Life of Paul - Pdx

All characters appearing or mentioned in this story are 18 years old or older. This story is a work of fiction and any reference or description to actual persons is unintentional.

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If you are enjoying these stories, leave a comment about what you liked or didn't, or things you want to ready more of. I'll take advice into consideration when I'm working out the next parts of the LoP stories.

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End of March 1999

"YES! Fuck me like a cheap whore!" Morgan commanded as I slammed my long, thick cock into her from behind. We had moved to the bathroom and its two walls of mirrors so Morgan could get a better view of us. She was immensely turned on watching herself get fucked hard and, to be honest, it turned me on too.

Watching her F-cup tits bounce as I thrust into her pussy from behind, her tousled brown hair framing her smiling face, and her expression as she locked her sea-green eyes on me as we fucked, was erotic in more ways than I could count. I picked up the pace a bit more from how hot it all was.

"Oh, fuck, yes," she encouraged, "fuck me deep and nasty. Stretch out my pretty little pussy with your big, fat cock and fill me up with all that cum."

I sped up again at the filth coming out of her mouth.

"I want it so bad," Morgan moaned as she squeezed her nipple hard, "I want all of it. I want more, FUCK YES LIKE THAT, more than you gave that hot little slut I saw earlier." Morgan started playing with her pussy again, rubbing it hard as I continued to pound her.

"Fuck, Morgan, I'm close," I panted, fucking her at break-neck speed. The slapping of my pelvis on her ass cheeks echoed loudly in the still empty bathroom.

"Do it, yes, give me what I need," she begged.

"Oh, fuck, YES, FUCK MORGAN, FUUUUUUU" I bellowed as I came. I thrust the full length of my hard cock deep into Morgans pussy as I came for the second time this morning, grabbing the tops of her shoulders so I could pull her down onto me as deeply as I could penetrate. It felt amazing as she also came shortly after I did, tightly squeezing my girth in her loins. Since she'd already cum three times this morning from my oral assaults and our previous tryst on the bed, this orgasm of hers was weaker but still gripped my spasming cock firmly.

We spent a few moments riding the high of our mutual orgasms and catching our breath. Morgan stood, pulled off of me, went to her knees and inhaled my deflating cock to the hilt.

"Oh fuck!" I hissed as she deep throated me. She pulled off slowly, working her tongue as far around it as it could reach before pulling off completely. She then proceeded to lick my entire cock clean of our mutual juices, purring as she did.

Once she was satisfied, she stood up and started the shower, leaving me stooped near the counter still breathing hard. Waiting for the water, she came over and embraced me firmly, to which I responded in kind.

The feel of her hot, sweaty, curvaceous, tight body against me didn't immediately do anything to get me back to a serviceable hardness, but it was just plain nice to have a beautiful woman want to hug me.

"That was amazing," she mumbled against my chest. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," I said.

"And I'm not even mad that other girl tried on my gifts."

"I'll be sure to tell her when I talk to her," I said.

Breaking our hug, Morgan tested the water and entered, followed by myself. While rinsing, Morgan asked about Maryanne.

"So, how did she look in those outfits," she asked as she wetted her hair.

"Amazing," I said honestly. "Although she only tried on that maid apron. I would have liked to see how that purple number looked on her. Or, for that matter, how it'd look on you," I said, pointedly staring at Morgans swaying F-cup breasts as she washed her hair. She saw me stare, which I liked that she liked that I liked. Or...something like that. She smirked while she bounced them a little more than necessary while rinsing her hair, which I enjoyed immensely.

"There are more in that box that we didn't get to try this morning, and a whole shop full of them that you can see tomorrow," she said, rinsing shampoo out of her hair. She turned around and I started to massage the shampoo out of her hair, which she sighed at.

"So the owner knows I'm coming to see the place," I asked. I grabbed the soap and started going over her back and arms, slowly massaging as I went.

"Yes," she responded, "about noon is fine. She doesn't, oh my god that feels good," she said as I hit her lower back. "She doesn't open the shop until 2 or so, so you'll have plenty of time to talk things over."

I moved down her back and onto her ass with the soap. She spun around as I moved slowly up her stomach, finally reaching her epic breasts. I spent a fair amount of time there, since there was a lot to wash and it was immensely fun to do so. Morgan appreciated it too as she started rinsing off my cock with the extra soap.

Once we were done soaping each other, we toweled off, dressed, and said our goodbyes. "Oh, I almost forgot," said Morgan after our third tongue-filled farewell.

"Rebecca is the name of the owner. She's..." Morgan paused thinking of the right word, "forceful, in her dealings. I've talked with her about you and your ideas at length. She certainly know's her business is in trouble, but also how much its potentially worth, so she'll try to get more money out of you."

"Understood," I answered.

"And don't let those big doe eyes or long legs fool you," she added, "she'll totally flirt to get her way."

Morgan moved in front of me, pressing her ample bust into my chest and wrapping her arms around my neck. She planted a deep, wet, passionate kiss on me. It was heavenly as I savored the moment.

"Hopefully," she said breathily to my face, "I was able to empty those massive balls of yours well enough to keep you out of trouble. But if not, don't sign anything until I look at it. I'd hate to see you waste a ton of money just to get a peek under her skirt."

"I guess I'll just have to depend on my charms if I want to get a peek then," I quipped.

"Ha," Morgan barked, kissing me quickly and turning to leave, "somehow that wouldn't surprise me one bit. But still, don't give away the home-world. I'll see you tonight to help unpack."

After she left, it dawned on me that she made a reference to a sci-fi TV show, and one of my favorites no less.

Reminding myself to take Morgan out for a fancy dinner after we unpacked, I went about preparing myself for meeting this formidable business owner.

#

The shop I was about to buy was indeed in trouble. However, it was also artificially inflated trouble since much of the surrounding area was in poor shape from lack of management. Trash on the streets, overgrown patches of...some sort of green plants, and vandalism everywhere made the area look inhospitable.

To my naive eyes, a little elbow grease and a good coat of paint would have done wonders for the block. Perhaps I can propose that to the owners and get something going.

The lingerie shop was situated between a corner shop offering all sorts of strange but upscale wares and clothing, and a jewelry store that had more bars on its windows than a federal prison. It was down a short set of stairs that had a tiny patch of a front porch, and made if feel a little more private, which was nice I suppose.

The lingerie shop door was large and heavy and had several layers of paint on it, making it look bulky. The inside was fairly nice and upscale as far as such places go. The walls were a soft cream color and the whole space was clean and well lit. The mannequins were in good repair, featuring bra and panty sets, corsets, skimpy bikinis, and teddies of all lengths. They looked very nice and I saw a few pieces that I intended to pick up on my way out for a certain stewardess and her coed roommate. Perhaps something that maple syrup will easily wash off of.

I was intently studying one such piece when a soft throat clearing noise caught my attention. Turning around, I saw the woman who caused the noise, and immediately saw what Morgan meant by doe eyes and long legs.

Rebecca was difficult to describe at first due to her being so striking. She was tall, at least 5' 11", with slender legs and forearms, a long neck, and sharp features. Morgan mentioned that she was in her 40's but you couldn't tell from her face. She was beautiful and somewhat aloof looking, making her appear to be in her early-30's. Her eyes were a bright blue and her hair, blonde in color but with dark roots, was pulled back into a loose ponytail.

Her outfit was a black pencil shirt that went to her upper-thigh, showing off much of her toned legs. Her blouse was nude colored and she wore a black blazer that was somewhat snug but long on her torso and rolled up at the sleeves. Her jacket didn't have those weird 80's style shoulder pads you sometimes see, which made her neck look longer.

The entire outfit was on the cusp of being office attire you'd normally see, and what a stripper might wear before the music starts. From how she walked it could go either way.

"I assume you're Paul, since you just walked in without knocking," she said amused. She strolled over and locked the outside door. There were curtains over the windows and door that were semi-transparent, which gave the space privacy; essential for such a store.

Walking over, we shook hands as we exchanged pleasantries. "So," Rebecca said, "you're exactly as Morgan described you. I wasn't sure if she was serious or not."

"Why? What would make you think I'm not serious about my proposal," I asked.

"For one," she said, "you're not exactly dressed like a rich investor."

Glancing down at my somewhat worn jeans, long sleeve shirt and zip up hoodie, I could see what she meant.

"I just moved here yesterday," I explained, "all my suits are packed still." It was true enough; my suits were in my suitcase, which technically meant they were packed.

She looked unamused by my comments, turning to walk further into the shop. Following her, I of course took the opportunity to check out her shapely ass, which looked round and tight from what I could tell. Her skirt hid some details but it was more than enough to know she was a total stunner.

"So," Rebecca said as she walked towards the back office, "why is it that you want to purchase a lingerie shop? Not many young men would know how to run such a shop, let alone make it sufficiently profitable."

She went around behind an ornate desk and sat down, motioning me to take the chair opposite. Her skirt rode up slightly as she crossed her legs, showing a small amount of the lace upper of her stockings.

"Well," I started as a took my seat, "the products you have here are unique and very nice. Im surprised that your sales aren't doing better, actually."

"Sales aren't the issue," Rebecca explained, "the issue is people still think of this as a 'naughty store', or a sex shop. Yes, we sell sexual aids and clothing you can't wear to the office, but that isn't the point of this shop."

"What is the point then," I asked.

"Do you know what lingerie is, Paul?"

I thought about it for a moment. Of course it was clothing, sort of, but it was likely much more than that. With my experience limited to what I've seen various women wear, and how much I enjoyed looking at them wearing it, I didn't have a very intelligent answer.

"Apart from the obvious points of 'women look sexy in it', I don't have a good answer."

Rebecca smiled slightly at this. "At least that's an honest answer. Here, I'll give you an example of what lingerie is."

Rebecca stood up slowly, un-buttoned her coat, and spread it open slightly. I could see that her nude colored shirt was actually just a very fine mesh material that matched her skin perfectly. As she opened one side of her jacket slightly, I could see a pale blue patch of her bra, which was also light blue mesh and transparent enough to show the three small freckles on the inside of her left breast.

I had to adjust my pants slightly at this demonstration, which did not go unnoticed by Rebecca. She smirked at my adjusting, looking satisfied that her demo had the intended effect. She re-buttoned her jacket and sat back down.

"Since blood has been diverted from your brain, I'll explain what that demonstration was about," she said.

I tried not to be offended, however right she may be. I also tried to not think about what the rest of that blue bra looks like or if she had any more freckles. Or if her panties matched her bra.

"All I did was show you one little portion of my bra," she explained. "I didn't spread my legs, I didn't talk dirty, I did nothing but stand there. And yet, I produced a result in you that was both focused and immediate."

"So," I interjected, "it's partly about power?"

"Yes and no," she answered, "but mostly no. It's about mystery. About a hint, a promise, and about inspiring a motivation to ask questions."

Since I was wondering a number of things, I couldn't argue with her point.

"I'm sure one of the questions was 'does her panties match her bra', as well as questions about what my breasts look like, my nipples, the curve of my torso, how many freckles do I have, and a great many other things.

"That is the point of lingerie. It's not for men to appreciate what a woman looks like; its for a woman to feel good about herself. For her to feel sexy; empowered even."

Rebecca had a number of good points. I told her so.

"The portion that is about power is only that which all women have always had; the power to incite stupidity in men."

Again, I couldn't argue with her.

"But still," Rebecca continued, "it isn't exclusively women who have this ability. Women have the same urges as men, we're just better at hiding them. But occasionally, someone comes along who we can't help but get stupid over."

"Like a basketball player or a soccer star," I asked.

"For some women, yes. For others it's about more mental traits or romancing them. There is no one rule for women; unlike men, whom are fairly easy to predict in this fashion."

She stood up and moved to leave the office. I followed.

"If you'll continue to indulge me, I'd like to show you what I fully mean about lingerie. I started this shop in the early 80's and I'd hate to see its purpose lost to cheap vinyl skirts and lewd vibrators."

"Is there a not-lewd vibrator," I asked.

"Certainly. And again, the purpose of that tool is to produce an orgasm in a women. That can be accomplished with a device no larger than your thumb; but porn has given us monster size dildos that, again, only men find alluring when a woman uses them. Or when women use them on each other."

Fair point I suppose. Even if two women were using a vibrator, size isn't the determining factor in their pleasure. I was beginning to see Rebeccas points though. She wanted to sell products to women that made them feel sexy and empowered, and she didn't want that spoiled. I told her this much and she agreed.

"Still, best to finish my demonstration so you get the full meaning. And," she said, stopping at a rack of what appeared to be banana hammocks, "why this place is worth at least 25% more than you're offering."

Ah, there it was. Morgan said that Rebecca was going to angle for more money. Still, I kept my expression neutral in hearing that she wanted a buttload more cash for her business.

"As I said," she continued, flipping through the hangers of the various garments, "lingerie is about you feeling good about yourself. If others like what you look like, then that is just a bonus. It's when you look in the mirror that you get that feeling of sexiness. Even more so when you put on regular clothes over it.

"It's all about that satisfied feeling you get knowing what others don't. Like when you're a little kid; that 'I know something you don't know' feeling," she said, selecting a garment from the rack.

"Here," she said, handing it to me. It was a pair of red lycra briefs that were, pardon the pun, very brief.

"I'm not sure those will fit me," I said.

"Nonsense, they'll stretch," she said. "Besides, I'm showing you why women buy lingerie of this caliber at these prices. And men as well."

Still holding them out to me, smirking, she did make sense. I grabbed the garment from her.

"Fitting rooms are over there," she said, indicating the line of plain looking doors to the side. "Let me know if you have any questions."

I departed for the fitting room in the middle and closed it. After fumbling around for the switch in the dark, the room itself was quite large. It was the size of a small bedroom; it had a chair, a bench, and even a wide, deep shelf to put items on. The entire back wall was a mirror so you can see absolutely everything.

Looking at it, I realized that I could have at least tried to make myself a bit more fancy. My jeans had wear spots, my black long sleeve shirt had a punk band logo on it, and my hoodie had seen better days. It was little wonder why Rebecca thought what she did.

Pushing that embarrassment aside, I disrobed down to my socks and tried on the garment she gave me.

The most immediate thing I noticed is that my erection did not go down over the last 10 minutes. The empowerment of which Rebecca spoke of was indeed potent. So much so that I could not shake the thought of what the rest of Rebeccas bra looked like.

The whole thing was weird since I've had women do all kinks of crazy, slutty shit with as well as to me, and just the thought of a bra made me hard?

Thinking of past exploits still didn't help matters, and I found that tucking my erection to the side of the very tight briefs was awkward looking. Although glancing in the mirror, my ass did look fantastic. And it really was like wearing just slightly shorter boxer briefs; only shiny and red and feeling like nothing. The sensation was also not conducive to making my hard-on any less hard.

*knock *knock *knock

"Everything ok in there, Paul," Rebecca's muffled voice called through the door. I could swear I heard her smiling as she said that.

"Uh, yea, just fine," I called back. Willing my erection to go away, I tried thinking of all sorts of un-sexy things, but my brain kept coming back to that light blue bra she wore.

A few moments later, Rebecca called again.

"If you'd like some assistance, I'd be happy to help."

"I don't think that's a good idea," I called, "the embarrassment may be fatal."

"I've seen many a naked body in my years. There isn't much that will embarrass me."

"Wasn't talking about you," I said.

I heard her laugh brightly through the door.

"Let me in," she said gently, "I promise I can help. And I also promise not to tease you too much."

The way she promised not to make fun didn't help. Although, the way she said help sent a bit of electricity through me that was either nervousness or excitement. Probably both.

"All right," I said, "come in."

The door opened and Rebecca, keeping her eyes down, turned and closed the door. Turing back to me, she rose her gaze upwards, stopping only slightly less than forever on my erection predicament, until meeting my gaze eye to eye.

"You are as red as those briefs," she commented with a smirk. I shrugged but remained silent. While I was all manner of self assured, even cocky, with women I knew, this woman seemed to emit an energy that made me feel... I wasn't sure. Not guilty, or even ashamed, just disappointed that I couldn't control myself. It was a new feeling for me; like I didn't want her to be disappointed.

Rebecca glanced down again, staring at my now throbbing erection tucked badly in my very brief briefs. She took a step towards me, her hands clasped behind her back. The room was large for a changing room but she felt very, very close. Within arms reach for sure, but I wished she was closer still.