Walt and Rhonda

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story contains scenes of extramarital and unprotected sex. If that's not for you, please move on to another fine story on this site.

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Rhonda had been shopping for over an hour now, not because she wanted to, or because she was having a great shopping trip, or because she was trying to find the right thing and struggling. No, it was because early in her trip she noticed a man watching her. Thinking he might be security in one store she changed stores, to a dress shop further down the mall, and when she came out of the dressing room she saw the same man, back in the racks, watching her while he pretended to browse.

Well, she wasn't going to be stalked, not by this guy or anyone else, and if there was a place to confront him, it was in a public area. So she pretended to shop for additional items, glancing at him surreptitiously as she moved around, slipping out of his sight while he had his head down, trying to hide that he was looking at her. From behind a rack she saw him looking where she had been before, and made her move to come up behind him, in a main aisle, with people around.

As she approached she took a momentary pause, getting a good look in the event she needed to describe him later, seeing the size of him more closely. Six-two, easy, with broad shoulders; if this went badly he could easily overpower her. She stepped quietly closer, and stood behind him, outside his arm's reach, maintaining a safe distance.

"Why are you stalking me?" she asked confrontationally. The man spun to face her, and she took the opportunity to study his face and clothing. Well dressed, striped button shirt and khakis, balding head shaved, clean, strong jaw, thin nose, green eyes. Not bad, for a stalker, she mentally evaluated.

"Oh, my God, I'm sorry," he stuttered and stumbled, "I didn't mean to -- I wasn't stalking, I swear, I was just, I, uh, please, don't be alarmed." She watched him fumble his apology and stood with her fist planted at her hip, eyeing him doubtfully as shoppers passed by.

"Not stalking? Really?" she said loud enough to turn heads.

"Oh, no," he pleaded, glancing around as people heard and stared. He backed away, hands raised, palms open and facing her. "Really, I meant no harm, honest, miss, I really didn't, I can explain."

To Rhonda, he seemed genuinely contrite, but she wasn't ready to let her guard down. "Okay, then," she said, shifting her pending purchases to her other hand, and looking him in the eye, but getting no closer, figuring that if he was really stalking her, he'd have already moved off, "Explain yourself."

"I, uh-m," he began, glancing around at passing shoppers, "well, I," he dropped his head. "I was shopping for a dress, something nice, and I, well," he paused and swallowed nervously, "well, I really don't know anything about fashion, or dresses, and I thought I could get some tips, watching you. I uh-m," he hesitated, "I thought if I asked, you'd think I was crazy, or, well, stalking you, or something."

"I kinda think that now," she interjected smartly.

"Yes, yes, I understand, please, miss, I meant no harm, really."

It's Mrs., actually," she said, shifting her weight to her other foot, her hips moving. "Why me? Of all the women shopping, why me?"

He hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. "Oh, that, well," he explained. "You seemed like the youngest one with sensible, tasteful fashion sense." His eyebrows rose hopefully with his explanation.

"Nonsense," she countered, "there are plenty of younger girls shopping here, and-"

"Oh, yes, of course," he interrupted, "but they are too young, and are looking at young girls things," he said, taking a step forward, and Rhonda took one backwards, matching him, and holding her hand up. "Okay, sorry," he said, his shoulders slumping. "You see, I'm trying to buy a dress for my daughter; I'm a single dad, and she's young, like the girls shopping, and she can pick those types of clothes on her own," he explained. "But she's turning eighteen, and I wanted to get her a young woman's dress, something with class and style, but not matronly, but I really don't know that much about it," he rambled, "and I saw you, and you seem to be closer to her age, and were looking at more elegant selections-"

"You think I'm eighteen?" she asked, grinning against her will. It was a good story, but he wasn't off the hook yet, though if it was true, she didn't want to make him squirm. At least not a lot.

""Oh, no, not eighteen, no," he stammered, "Older than that, but young still, and fashionable, and with good taste."

"Careful with the older." She smirked, and he smiled at her. A good, healthy, friendly smile. The kind you can't fake. Her hesitance slipped a little.

"Sorry, no, not much older, thirty maybe? But like I said, fashionable; you carry yourself well, confident, well dressed, and you were looking at the type of dresses I imagined for my daughter."

"Your Ex wouldn't help you?"

"No," he said, eyes softening, losing his panic, "no, she died, almost ten years ago." Rhonda felt embarrassment at her assumption, and it must have showed. "No, it's okay; it was a long time ago. My daughter and I, well, we have each other, and that's enough. But like I said, she's turning eighteen, and I wanted to get her something nice, elegant, a Young Woman's Dress." She could hear the capitalization in his words.

Rhonda looked at him, and assessed his sincerity. She looked at the dresses in her hands. And glanced at her watch. Plenty of time until Walt finished helping his friend move furniture, which was why she was shopping alone in the first place. She'd have much rather spent the day with him, home, or out, just being together and maybe making slow, luxurious love in the afternoon. Instead she was talking to Not A Stalker about his daughter.

"Seriously, Mrs., uh-m"

"Call me Rhonda."

"Thanks for understanding, Rhonda, really, I'm sorry if I frightened you," he said, taking a tentative step forward, and she didn't retreat this time. "It's Frank, Frank Langdon. I can give you my address if you're still concerned, really, I meant no harm." He sighed. "I just wanted to do something nice for my daughter. She really has no grown female influence, and I wanted to-"

"All right," she cut him off, and looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "I'll tell you what. Let me get these paid for, and we can talk about it. Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh, sure."

"Great, she said, putting her hand out to shake his. "I'll take that address anyway, but let me check out these dresses, and then you can buy me lunch, and we can discuss your daughter's fashion, and see if we can help out a nice Dad. Okay?"

For the next hour and a half they sat and ate and talked, and she got to know a little more about Frank, and his life raising his daughter, and their relationship. With her initial suspicions long faded, she found herself listening to his stories, enjoying his company, and halfway through the meal, switching from compassionate caring tolerance to beginning to like him. The second half of the meal she spoke of Walt, their lives together (leaving out their current penchant for adventurous sex) and then began asking about his daughter, her likes and dislikes, so she could better determine what type of dress to look for. When the meal was done she led him to another store, and she made some selections.

She was holding up some dresses for him to examine, and was waiting for him to agree or disagree. He looked at her helplessly.

"Rhonda," he explained, "if Walt can do this, then he's a better man than me. My wife used to do this to me, too," he said. "She'd hold up a dress or blouse, and all I can see is a bunch of fabric. I just don't have the woman's eye to see it as it would be, worn."

"Men," she shook her head, laughing, "it's a wonder you can dress yourselves."

"Sorry, I have to see it on."

"Well, you can't surprise her if you bring her shopping and make her try it on."

"Could you try it on?"

"Men," she repeated. "You know I am not built like an eighteen year old girl."

"Oh, no, I know, you're bigger than-"

"Be careful with the bigger, Frank," she warned good-naturedly. "It's like telling a woman she's old!"

He laughed. "No, I mean you're a similar shape and body type, but, well, fuller." She eyed him cautiously, but smiling. "But if you found it in your size, I could get an impression of how it looks and falls."

"Seriously? You want me to model dresses for you?" She pretended irritation, but was secretly enjoying the compliment. "It's not what I had in mind when I said I'd help you."

"Please, Rhonda, I'd really appreciate it, it would be a great help."

She hesitated, but only for effect. She'd already decided, and part of her was looking forward to showing off her figure in nice dresses to an appreciative male eye. "Well," she drew out her answer, "I guess I could."

They set out to find her selections in her size, Rhonda being secretive about what size she was. They found three of the four, and she went to the dressing room while he waited politely outside. Inside she stripped, and slipped on the first one. A nice subdued red (not whorish red) with a hem higher on one side than the other. It was a little snug around the bust. As she dressed she considered Frank, and his easy manner. He wasn't classically handsome or sexy in a Hollywood way, and he was older than her, at least ten years, she thought. And nice counted for a lot. His desire to bring up his daughter the right way, his dedication and love for her, his polite but un-wimpy manner, all added to his attraction. And, she thought, he had an appreciation for her figure, and was about to see her mostly dressed up, in an elegant gown.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and immediately wished she'd worn stockings and heels to do the dress justice. Nonetheless, she liked the way she looked, and stepped back out to the floor. As she came out she saw his eyes widen and look her up and down.

"Wow," he admired, "you look great in that."

"Thanks," she said, feeling a rush at the compliment, "but it's not for me, it's for your daughter, so imagine it on her." She stood on tiptoes. "She'd be in heels, so, more like this." she took a few steps on her toes.

"It's very nice, it, uh, falls nicely," he said, "But maybe a little too much leg." She saw his eyes looking at her. "But yours look great," he added quickly.

"Good cover, Frank," she laughed, settling back down on her flats, "but thanks anyway."

"Oh, no, I meant that; you have great legs. I just mean it's too much leg for what I was thinking."

"I understand. Let's try the black one." She turned and walked past him back into the dressing rooms, and briefly wondered how her ass looked, and if Frank would notice, and maybe like it.

Inside she stripped off the red dress and began pulling on the black one. As she looked at herself in the mirror, pulling the dress down and smoothing it, she felt a tingle developing inside her, and recognized it as a desire to show herself, to be looked at and appreciated. And for the first time she allowed for the possibility that she might enjoy Frank seeing more of her, maybe ALL of her, later in the day. The thought sent chills through her, and her nipples hardened a little, pushing inside her bra. She checked her look, and with dismay and a little twinge inside, realized that this one was a very formfitting and also exposed a lot more skin.

Thin spaghetti straps held a top that revealed a good amount of cleavage, and the hem, while straight, was shorter overall than the last, falling only to mid-thigh. A good portion of her bra showed, not just the straps, but the tops of the cups, and a half turn showed the snug fit on her butt revealing her panty lines. The thought of this stranger, this pleasant and polite (and not unattractive) man seeing her underwear was a little titillating. But the dress looked awful this way, and she had a more exciting thought. She slipped the straps down, her fingers trembling suddenly at the excitement of doing something so daring, so naughty. And she unclipped and removed her bra, tossing it on her pile of clothes. She pulled the top back up and checked herself in the mirror. Much nicer, she thought, but the idea of Frank seeing her, and realizing she was now braless enticed her, sparking her imagination.

She felt a flush of excitement, like dressing for a date, wanting to look good for her man, and she thrilled silently at the idea of showing herself off to a strange set of eyes, in public. She turned to check her butt, and her growing excitement challenged her. Filled with daring and a sense of something else -- exposure? Submission? -- she slipped her hands up her hips, under the hem, and hooked her thumbs in the sides of her panties and wriggled them off, watching her hips moving in the mirror. She saw them appear from under the dress, and felt she was doing a little striptease, and wondered naughtily if she should have done this outside, in front of Frank. The idea frightened and thrilled her, imagining his eyes watching her pull her panties down her thighs. Her pussy tingled and moistened, and she noted a wet spot on the gusset, and made sure she tucked them inside her other clothes.

Another look in the mirror revealed the fabric stretched tight across her smooth, firm ass, and substantial cleavage exposed in the front. It also showed her hardening nipples pushing out, and she started liking her look, her sexy, naughty wanton-but-classy look. She took a few breaths, anticipating the thrill of stepping outside for his eyes, and for anyone else walking by, and felt her pussy react. She trembled a little, and rose up on her toes to walk out on the floor.

Damn, she felt incredibly naughty and excited; just those few trembling steps out to the floor making her feel completely exposed!

When she came out he was there, and she watched his eyes open wide and his mouth drop open, and then slowly change to a lecherous, sly smile, his eyes crinkling tightly as he took in her appearance. She blushed, and thrilled at her minor embarrassment, and her skin tingled at his admiration. Damn, this was exciting, and her bare, shaved pussy dribbled a little. She trembled a little, imaging a passing shopper seeing her drip on the floor. His eyes settled on her chest, seeing her cleavage, the inside of each globe exposed to his gaze, and on her toes, she did a little spin, hearing him sigh. Did he know I have no panties on?

"God, you're gorgeous!" he exclaimed. "I knew you looked good, but damn, Rhonda!" He took her arm, turning her to face him. "You look outstanding! That dress was made for you!"

She blushed again, feeling her erect nipples poking out. In her sexual adventures with other men she'd enjoyed them seeing her naked, but that had been during sex, as they prepared to share their bodies with each other. This was so different, showing herself, in public, to a stranger, allowing him to see her half exposed, aroused, and feeling deliciously naughty at his admiration of her. She looked into his face, seeing his obvious lust, and feeling herself return his look. She knew she could have him, and the knowledge made her bold. She pushed her shoulders back.

"It is cut low in the front," she said plainly, "so I took off my bra."

"I, uh, can see that," he replied slyly.

She stepped closer and lowered her voice. "My panty line was showing, too," she whispered, "so I took them off as well." She heard him gasp with surprise, and thought for a second she'd gone too far, until he grinned.

"You little minx," he said, craning his neck to see her backside. "Does your husband know what a dirty girl you are?" He stepped into her, leaning into her ear. "What would he think of you, standing naked under this revealing dress in front of a total stranger?"

She glanced around, seeing no one near them, and took a step back. "Actually," she said softly, "he'd want me to do this," and she moved her hands to the hem of her dress, slowly, making sure his eyes followed her fingers, and pulled up the front, briefly, flashing her shaved glistening lips to him. A deep thrill ran through her. Showing her cunt to him was so exciting, She thought of his cock, imagined it inside her, fucking her.

And she imagined Walt, watching her, seeing her fuck another man. Her legs trembled as her pussy gushed and she dropped the hem, smoothing the dress back down.

He was grinning broadly now. "Unbelievable," he said, "Really? He stepped to her, and touched her arm. "You are remarkable, Rhonda. Sexy, attractive; so -- alive." His hand on her arm sent shivers through her, and her nipples hardened more. "So generous and giving."

"Well," she told him, placing a hand softly on his chest, feeling the tension in his body, sensing his urgency and desire, "we have another dress to try on, but if your afternoon is open, you might find out just how generous and giving I can be." She craned her head up and kissed him, lightly, and the cheek, and heard his intake of breath. "But first, what about this dress?"

"It's perfect," he said, "but for you, not for my daughter." He shook himself as she stepped back, glancing nervously around. "I can't imagine her in it, especially after seeing you, you know, like this."

"Okay, maybe the last one, then," she said. "And your schedule?"

"Wide open."

She grinned, embarrassed and elated at her daring behavior, and winked at him before going back inside. Before slipping out of the dress, she grabbed her cell and dashed off a quick text to Walt.

HOPE UR ALMOST DONE. GET HOME IN ABOUT AN HOUR IF YOU WANT TO WATCH

She pressed send and slipped the dress off, standing naked in the dressing room. She slipped the last one on, a beautiful deep blue. The fabric felt wonderful on her bare skin, and she reviewed herself in the mirror. Much more conservative, but still very elegant, she felt this was more what he was looking for, and stepped out proudly. As she walked up to him, she stood on her toes again, pretending to be in heels.

"Oh, that's it, that's the one."

"I knew it, as soon as I saw it in the mirror," she confirmed. She checked the price tag. "It's the most expensive, but definitely worth it." She pointed to the rack. "See if you can find one in her size, while I change."

Inside the dressing room she checked her phone, finding a text back.

WILL RUSH! JUST COME INSIDE?

Her excitement stepped up a notch, and she thought before typing.

NO. GO TO DWNSTRS PATIO. WILL MK SURE WE R VISIBLE! XOXO

When she came out she saw that Frank had found the blue in his daughter's size, but before Rhonda could drop her selections in the discard pile he grabbed the black one.

"What are you doing? That'll never fit her."

"I'm buying it for you. For being so nice, and pleasant and helpful to a struggling Dad."

"That's not necessary, and it's very expensive," she said stepping into him, and slipping her hand to the front of his pants, hidden beneath the dresses. "And don't think buying me a nice dress will make me have sex with you," she whispered, "'cause I'm doing that without the dress!" She leaned up, and kissed him, on the lips this time. "And thank you, Frank."

They checked out, and forty minutes later Frank was pulling into her driveway behind her. She led him inside, wondering idly if the neighbors would see her walking into her house with a strange man, and what they would think. She wondered what she would have thought before she and Walt had started playing around. She doubted that her first thought would have been sexual. As she unlocked the door her heart skipped a beat and her pussy tingled again, at her daring, walking straight into her front door with a man that she would fuck, in the middle of the afternoon, in her own house. And her husband would watch her! What a scandal if the neighbors ever knew!