Clothes shopping{hj, public}
I needed to pick up a few new work shirts so I ran over to my local chain department store this afternoon.
The store has two entrances that split the store in half, mens stuff on one side and women the other. I don’t think this is intentional, but does make it easier for me to get in and out as quickly as possible without having to walk through a useless (to me) part of the store.
Anyway, grabbed a handful of shirts (I’m not terribly choosy), but can’t find any price tags on any of the pants, so I head over to grab a pair of Levi’s.
I hate shopping for clothes, so I know ahead of time what I’m looking for. I find the 505 section, scan down, grab 36×30’s (exactly what I’m currently wearing) and make a bee line for the register before the line gets long, which seems to always be the case: no one in line when I arrive, everyone in line as I try to leave.
Luckily, however, I pass by the “sports” section and remember I need more work out gear (shorts mostly), so I veer to the right, into the racks of primarily mens clothes and pass by a woman shopping in this section.
She notices me immediately and smiles, but I think nothing of it and continue towards the back, not noticing she follows me a bit, zig zagging but definately heading to where I’m standing.
The pricing at this store is all over the place, gimmicky and annoying. 20% of the sale price of 15% and take another x% off with a scratch ticket and get back “store cash”…all just b.s. to make you feel that you’ve saved money by shopping there. All of which annoy me and distract me from the fact that this women is now browsing the same male shorts rack that I am.
She carries some shirts, and holds up the next pair of shorts in the air, and let’s out an obvious, “hmpf” as if torn between colors or size or some other facete of these shorts she can’t decide between.
“Excuse me”, she interupts.
“Hi”. I am not typically a talk-to-strangers kind of person, but I had just come from the gym and full of endorphins, so my “hi” is sincere and I smile back at her.
“I’m terribly sorry but you seem to be the same size as my husband, do you think these would fit you? I mean him?”
She holds them up in the air which is a terrible way to decide so I mutter “I guess?” but she still looks perplexed, so I offer to take them and hold them against my body. Again, “I guess”.
“He really needs a new pair but hates coming shopping. And he’d hate it even more if I brought home the wrong size”, she says in a worried voice.
“Ok…I think they’d fit but you could probably just return them…” I offer as a solution, but she hesitates and throws her eyes towards the dressing room. I get the hint.
“I guess I could try them on for you?” I ask in the most enquisitive voice I can muster.
She grabs my arm in thanks, “Oh that would be wonderful! I”m sorry to bother you so, but he really hates dealing with these things. It’s not too much bother?”
It truely isn’t since I have my own shorts to try on now, too, and I now notice she had picked out the same size I had.
“No. It’s no problem” I say as she hands them to me.
I turn and walk towards the dressing room and note that she is matching me stride for stride, but don’t notice her scanning the area for any other customers, which there are none.
These don’t specifically say “men only”, so I assume anyone could be in here, but do a quick scan and notice I am alone. Well, at least I thought I was but then notice she is still following close behind.
The room itself is fairly large, with about 10 stalls just past a set of doors. A bank of mirrors between the shopping floor and the first stall, presumably so you can change, then come back to the mirrors without needing to be back out onto the floor.
She waits on the stall side of this bank of mirrors, and to finally give myself some space, head in to about the 3 stall.
“He really hates shopping”, she presses on with her story. “Really appreciate you helping me out.”
“It’s no bother”, as I kick off my shoes. It really isn’t. I drop my pants, and try my shorts on first, which fit as expected. So I say “they fit just fine”.
“Oh, please, can I see them? He gets ever so angry”, and I notice her voice is closer than it should be.
I don’t understand why, but there are no mirrors in each stall, you have to go out there to actually see yourself in the clothes.
I feel weird standing there in my black socks, sport shorts and a heavy hooded sweatshirt, an odd combination of items and now she wants to see them?
“I think they’re fine”, I was about to say when I hear the door trying to open (I locked it out of habit of course).
“Let me just take a peak, you don’t have to come out here…” she says, nearly pleading to see them as she rattles at the door handle. She either thought I wouldn’t lock it or was exceptionally excited to see me in them.
“OK..OK…I’ll come out…” as I slide the bar over and attempt to swing the door in but find that she is not only blocking the way, but pushing herself into the stall with me.
“I wouldn’t want anyone to see”, see says. I’m not (yet) sure what it is she was trying to hide me from.
Without even looking at them, she mutters, “yeah, those look fine”. She also doesn’t notice I’m not wearing the ones she had picked up (red), but the ones I tried on first, the blue ones I picked out for myself.
“I’m not sure you’re supposed to be in here with me”, more worried about breaking store policy than being harassed by this woman.
“Oh, I’m sure no one noticed. I was very careful”, she says as if her plan was coming together nicely.
“I saw you in the store, and…” she gives up her ruse of trying to find shorts for her husband. Although she is wearing a wedding ring, I’m now not sure one even exists.
She pins me against the wall and I nearly hit my head on a hook meant for hangers. She stares at me briefly as if to give me a chance to escape, though I would have to push my way through her either way, then kisses me.
To say she kissed me “hard and fast” would be accurate, but I find that description weak. She had an agenda, and I don’t think making out was high on the list as she quickly grabbed at my crotch, rubbing me through my “new” (un-paid for yet) shorts.
She lowers her head to my neck, collar and ends on my ear, nibbling at, then biting my ear lobe as she starts in with a stream of pretty rounchy talk I wont bother to repeat word for word.
She does make her intention clear: she gets off on giving strangers hand job in dressing rooms!
I have no objection. Still pumped from working out earlier, I’m feeling rather good, and the gym I go to has its share of hot clients.
She puts one hand on my throat and starts to choke me with some effect, but her hand is too small to make much of a real threat, while the other reaches into my shorts and starts yanking me in an welcome, but awkward manner.
It is not long at all that I am rock hard in her hand and she starts to get mean, berating me for being a bad boy, and she goes on like this for a bit, seemingly working out some frustration not directed at me personally.
“You think you can cheat on me and get away with it you little asshole?” she asks. “Fuck that little bitch in my house?”
Her stream of hatred is not pointed at me, but I’m guessing her husband, and I start to guess what this is all about. I also start to not care any more as she is good at what she is doing, a few times even spit-drooling onto my cock which I’ll admit was pretty hot.
She finally lets go of my throat and grabs the other pair of shorts, getting them ready for what comes next. Her focus is back on me now, and not on what ever revenge she was imagining, and tells me to cum into the shorts so I don’t make a mess on the floor.
Once over her rage, she actually gets into it, realizing she is in a public dressing room milking some strangers cock, but by now I am about to cum so she can only enjoy the last 30 seconds or so.
She watches my cock now, careful to point me at the shorts, at the end wrapping them around my shaft and the smooth fabric actually feels quite nice. She jerks me roughly with one hand directly on my cock, and the other wrapping the shorts around the end.
I cum pretty hard, and having not had sex in a while, pretty heavily, and she wants it all, as if to prove some point.
She wipes the rest up off my cock and using the shorts, cleans her hands up, too.
“This’ll show that little fucker I can have fun, too.
I’m sorry, but I have to go. Thanks. I’m sorry, but thanks. I hope you enjoy your new clothes”, she says as she passes beyond the mirrors back into the store.
I recover, make sure that she didn’t miss cleaning up, and put my street clothes back on. As I head to the register (of course now with a long line!) I see her on the far side of the store standing in her own long line, with a pair of very dirty shorts.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ars856/shopping_for_shorthj_public