Message-ID: <59627asstr$1258614602@assm.asstr.org>
From: Bud Red <redbud@inbox.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Daydreams and Distractions 13: The Changing Room (Redbud)
Lines: 109
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 2009 02:10:02 -0500
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   Daydreams and Distractions 13: The Changing Room

   Maybe you stared a little too long at him.

   But you're lying to yourself.

   He was just a teen.  He was wearing tight jeans and his crotch was
bulging.  He had a white T-Shirt on and was holding another pair to try on
- a little Jimmy Dean.  Christ, you almost smirked when you saw him.  Your
daughter was off in another part of the mall, trying not to be seen with
her mother.  And here you are, you're trying on clothes that are sized for
your daughter.

   But he's looking at you and you like it.  In fact, maybe (right now) you
like not having your daughter around.  The boy would probably be staring at
her instead of you.  And you know exactly what he'd be thinking, the little
shit.  His cock would be harder than it already was.  He'd be thinking
about your daughter in ways that disgust you.  The way he would treat her
makes you want to slap him.  You know what they're thinking when they look
at her youthful hips and flat belly - what they want to put in it.

   But he's looking at you.

   And you should know better.

   But when the changing room empties, you don't close the door behind you,
as if you were too busy or had forgotten.  You look at him before you go
in. You meet his gaze.  You smile.  A smile that's meant to say - `I'll be
just a minute.' But that's not the smile you gave him.

   You take off your top.  Then pull on the new top.  You like how it draws
your breasts up and together.  You pull off your jeans and put on the
skirt, a tight black, outdoorsy skirt that says you like the outdoors, rock
climbing and camping.  It makes you feel hip and youthful.  You look good.
You still look thin and you turn to see your hips in the mirror.  You
notice the door is still open.

   And then you gasp.  You're surprised and not surprised!  He's in your
changing your room - behind you!  You see him in the mirror.  He closes the
door!  You suddenly feel sick to your stomach!  But you don't have time to
think about it.  He takes your hair in one hand and yanks back, drawing
your head back.  He knows you could scream at any minute.  You could have
the entire store racing to the changing room.  And even though you're sick
to your stomach, you're scared as hell, you're in control.  You have a
choice, but you know that maybe you already made your choice.

   He's not threatening you.  He's not pulling out a knife.  He's not even
covering your mouth.

   He yanks up the back of your skirt, hard.  You stifle another gasp even
as he keeps your head sharply back.

   He roughly pulls down your top (Christ, you hope he doesn't tear it -
you haven't even bought it yet!) He kicks your legs apart, like you weren't
old enough to be his mother.  He yanks down your panties until they're
stretched and tight around your thighs.  He sticks his finger in your ass
and pushes upward until you rise onto the balls of your feet.  You're
biting your lip.  Your eyes are wide and you're trying like hell not to
groan loudly.  Then, his other hand still in your hair, he bends you over,
like he wasn't half your age, like you were just another girl to fuck.

   And you *have* to bend over - his finger is still in your ass, keeping
it just where he wants it.  Then it's out.  He unzips.  He bends you
further, still holding your hair, and you stifle a loud acknowledgment as
his cock fills you quick, hard, fully and deep.  You didn't know how wet
you were!  And Jesus, he's big!

   He's fucking you fast.  There isn't time to waste.  He has a job to do
and you're it.  If you can hear his pelvis slapping against your ass,
surely *anybody* can.  But your blood is rushing in your eyes.  Your tits,
that nursed a baby, are bouncing with every thrust like they did when you
were 16.  You've never seen yourself like this.  And he's holding your head
back to make sure you do.  He makes sure you see your legs straight and
spread open, your panties stretched tightly between your knees, your back
arched and ass up for a teen-aged cock.  And his cock is big.  He's
thrusting deep.

   You try to look away.  He doesn't let you.  You see his sneer and the
pleasure he's taking.  And he makes sure you see yours.  You're cumming on
his cock, quietly, mouth open, brows knotted.  Your belly is convulsing on
the length of him, squeezing him, answering his length and width.  Then you
feel the heavy spurts of his own orgasm.  They fill you.  You arch your
belly like a cup.  You're filling and filling, then overflowing.  It's
dripping out of you, long thin strings, and into your stretched panties. 
He lets go and you fall to your knees, one hand on the floor, one on the
mirror.

   You gaze at him, at his reflection in the mirror.  He's tucking his cock
back into his jeans.  He's standing, meeting your gaze.  He's cocky, almost
preening.  He zips and you would never guess he had just fucked a woman. 
You're on your knees, your ass is still in the air, cum dripping out of
your belly and into your panties.  He leaves, and leaves you a fucked
woman. And he leaves the door cracked, just the way you left it.

   You lean your cheek against the mirror and push the door shut.

   Christ, you need to have sex with your husband.  Tonight!  You're not on
the pill!  You don't know what came over you.

   And worst of all,

   You feel

   Good.


   
-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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