure of his pubic bone against her protruding, quivering clitoris. It was then that she started to feel the slow build-up of the volcanic orgasm inside her.

The boy's cock was not as thick as his father's, but it was at least as long, and, as far as Storm was concerned, much more skilfully deployed. He began to ride her with long slow strokes, his mouth teasing her heaving breasts as she writhed in his arms, her climax becoming ever more imminent.

Storm could hear her moans becoming ever louder, turning into screams of pleasure, as the internal pressure built up and up inside her. It was like being propelled inexorably up a hill and she rose like a bird to the summit. For a second, as she breasted the top, the world stopped, then a strangled yell escaped her, stars and firecrackers burst in her head, and her body was raging on fire.

Writhing wildly, she climaxed again and again in his strong arms, sweat pouring down both their entwined bodies, until, after what seemed like an age, Storm's vision slowly cleared, her heart rate slowed down and a huge contentment and lassitude overtook her as she slumped over her lover's broad young shoulders.

Dimly, she realised that, somewhere along the way, he must have orgasmed, too, for his penis had slid out of her vagina and her feet were back on the ground. Tenderly, the boy lowered her on to the single chair in the room, and stood back, tucking his penis away in his jeans.

He smiled down at Storm, then leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks. Storm smiled weakly back as he exited the changing-room, noiselessly, and took a deep breath. She must get out of here, she thought. What if Roger came looking ….

Her train of exhausted thought was broken by a small movement in the corner of the cubicle. She turned her head and saw the smaller boy, struggling to his feet from the sitting position – from which, presumably, he had sat quietly watching his older brother and this strange foreign lady …

Storm realised she was quite naked – where had her G-string gone? When had it been removed? The boy was on his feet now, not meeting Storm's eye. She realised he was really beautiful - with a round, olive-skinned face and huge liquid-black eyes with long, curling lashes. He was trying to leave, unobtrusively, but, on impulse, Storm reached out and caught his thin wrist.

He looked sideways at her, and could not keep his eyes off her naked breasts. Momentarily, his eyes lifted to hers, then the long lashes came down like a curtain, and the glimpsed innocence of his eyes reminded Storm, achingly, of Philip Waring, the boy who had given her her first kiss on the back seat of the school bus. She remembered how he had held his coat over them so that the teacher wouldn't see what they were doing …

She gently tugged the boy's wrist and he allowed himself to be pulled towards her, unresistingly. He stood, facing her, between her spread knees, as she sat on the chair. She lifted his captured hand to her breast and he touched it, tentatively at first, then more boldly, exploring its contours with his fingers.

Then he raised his other hand and touched the other one. Storm leaned forward and kissed his inexperienced, full lips. They tasted sweet and soft and he opened his mouth instinctively, his fingers now caressing Storm's sensitive nipples.

He was wearing a pair of soccer shorts, held up by elastic, and Storm reached forward and eased them over his slim hips. They went down easily at the back, but encountered some resistance at the front. Peering round, but holding the boy's kiss, Storm pulled them forward, and smiled as the youngster's pink erection sprang out from its cushion of downy pubic hair.

She was in a strange, post-coital dreamy state, she realised, as she stretched a hand forward to take hold of his slim, but very hard, member. It felt warm, and nice, and, gently pushing her head downwards, so that he had to release her breasts, she lowered her mouth and took it in between her lips, her hand gently cupping his surprisingly heavy testicles.

With a slight sensation of surprise, but no alarm, she felt his hand burrow between her legs, finding her sated clitoris at the first attempt. Maybe he's not so innocent, she thought, as he expertly teased it to erection. Giving his prick a last loving suck, she took it between her fingers again and slid her hips forward on the low chair.

With no prompting, the boy bent his knees so that his cock pointed straight up between Storm's parted thighs, and she guided him into her. His entry was effortless and cool, and Storm pulled him towards her and kissed him on the mouth again. Once again, his hands rose to her breasts and played with them as his tongue slid around the inside of her mouth and his cock fucked her gently.

Storm pulled his hard small buttocks towards her as he pushed in and out and, when she felt them begin to tighten in her hands, she pulled his whole length into her and tensed her vaginal muscles, locking him in, just as he started to shudder and the first load spurted into her.

She didn't come herself, but he seemed to go on for ever, and Storm mashed their lips together as he emptied his seed in an incessant flood into her receptive vagina. At last, he calmed down and Storm hugged him tightly as he leaned into her.

"I must go now," she whispered. "You were the best!"

His eyes lifted mischievously under the long lashes.

"Thank you," he said. "I learn English at school."

With surprise, Storm saw, as he pulled up his shorts, that his cock was still hard. Then, with a last shy smile, he slipped out through the curtain.

Storm found her G-string under the chair and slipped it on, then struggled into her T-shirt and shorts. She looked in the mirror – the T-shirt was sticking to her, her breasts clearly outlined, her dark nipples pushing and clearly visible against the stretched fabric. Her eyes were heavy, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed and lustrous. There was no doubt about it – she looked like someone who had been well and truly fucked! She shrugged and smiled back at her reflection and turned to leave.

Her eyes fell on the four dresses. For a second, she thought about leaving them, but then she picked them up and pulled the curtain back. The owner came out from behind the counter, holding a plastic carrier bag, bearing the name of the shop. He held it open and she dropped the dresses in it. He walked to the shop door and, unlocking it, flipped the sign to read "Open".

Without a backward glance, Storm stepped out into the quiet street. She felt a hand give her buttocks a farewell fondle as she stepped into the glare of the afternoon sunshine, and she shivered with pleasure.

Then, as her eyes accustomed themselves to the sunlight, she recognised Roger, sitting at a table at a pavement café across the square. He lifted a hand in greeting and Storm's heart sank. She had hoped to get a shower at the hotel before she saw Roger again, but now …

She remembered what she had looked like in the mirror as she crossed the square to join him – he was bound to ask questions. She could feel her tits swaying seductively in her T-shirt as she walked, and, as hard as she tried to walk primly, her legs together, she knew that her hips were rolling suggestively, too.

Storm couldn't meet Roger's eyes as she slid into the seat beside him. Wordlessly, he picked up the carrier bag and looked inside.

"You got all of them, then?" he asked. Storm nodded.

"How much?" he asked. She shrugged, helplessly, and let her eyes lift towards his. To her surprise, they were alive with interest – a marked contrast to his earlier attitude. His hand wandered under the table and stroked her thigh. He leaned towards her.

"Surely he didn't charge you for them?" Roger breathed, his hand tightening on the still pulsating flesh of Storm's thigh. His fingers slipped under the leg of her shorts and pushed gently against her sopping G-string.

"I saw that curtain," he whispered. "That's why I left. Now we're going back to the hotel and you can tell me exactly how you paid for these dresses ..."

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