He would never admit it to his girlfriend Sherry, but Pat didn't mind shopping, as long as they were going to the mall. He would groan and complain, and sometimes ask a 'favor' in return, but he looked forward to the probable parade of young, attractive women.
Sherry held a floral summer dress in front of her. "Do you like this?"
Pat shrugged. "I'm not sure, sweetie, I think I would need to see it on you first." This was another white lie. Pat was quite sure he hated the dress, but was hoping Sherry would take the bait and step into the dressing room. There was a knockout blond browsing the blouses, and Pat was hoping to ogle her more thoroughly.
Sure enough, Sherry asked the salesgirl for the dressing room key. The salesgirl was a looker too, a lovely, prim brunette with dark skin and exotic features. Pat ran his eyes across her figure, but her stiff white blouse and black skirt made it difficult to appraise her properly.
There was no such problem with the blond, who wore a skyblue silk shirt. It draped her every curve and accented both her pale skin and her generous cleavage. Her pants were low-slung white linen trousers that seemed to have been tailored to flatter the flow of her hip. Her perfectly styled hair and patent-leather purse gave her an air of money, and Pat noticed that she wasn't bothering to look at any of the price-tags.
When his gaze returned to her face, he realized he had been caught. Her indignant scowl disappeared when they made eye-contact. She looked startled for a moment, then returned the blouse she was holding to the rack and approached him, a curious smile on her face.
Her face was pretty, with high cheek-bones and wide-set dark blue eyes.
"Can I ask you something?" She stopped very close to him, and Pat glanced nervously at the entrance to the dressing-rooms. No sign of Sherry.
He swallowed. "Sure."
"Are your eyes naturally so green, or do you wear contacts?"
It was Pat's turn to startle. His eyes were a muddy hazel. "They're natural, but not permanent." The words came out of his mouth automatically, and he was puzzled by them.
She looked puzzled as well, "What do you mean?"
I don't know, he thought, but instead he said, "You'll understand later. Can I ask you something?" Now Pat starting to worry. He seemed to have lost control of his speech. Ask her what?
She smiled. "Sure."
"Are those magnificent breasts natural, or did you buy them?" He braced himself for her reaction. Would she slap him or just start shouting?
Her smile grew wider, showing perfect white teeth. "What do you think?" she laughed.
Pat lifted his hands against the silk and gave her breasts a gentle but thorough grope. The flesh was soft and yielding. She sighed softly and bit her lower lip.
"They sure feel real," Pat said without pausing his massage. The impression of being controlled was fading and being replaced with a mixture of fierce arousal and a calm sexual confidence. Questions of why or how and concerns of public exposure felt distant and slightly silly. This beautiful woman was his to savor and use, right here, right now.
He began to kiss her gently, running one hand across the thin linen of her pants while the other continued to knead her soft tit. Through the fabric he could tell she was fond of lace. She returned his kisses with eagerness and hunger. He drew back for a second and met her eyes again. The look of vulnerable, almost frightened, longing on her face was a powerful aphrodisiac and his mouth fell onto hers, then began to inscribe a line of kisses toward her neck.
Opening his eyes, he saw the salesgirl practically running across the store towards them, waving her hands franticly. Her jaw hung down in shock and she seemed at a loss for words.
"Sir," she finally hissed, "Madam, you can't do that here, please..."
"Please what?" Pat stared at the girl, waiting for eye-contact. When it happened, she shuddered and released a sound, too high-pitched to be a moan, too deep for a whimper.
"Please, can I help you?" Other than her breathy tone, she could have been asking to ring up a purchase or look for a shirt in another size.
"Yes, I think you can. I am trying to discover whether or not this woman's tits are the product of surgery. Feel them and tell me what you think." At that Pat returned to the rain of kisses he was pouring on the delicate neck of the blond, whose body slumped against his as if threatening collapse or signifying surrender.
The salesgirl slid her arms beneath the woman's and cupped her bust line in her palms, lifting the healthy juggs slightly as if trying to guess their weight. "It's hard to tell through this bra." Her fingers immediately began to unbutton the silk blouse. By the time she was ready to pull the flimsy garment from the blond's body, however, the blond's hands had found and extracted Pat's erection.
Pat leaned back slightly, admiring the view of pale and perfect d-cup breasts. Unlike many blonds he had met, the woman showed almost no tan. The dark hands of the salesgirl contrasted sharply against the blond's aristocratic skin, caressing and gently pinching her rosy nipples.
Pat looked down at the hand stroking his cock, and relished the delicious softness of her fingers.
Reaching out he caught one of the salesgirl's hand and slid it downward, across the blond's belly towards her waist.
"Open her pants," he hissed, and watched her deftly pop the button and lower her zipper one-handed then slide her fingers under the lace panties, her other hand still teasing the stiff nubbin of the blond's sweet tit.
Pat quickly dropped his own jeans to the floor, thankful that he seldom wore underwear. He didn't want the amazing hand-job to stop for even a moment ... unless it was to move to something even better. A blow job? A lesbian show? It was strange how relaxed and in control he felt.
Looking around the shop he realized the store was far from empty, but the other customers were still shopping, paying no attention to the scene unfolding in the corner. Then he caught the eye of one customer, a young lady of 19 or so with light brown hair and a pair of thick-framed glasses that gave her a studious look. What she was studying at the moment was Pat and the two women, her mouth slightly open and silent. Pat's view was obstructed by a dress rack, but he could tell she was masturbating vigorously.
Pat felt his balls twitch, and knew he would be building to cum soon - too soon. He stopped the blond's hand and pinched the tip of his dick. He could feel it deflate slightly then swell up again. The feeling of urgency was gone.
"Kneel down," he told the blond. "And you...," he looked towards the salesgirl, reading her name tag, "Kaila. Just stand there and watch."
The blond began kissing the pink head as soon as it came even with her lips, cooing and licking it occasionally.
"Do you like my cock?" he asked.
