Tis the Season
I fought my way through the teeming crowds at the mall, inwardly disappointed that I had chosen to subject myself to the hell that is Black Friday shopping. It was 4:30, after work, and a sea of people milled through the mall, some wandering aimlessly and others marching with a purpose in search of specific items to cross off their Christmas lists. I was one of those, in search of the Bigfoot of toys, an elusive scooter that my nephew simply couldn't live without. I had volunteered to help out my single-mom sister by tracking down the toy for her while she worked two jobs to pay for it. Unfortunately the hunt had proved much more difficult than expected. Though I didn't really think I'd find it on the craziest shopping day of the year, I decided I should at least try since she really couldn't afford the toy without a discount.
I had tried several likely stores without luck, and was about ready to give up by 5:00. I wanted to get home in time to make supper for my husband, whose work had kept him so busy that I rarely saw him of late. I could only hope he would actually make it home for the wonderful meal I planned to make him. I had seen so little of him in fact, that I couldn't remember the last time we had made love, or even fooled around. Pushing aside those thoughts, I recommitted myself to the hunt, hoping against hope that the fourth time would be the charm in the busy mall.
I held no high hopes as I entered the store, seeing a swathe of empty shelves in several toy aisles. The store was so emptied out that it wasn't even busy, and even the employees looked bored. I turned down the aisle for bikes and scooters anyway, and was dismayed to see an empty rack where the one I wanted should be. As I started to turn away, a box caught my eye. Up high on the top shelf, in bright blue letters, I saw the chimera: a Razor A Kick Scooter, brand new and still in the box (some assembly required). As I walked towards it, I saw a man come around the corner at the other end of the aisle. Time moved in slow motion as I saw the disappointment register on his own face at the sight of the empty rack. I willed him to move on, but to my dismay, he looked up, and saw the same miraculous box I had. Before I could call out a official "Dibs!" aloud, he reached up, and with the tips of his fingers, began to bring the box down.
"Excuse me!" I said, in a minor panic. "I was actually just about to get that."
He looked at me in confusion. "Well... uh, obviously so was I."
"I know," I argued feebly. "but I did see it first."
"And I touched it first." He said, stubbornness entering his voice.
Quickly seeing that I wasn't going to convince him my taking my current tact, I began to explain to him the trouble I had gone through already to locate this particular toy, and how much it would mean to my sister and her son if he let me have it. Despite what I thought was a compelling and sympathetic story, I saw his eyes begin to glaze over while I told it, and caught him taking a rather unsubtle peek at me, up and down. Glancing down myself, I became very aware of our close proximity, and actually faltered as I noticed an unmistakable lump in the front of his pants. Both horrified and a little flattered, I reminded myself that I was a married woman, and began to sum up my five-point argument for why I should get the toy.
Little did I realize the day this particular guy had been through already. My pleas were falling on deaf ears, as he contemplated nothing but bending me over and fucking me in all manner of positions. Unfortunately for my convincing arguments, the poor man had been teased by his own wife all day with promises of sexual favours later; promised which history had proven to be likely to fall through when the moment came. She had even gone so far as to coax him into entering her briefly before he left the house on his shopping errand, bending over the end of their bed as she changed out of her gym clothes. He had pummelled her, trying to finish as quickly as he could, before they were inevitably interrupted by the sounds of fighting between their kids downstairs. Without a second thought, his wife had pulled herself away and rushed down to be the peacekeeper. Resigned, angry, and filled with pent up horniness, he had zipped up and stormed out of the house, knowing that by the time he made it home she would have developed a headache or other convenient symptom to avoid the deep dicking he desperately needed to give her. Needless to say, he was in no mood to play the sympathetic benefactor.
