"Put on your red lipstick," he says so you do. He looks left and right as you push into the changing room, all hands and laughter, avoiding the cameras.
He looks into your eyes as you're pushed tight against the wall and before you can speak his tongue is in your mouth and hands are down your pants and already you feel your naked cunt dampening.
His hands probe and your panties withdraw into your pussy lips with every kiss. Your hands grab his neck to grip tighter still, and your legs arch and thighs ache to take him there and then.
His fingers feel and slide beneath the fabric, finding your labia and playing with them, kneading and probing and finally rubbing hard circles on your hood as his tongue goes deeper still and your eyes roll into your head.
Your hand grabs his ass and then moves to the buttons of his jeans, each one popping open with what sounds like a large bang until his cock is resting in your hand, growing as the warm feel of your skin makes his head pulse with a bead of sticky precum.
There's a knock. The door of the changing room. A voice: "Hello?"
Creaky and dusty. The owner knocks again and repeats, "Hello?"
"Sorry!" you say, breathless. "Just trying some things on."
You glance at the bottom of the room and see the door is jammed tight, your feet and his not showing, as he thrusts a finger into you and your back buckles against the wall and you expose your neck to his teeth.
You grip his cock harder and pull, tug, rhythmic and tight. You take away your hand and spit on it, replace it and keep working on him as he does to you.
He takes his hand out to taste you; his favourite scent. He takes his fingers deep and you wish he was tasting you for real but his hand returns to your hole and his tongue to your mouth, the soft tang of you lingering as he begins to fuck you harder still and you moan louder still.
A tap on the door once more. "Are you sure you're okay in there?"
"Uh-huh."
"You sound in distress?"
