Girl's Day Out

Six months ago my good friend Amy went through a messy divorce. She was having a really rough time at first, depressed and crying a lot. Jill, one of our close girlfriends, and I felt that Amy needed to get her out of her house, so we began organizing "girl's day out" dates. The three of us would get together, usually once a week, at one of the local malls and grab some lunch. We'd talk and vent and sometimes shop.

Amy's rough stretch didn't last very long though and as she came out of her funk, her whole attitude toward life changed. It was like she'd been un-caged. I've known Amy for many years and I've always thought of her as beautiful. Before the divorce though, like with so many of us thirty-something mothers, she'd let the demands of life and family take their toll on her, both physically and mentally. After the divorce she joined a gym, started eating better and after a while began dressing more stylishly. Looks aren't everything, but most of us know that when we look good we feel good. The slimmed-down and sexier Amy walked and talked with confidence. She laughed and smiled more easily; she seemed more alive. The change was remarkable and I have to admit that I was a little bit jealous.

The purpose and dynamic of our girl dates changed along with Amy. They became more about Jill and me experiencing the single life again through Amy and less about Amy needing a shoulder to cry on.

I remember the afternoon when Jill and I listened intently as Amy recounted, in lurid detail, her first post-divorce sexual encounter. The three of us had shared sexual secrets and fantasies before, but something about the rawness of that story affected me. It awakened something in me that I hadn't felt in years. I rushed home after that girl date and brought myself to orgasm three times with my vibrator. Later that night, when the kids were in bed, I practically raped my husband.

When Jill and I talked the following day she confessed that, like me, she'd been so excited by Amy's story that she'd masturbated when she got home. I know Amy knew what kind of effect she was having on us and I think she enjoyed it.

As the months progressed Amy's exploits became more and more outrageous. I looked forward to hearing each new tale, but some of them were truly unbelievable. Jill and I suspected that she was embellishing them just to get more of a reaction from us.

One afternoon while we were all at lunch, Jill scoffed and called "bull-shit" on one of Amy's more scandalous stories about a young latin bartender and what he'd done with a shot-glass. Amy's reaction to the rebuff was not what I expected. She seemed genuinely hurt that we might think she'd been exaggerating things.

"Do you guys really think I'm making this stuff up?" Amy asked.

Jill and I avoided eye contact with her. Neither of us wanted to hurt her feelings further, but neither of us could say with a straight face that we believed her either.

"You do think I'm lying." Amy said.

"Amy it's just that---"I began but Amy cut me off.

"I swear I've never made any of the stuff I've told you guys up." Amy's voice was imploring. "Things are different today than they were when we were in college. Or maybe I'm the one that's different, I don't know. All I know is that before, guys never responded to me the way they do now."

It was undeniable that Amy had become sexy in a way that she hadn't been before. Even still, some of her stories were just ridiculous; like she'd taken them straight from the pages of a trashy paperback.

"All I needed was a little confidence and to start putting myself out there. Once I'd done that, I realized that I really held all the power. And girls, it's not just me. You guys could do these things I'm telling you about just as easily. Listen, if an attractive woman shows a guy even a little attention, it's like he turns back into an adolescent. Men can't help themselves."

When she put it that way I began to doubt my doubts. Men were just grown-up boys after all and a lot of Amy's stories would have been right at home in a teenage boy's overactive imagination.

"I'll show you how easy it is." Amy said getting up from the table. Jill and I exchanged worried glances, but we got up and followed her out of the food court and through the mall.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see, just bare with me for a minute." Amy replied. She led us into the Nordstrom's where we casually strolled from department to department. When we got to the men's suit area Amy stopped and turned to us. "Okay, see that salesman over there?"

Jill and I both nodded. The salesman was a good looking kid, with dark hair, probably in his early twenties.

"I've never met him before, but I'll bet you both that I can get him to go down on me right here in the store." Amy said.

"Are you crazy?" Jill squealed. "What are we even doing in here? Let's go."

I was skeptical too; it was a big claim, but I was also curious, and I wanted to see what Amy could do. "What are we betting?" I asked.

"I don't know. We can figure that out later. Here's the plan. I'll go talk to the salesmen. While I've got him distracted, you two sneak into the dressing room and hide in the stall furthest from the entrance."

"This is crazy." Jill said again.

We watched from behind a rack as Amy went and engaged the salesman in conversation. The store was pretty deserted and he seemed happy to have somebody to help. Before long he and Amy were laughing. I could see Amy flirting with him, lightly touching him on the shoulder and leaning in close. Grabbing Jill by the arm, I slalomed through the racks of suits and into the men's dressing room.

I felt a little rush as we entering the dressing room. It felt so naughty to be sneaking into a place we weren't supposed to be. Bending down, I checked to see if we were alone in the dressing room. When I was certain that we were I pulled Jill into the farthest stall. We stood in the center of the changing room smiling and giggling under our breaths like two schoolgirls.

We didn't have to wait long before we heard feet shuffling down the corridor toward us. I heard Amy whisper to the salesman, "No this one" just before the door to the stall next to the one we were hiding in opened. Amy and the salesman entered the stall and locked the door behind them. Loud sloppy kissing began immediately. Oh I remembered those days, I thought. Then I heard a belt being unclasped followed by a zipper.

"Don't worry honey we'll get to that. But first I need you to warm me up." Amy cooed to her salesman.

Jill and I smiled at one another then got down on the floor so that we could look under the divider. Amy's panties were on the floor and I could tell from the way her feet hung in midair that she was sitting on the little bench with her legs up and spread. The salesman's shoes had been kicked off and his pants were bunched around his ankles. As we watched he squatted down giving us a nice view of his firm ass and tanned muscular thighs. I was disappointed that he hadn't ditched his tighty whities before squatting down though. His position made it obvious that he had his face buried between Amy's thighs. So we had audio confirmation of what was going on because the salesman ate pussy as noisily as he kissed. He must have been decent at it though, because before long Amy began to moan.

Jill punched me lightly on the shoulder. I was a little annoyed at her interruption but the look on her face was priceless. "Oh my god!" She mouthed silently. "I can't even get my husband to do that." I smiled back and nodded my agreement.

Within a few minutes Amy's breaths were coming in short ragged bursts, and I knew she was getting close to climax. When she came her convulsing body shook the bench seat and rattled the partition between the stalls. It was amazing how well she controlled herself. If that had been me the whole store would have heard me cum.

"Oh god you're good at that." Amy told the salesman, still out of breath. "Your turn stud. Why don't you get behind me."

Amy stood up and bent over at the waist, supporting herself with her hands on the bench. The salesman wasted no time taking her from behind. The rhythmic slap, slap of flesh on flesh began and the sweet musty smell of sex began to permeate the air.

I could feel my pussy getting aroused and I wanted desperately to play with her, but Jill was in the stall with me. I looked over to where Jill had been, but she was no longer on the floor next to me. She was sitting on the bench with one hand down the front of her jeans and the other tweaking a nipple through her blouse. The denim fabric over her mound moved and heaved as her fingers worked her pussy furiously in tight circles. Her eyes were shut and her mouth was halfway open, stuck in a silent scream.

I'd only seen another woman masturbate in dirty movies before. It surprised me how different Jill's technique was from my own and how turned on I was getting from seeing her play with herself.

The sound of balls slapping against pussy in the stall next-door began to slow and the salesman's grunts got louder. I looked back under the partition but the real action was out of my sight line. I wanted a better view, so I lowered my head right down to the floor and inched as close to the partition as I dared. From the reflection in the other stall's mirror, I could see a side view of Amy's body. Her sundress was gathered up on her back and her flawless hips and ass were exposed. The young stud had a tight grip on her hips and his bareback cock was disappearing into her from behind over and over again. Each time he withdrew his veined shaft glistened with their combined juices and each time he slammed back into her, Amy's whole body rocked forward.

The salesmen's legs tensed and with one final thrust he buried his cock as far as it would go. He exhaled as he held his pelvis tight against Amy's ass cheeks for several long moments, filling her with cum. When he pulled out of her kitty, a large glob of spent cum dripped from between her spread legs and onto the floor. It was the hottest thing I'd ever witnessed.

I couldn't savor the sight for long though, because on the bench next to me, Jill began to cum and she wasn't nearly as discreet as Amy had been. Jill howled and dropped the F-bomb as wave after wave of pleasure swept over her.

With the relative silence of the fitting room shattered the salesman panicked. He sputtered and swore and nearly fell over. "It's okay." Amy tried to tell him. "It's just my friends." She was laughing so hard while she said it though, that it didn't do anything to calm the poor kid. He rushed from the fitting rooms with his shoes in hand.

That night I would have done just about anything my husband asked, sexually at least. But for all his complaining about not getting it enough, he never takes advantage of me when I want him too. It's frustrating. In the end I had to practically force him to fuck me, and even then he was only good for one ride. I finished myself of twice more in the shower.