I needed new pants.
Sunday night at the mall: I passed a security guard, leaning and scrolling on their phone. The pretzel shop kids were starting to break things down, trying to keep eye contact from anyone who might try to be a customer. The whole mall seemed to be yawning, slowly turning itself in for the night. A few of the shops, like those weird eclectic shops that seemed to be owned by locals who sell Earth flags and incense, were already gated up.
I was going to the place I usually go to, since I know the sizes and I don't have to go to the dressing rooms. I arrived and made a beeline for the men's rack. Picked up two pair, and then turned and saw the underwear section, where I did a double-take.
A new line of underwear had made it to this part of the world, and I was amused: thongs. In this area. Not really the most progressive city, hell, not even the most progressive county.
"They're new," a voice said, and I turned and saw the store's employee, with an armload of shirts, putting things people had tried on but didn't want back to their racks.
"Yeah. Surprising."
He laughed. "They're pretty great." He was college-age, tall, lean, his hair short, blond, and curly. He wore tight, low-cut skinny jeans, high tops, and a large, baggy shirt. His face was feminine, his name tag said "Hudson." He smiled and tossed the pile of shirts onto a nearby rack, then playfully pulled down the waistline of his pants while pulling up his underwear to show me he was wearing a pair.
"So you approve?" I smiled.
"You should try some on," he said.
"The underwear?"
"Or the pants. Whatever." He took a small step closer. "I just think you should try something on. I can open the fitting rooms for you. And...help you."
It took me a moment to register all that was happening. This young man was coming on to me! Opportunities like this don't come up often, and I didn't really know what to do, since I was in the hesitancy of shock.
He took the pants I had picked out from me. "Here," he said. "Let me get you set up."
"But what about the store?"
"Don't worry. Sheila?" he called out.
A young woman's voice came back. "What's up?"
"I think this gentleman should try on these pants. I'm gonna take him into the dressing room. Do you think you could watch the store?"
Sheila appeared: a brunette, wearing tight jeans and a white tank top that showed off a black push up bra performing the Lord's work on a set of giant tits. Lipstick as shiny red as an 80s sportscar. She looked me up and down. "Why, certainly."
"Okay Sir," Hudson said. "Please come with me."
We walked to the back of the store, me still in shock, my heart beating quickly, just falling in line with Hudson's direction. We walked the hallway of dressing rooms, where he opened one of the stalls to the back, and he opened the door. "This way, sir," he said, looking back over his shoulder with a look, the look, that look. It was here that I changed over from surprise to letting myself get into this escapade: he was hot, he was game, and when do things like this happen? I followed him into the small booth and closed the door behind me. We had a five foot by five foot space to ourselves, a full length mirror, a small bench. A moment passed.
"Which pants would you like to--"
Before Hudson could finish the sentence I stepped to him and put my hands on his hips, pulling him close. He gave a little gasp, and then smiled coyly. "Oh, sir," he said. I pulled him right to me, and I could feel his hardness in his pants. I made sure he felt something hard in my pants. I took my hands from his hips and put them on either side of his face, and kissed him. He twisted at the waist, rubbing our crotches together. He pulled away, bit his lower lip.
"Sir," he said, his voice soft, feminine. "We need to get your old pants off so you can try these."
There was a knock at the door and my heart skipped. It opened and Sheila was standing there, leaning against the frame. "I'm watching the store."
"Are you?" I asked.
She jerked a thumb back down the hall we had come down. "Oh, I can see the front door from here, honey. You don't worry about a thing."
Hudson undid my belt, undid my pants, and wasted no time: he pulled them down along with my underwear, letting my hard cock bounce to full attention. Sheila gave an approving noise, and Hudson squealed playfully.
"What do you think, Sheila?"
"Daddy's got a good-looking dick," Sheila said.
Hudson came back up and we took off my shirt. He put his mouth on the side of
my neck.
"Daddy," he said, under his breath, pressing his body against mine. He put his hands on my ass, then stroked upwards along my back. I went back to holding his face and kissing him, and felt his tongue probe for more. His hands came around from my back, and he grabbed onto my cock with his hands.
"Hold on," I said. I stepped back a bit, letting him hold onto me by my penis, and then I went for his pants, felt for his dick through his pants. "I want to see what's going on here." He stepped away, all too eager to take his own clothes off. As he did, a hand touched my shoulder: Sheila. I twisted towards her and put one hand at the small of her back, bringing her to my side so that my hard-on was still pointing towards Hudson. I kissed her. She wrapped her arms around me at the waist, trailed some fingers up and down my torso. She smelled like vanilla, she moaned. Her lips were fat and soft, her tits pressed against me. Suddenly a hand was on my dick, and Hudson pulled me back towards him with it gently. "She's supposed to be watching the store," he smiled.