The Brush Pass

For me, that initial spark of sexual interest in a women often comes in the very first moment I see her, and it has always been so. As life goes, often there is no chance for me to find out whether we could have actually been a couple of some sort, which is frustrating. We just pass by, headed wherever we are going in our lives, with a partner or not, and never find out just how we might really connect.

Sometimes, in fact, it is a stranger who elicits the greatest excitement of all.

Sometimes, also, circumstances have brought out a side of my nature that I'm not quite sure how to evaluate. Every now and again, I like to touch a woman I don't know. I guess it might be called groping, but I don't do it unless she reacts in a way that makes me feel she enjoys it. It's happened just a few times, here and there – on a bus, train or airplane; or in a store, but when it does it is exceptionally memorable.

The other day, shopping for the holidays, it happened, for the first time in years. A younger woman dressed in faded blue jeans and an off-white sweater caught my eye as I entered a small shop across town. She was pretty, with medium length black hair and nice eyes. I glanced at her as I fingered a small imported box inlaid with ivory. She was stroking the hair of a doll made in Central America. Then, she put the doll down and moved slowly past where I was standing. As it happened, in that tight space, she turned sideways just as she passed and the back of my right hand brushed her jeans in such a way that I could feel the outline of her bottom, first one cheek, then the other. She didn't pull away at all but instead moved past very slowly, almost deliberately. I felt my pulse quicken.

She settled into another part of the store. I examined some women's clothing, keeping one eye in a mirror that allowed me to watch what she was doing. I saw her glance at me, then she crossed the room, nearer me now.

I worried she might leave, so I turned around and followed, to where she now was looking through a pile of silk scarves. I gradually worked my way around other customers, until I was quite close to her again. I saw her glance again my way. Slowly as I stepped behind her, she bent over the table, thrusting her bottom out at me. This did not seem like an accident. This time I did not use my hand but I pressed the front of my jeans against her ass and moved ever so slowly past her. My hardening penis worked across her buttocks, resting for one glorious moment between her crack, before I pulled along and settled in next to her on the other side of that table.

Now, I wanted to catch her eye, to gauge her reaction. She looked shyly at me, then away. I looked at her lips, then down at her breasts, and the front of her jeans, her legs. She suddenly looked like the loveliest creature on earth to me. I wanted nothing more than to strip off her clothes and fuck her then and there, forgetting everything either of us might be in this world, just for the chance to connect in the deepest way men and women have available to us.

Scientists say men are visual creatures, especially when it comes to the sexual hunt.

A few moments later she left this store, and soon after, so did I. She glanced back over her shoulder as she entered another store. I took my time going in there, by now my mouth was dry; and when I entered I did not see her for a while. It was a vintage clothing store, with racks of dresses and coats and blouses. Near the back were several dressing rooms, with curtains somewhat too small to cover the opening serving as doors.

I moved through the racks until I spotted her. She was in the rear, holding a short dress up against the front of her body. I thought I saw her flinch when I came into view – this time it was her looking in a mirror at me. Syncronisity. As I edged closer, she retreated into one of the stalls and pulled the curtain behind her. The curtain rocked back and forth and settled, leaving plenty of viewing space into her dressing room for me or for any other curious self. There was a mirror there as well, so I could see all of her, as she started taking off her clothes to try on the dress. First, came her sweater, wriggled over her head. She was wearing a black bra. Her back was to me as she then slipped down her jeans, revealing small white panties covering her delightful bottom. They slipped down a bit.

By this point, I was feeling vaguely guilty being the observer, but mesmerized nonetheless. I pretended to be evaluating various outfits on the racks but my eyes were riveted on her nearly naked body. Then, with her dark eyes suddenly locked into mine, she reached behind her back and undid the bar strap. Her small breasts shook free and into my view, the brown nipples so instantly suckable that I licked my lips.

My cock was already erect inside my jeans and I didn't care any longer who knew what I was up to. I strolled closer to her dressing room, she she slipped the dress over her head, and then came out of the booth. I moved up beside her and spoke for the first time: "You look devastating in that." She didn't say a word but just smiled strangely up at me.

Anyone observing us might assume we were a couple, and now, for this instant in time, I guess we were. Taking advantage of our position, out of most people's view, I just let my deeper animal instinct take over. I can't even tell you what happened first. I remember lifting the back of the dress and placing my hand on her panties, then slipping one hand inside to feel her girlish bottom, so soft and firm and smooth. She closed her eyes and moaned softly. After glancing around to make sure no one was near enough to get it, I ran both hands up under the dress and over her delightful breasts, again so soft and firm and smooth. She let me stroke her for a moment, the suddenly broke away and went back into the booth.

Somewhat in a daze and definitely confused I started to follow but then stopped. After all, I am somewhat of a gentleman. In there, she had stripped off the dress and was getting back into her regular clothes...though I noticed she stuffed the bra into her bag.

When she came out she again made eye contact and then she moved over to a corner of the store where some shelves and boxes were blocking most of the rest of the store from view. I followed her. Once there, she turned to face me. I pressed against her. She immediately turned around. I ran my hands up under her sweater and caressed her breasts, cupping them and squeezing the nipples. She moaned loudly. I worked my hands down the front and the pack of her pants and now her pussy was very wet. I tried to masturbate her, everything was happening so fast.

I touched and touched. I turned her and tried to kiss her. But then, suddenly, she broke and ran away, and out of the store. I re-arranged myself, trying to hide my swollen cock, and went out, too. But I could not find her, she had vanished.

Eventually, I went home and masturbated. I have done so every night since. Maybe I will never see her again. Where are you, and why did you leave me in this state?