I own a specialty women's apparel store in Dallas called Les is Mor. It's a play on the old Bauhaus/Mies van der Rohe design adage that Less is More, but with the spelling its message dictates. It also reflects the kind of clothing I sell. As applied to the female figure, Les cover is Mor interesting. Mor exciting. Mor tantalizing. Mor arousing. I don't carry anything that isn't most of the way to scandalous. The skimpier it is, the quicker it sells.
Les is Mor is the only tenant in the building I also own. Some sort of mumbo jumbo legal shit separates the building from the store although I am the sole owner of each. Location, location, location helps, and mine is about a mile north of downtown. Very nice apartment district. The most exclusive gentlemen's clubs are close. The money in Dallas is north. The store's isolation keeps kids just developing an interest from sticking their nose against the window. This alone should be enough to separate us from the mall-addicted Victoria's Secret chain, but I can't seem to dissociate us. I even have warning labels posted on the door. No minors, X-rated, occasional nudity and language, yada, yada, yada. Probably worthless but so far (knuckles rap my wooden head) there haven't been any holy rollers trying to shut us down. This man's store is his castle, and if the king edicts that Les is Mor inside his castle, well….
My largest clientele are dancers. No, not ballet and not ballroom and not any type that you do with a member of the opposite sex. These dancers used to be called strippers, or in posh clubs ecdysiasts, but now most of them take offense if I don't ask them about their dancing. Hell, I don't want to disparage their dancing. Many of them do dance extremely well, but guys don't pay to watch them dance. Men want to see their tits, their asses, their cunts. Even those who can't move their feet to match the steady beat of a bass drum can hold a job if they look good enough.
Since I am in the store almost all the time, I designed it to suit my purposes. No, there are no see-through mirrors or hidden cameras. I don't need them. These girls like to show off, and I just provide a venue that halfway legitimizes it outside the strip joint, um sorry, gentlemen's club. They all make great money and they all dress nicely. In this case, nicely means both expensively and revealingly.
The openings to the four changing rooms in my fine establishment face the sales counter. I am a fixture on my throne behind that counter. Two walls in each changing room have full-length mirrors. Naturally I can see these two mirrored walls from my throne. There are no doors on the dressing cubicles. I personally selected the curtains that pull across the openings. The material is white gauze that would be illegal for a dress worn in public. The curtain is so narrow it lacks about 6" from stretching across the entire opening and it is so short there is an 18" gap on the bottom. Silhouettes, reflections, visual innuendoes and translucent gauze provide a continually charged atmosphere. Spending sixty or seventy hours a week here is a labor of lust.
Most of the dancers seem to enjoy the built in exposure when they try on the clothes that men love to peek down, up or through. They recognize the store was designed so I could watch them, and they usually tease and tantalize me with a sexy grin. At worst they humor me. Dancers understand how deep the root of sexual desire goes in men; and catering to that need is, after all, the business they are in.
While dancers make up the bulk of my business, about 40% of my sales are to the girl next door. Unconnected single girls, girlfriends, and wives are considerably less comfortable using my changing booths. The exposure that induces a blush of embarrassment and shame usually generates the alter ego as well: a heady rush of excitement and arousal. All the key indicators that the nervous system has been activated are present when these girls exit the cubicles. Rapid breathing, reddened skin, racing pulse, blood pressure up, adrenaline pumping, erectile tissue responding. Which emotion dominates the activation? Does it matter? The girls are excited, and they remember the experience. My changing rooms have been the setting for many erotic dreams and bedtime fantasy scenarios. When these "innocents" visit a second time, the exposures are longer, clearer, and often targeted at a male shopping companion who wasn't with them the first time.
While I admit that 99% of the store design reflects my desire to see beautiful naked girls, it has proven to be an effective design to prevent shoplifting. As much as these gorgeous girls make, they still steal if they can. Even a tiny purse can hold some of the sheer panty and bra sets, and large purses can hold most of the items I sell. I'm good at catching them and even better at getting them to pay for it rather than just give it back. I've threatened to call the police a couple of times when girls refused to open their purses, but I've never had to follow through. My changing room design makes it nearly impossible for them to shoplift by wearing unpaid-for-clothes out the door. I can see what they took off and what they put on, and I remember stuff like that despite concentrating more on the interval between the two events.
I also have a single fitting room back of the sales counter. It does have a real door with a lock, an elevated platform to assist in alterations, full-length mirrors on all four walls and the ceiling, and a couch for me to take an occasional nap. It is relatively soundproof, which I originally specified to enable me to sleep. The soundproofing has come in handy for more sensual reasons many times, as has the couch. The mirrors fascinate girls who like to show off, and they are like Spanish Fly to girls who have never seen themselves being fucked.
Usually I have two sales assistants working with me, but sometimes I schedule as many as four into my relatively large store. It has been my privilege and my unending delight to hire only young, gorgeous, sexy girls who like to wear the clothes I sell. It would be a shame to put little nametags on them to spoil the effect of the clothing, so I have a large sign behind the counter that says "Sales Assistants for Sales Assistance". I like the fact that assistants and assistance are pronounced identically, so when it is spoken it sounds stupid and redundant whereas if it's read silently it makes perfect sense. I send each girl I hire to a quality portrait photographer friend of mine, and a 16" x 20" portrait with the girl's first name affixed on a large bronze nameplate is hung under the sign when the girl is working.
This $300 investment in a high-quality portrait that presents each girl as an incredibly beautiful young woman pays tremendous dividends. All the customers in the store can match my beautiful salesgirls with the pictures on the wall, and I think it fosters a more friendly and personal ****** atmosphere. Those huge portraits are better than a personnel department. Girls hate to quit and lose the identity working in my store gives them, and when I am trying to hire a new salesgirl, the idea that she will have her own large portrait is a tremendous hiring tool. But I think the largest return on my investment is the appearance of my girls when they show up to work. A very large picture on the wall proves how beautiful they can be, and they arrive looking just as beautiful. I have my own fashion show with my sales assistants every day, and it would be impossible to calculate how many sales were the direct result of how nice one of my garments looked on one of them.
I receive more personal assistance from some of my sales assistants, but it is only because I don't refuse what is freely offered. I don't make innuendoes or offer sexual hints, so the only way sexual harassment could be an issue would be if they opened up the law to include looking. I freely and proudly admit I love to look at beautiful girls, and when my eyes track one of my gorgeous assistants long enough, magic happens.
The mere fact that my eyes are so obviously caressing, fondling, stroking, undressing, sucking, licking, and fucking her body triggers the magic. It permeates into that part of a beautiful girl's sexuality that wants men to look. And then see more. And then see everything. When the magic flows I think the girl somehow knows I am hard. It is almost an act of will, but as I wish for more exposure and I know the magic is spreading, I start to see subtle signs of her arousal. When the magic is at its most potent, her displays are flagrant and her arousal is obvious. She must initiate any behavior beyond my intense gaze, but when she wants to stay alone after work, it is a green light with the words "PLEASE FUCK ME" stenciled on her cunt. I own an extremely profitable business with great fringe benefits.
There are three easy chairs off to one side of my sales counter for waiting husbands, boyfriends, and shopping companions. If anything, their view of the dressing cubicles is even better than mine. They are lower. I have a sign on the wall above the chairs that says "Eyeball Therapy Clinic" and directly below it in smaller letters another one that says "Fee: One Female Shopper". Frequently there is a male butt in each of my comfortable easy chairs, and I believe going shopping with the little lady is not much of a chore if they come to my shop. In fact, I have to run off guys just stopping for a gawk more than I would like. They don't have the fee.
Many of these gentlemen bring in their "significant others" so they can scout out other girls in the shop. Many dancers begin their nighttime occupation early, just minus the dancing part, and afternoons hop at the changing carrels. My sales assistants are always dressed to show, so even late mornings aren't bad. There is one other group "for your viewing pleasure", and I find an increasing number of men who encourage their wives to provide the treatment and improper exposure to the eyeballs receiving therapy in my painless clinic. I am the only permanent patient in this small examination room, and it is this growing group of husband voyeur/wife exhibitionists that I find the most interesting. The excitement is genuine, obvious, and fresh for both spice (spouses?),
I generally find that these voyeur husbands are not alpha males. The wives are even less assertive than their husbands. They both fantasize that a strong-willed, huge-cocked man's man will sweep the beautiful wife off her feet and provide her with an otherworldly sexual experience. The exhibitionism stokes their sexual embers and her exposure is a prelude to watching or sharing the wife, whether they know it or not. There are a few exceptions to this gross generalization, and I had the unfortunate distinction of being forced to speak to one who thought he was one of the outliers—a manipulative intimidator of a husband named Andy. I wouldn't be writing this story if he hadn't called.
"Les is Mor". I think it's a cool way to answer the phone too. They hear the name of my store and they get my philosophy on women's apparel. There is no way it could be conveyed in a shorter message, which again matches the meaning of the words.
"I'm interested in very revealing clothes for my wife. I've heard you cater to girls wanting to show off." Cut to the chase. All business. Not even an introduction or a hello.
"That's our business. There are a lot of dancers who shop here." "You mean strippers?" Abrasive, but I silently agreed with his assessment.
"They dance while they take off their clothes, but they don't like to be called strippers." Politically correct definitely applies to strippers if they make up most of your yearly sales volume. I always, always call them dancers.
"OK, whatever. Do you have clothes they wouldn't wear while 'dancing'?" Whoa. His sarcasm was too intense. "I'm not sure I know what you mean." Ah, the dumb blonde salesgirl trick. I had seen it work for my sales assistants many times. I could still learn.
"Well, there are clothes they wear on the stage that they remove as they 'dance' and there are revealing clothes that girls wear that they wouldn't wear on the stage." The explaining-to-a-two-year-old tone lit my fuse. What an asshole.
"That line is very fuzzy. What do you want?" No more sugar coating. I didn't need his business badly enough to put up with his shit.
"Well, now I want to speak to the manager." I love it when people say that to me. My brusque answer must have pissed him off.
"Speaking. I'm also the owner. My name is Kirk. What's yours?" The adrenaline was pumping.
"Andy". It sounded like his was too. He paused and I waited. I don't know why I didn't hang up on him during that thirty-second silence. It was another stupid male ego game of chicken. He finally said, "Kirk, I apologize. I've been a shithead. Can we start again?"
I was ready to hang up at the first syllable with bile, but I didn't hear one. I thought about hanging up anyway, but I couldn't justify hanging up on an apology. "How can I help you?" I could still feel the fire in my veins, but I was trying to be as civil as I could through my clenched teeth.
"I'm looking for revealing clothes for my wife. Can you tell me what you carry?" I can't go from mad to calm quickly, but apparently he could. There wasn't the slightest hint of sarcasm, anger or rancor in his voice. There was the syrupy tone of a sweet talker, however, and his metamorphosis was surreal.
"Sure, we only stock revealing clothes. The most revealing I can find. Evening gowns. Dresses and skirts. Tops. Bras and panties. Nightgowns and robes. Lingerie. Short shorts. Swimwear. Exercise clothing. Sheer and flimsy. Just about everything except shoes." I had recited this litany innumerable times on the phone. I got through it in a calmer manner than I would have predicted. I was relatively proud of myself.
"That's what I heard. You get rave reviews. I'm interested in providing my wife with a memorable shopping experience." Calm. Cool. Collected. Conniving?
"We strive to make shopping here memorable." I didn't know what else to say. I didn't know what he was trying to say.
"We need unique sales assistance. Individualized attention from one of your salesmen."
"Our sales assistants try to stay with a customer for as long as they are wanted." My voice still had no warmth and I didn't trust him. I was trying to determine where this was going.
"'He' needs to take measurements and be able to 'feel' the cloth as she wears it to check for alterations." He stressed the words 'he' and 'feel', and I thought I caught his drift. This was getting interesting all of a sudden.
"I understand". Shit, I wasn't positive but I hoped I did.
"He must be thorough and expert. I'm sure I don't have to say this based on the reputation of your quality store." Now he was buttering with broad strokes. I was sure he had no idea what reputation it had. I still thought I understood what he wanted for his wife.
"No. No you don't". OK, OK. My blood pressure was still elevated.
"I'm sorry. I just had to make sure. One more thing. He must be young?"
"Of course. Under 30". I wasn't sure how he would take it. It was a full staff of female sales assistants and I. Fuck him. He didn't need to know. And I wasn't really under 30, but then I wasn't going to show him my driver's license.
"I prefer a private area. Your salesman will have to take measurements and make alteration marks. Can you accommodate us?" Yes, I can do that stuff. That was how I got into this business. I hoped she was foxy.
"We have a private fitting room. Locks. Mirrors. A platform. A couch. Soundproofed. If you would like to set up an appointment, there is a $1000 minimum." I doubled it as a fee for my aggravation, but I had a feeling he would spend a lot more than $1000 anyway.
"Can he stay in the room? I don't want him to disappear."
"Sure". Shit, if he wanted me to see her strip, I could accommodate him.
"How about tomorrow?" He couldn't wait for me to see his wife naked.
I took all the information I needed—name, credit card number, his wife's name, her dress size, her measurements. Well, I didn't really need her measurements but I was curious. Andy's voice had the timbre and resonance of a middle-aged man, but his wife Gina's measurements were not those of a middle-aged woman.
I replayed the conversation in my head. I heard two sides to Andy, and I didn't care for either. He began the conversation by trying to bully and intimidate. I suspected that he always started personal interactions very aggressively and that he would continue to consider himself king if not challenged. In our conversation, I challenged him. He transformed into an ass kisser almost instantaneously. His apparent anger had to have been part of his act, as did his subsequent obsequiousness. Both tactics pissed me off, and my course, heading, and bearing emerged. The U.S.S. Kirk was anxious to navigate into his little inlet named Gina. I have to be a ship to navigate. A big, powerful, churning, surging, thrusting cruiser that tirelessly and repeatedly spreads the wetness ahead while leaving a froth of white foam residue behind. With unerring navigational skills, Gina would "in let" me. I wasn't going fuck his wife as punishment for his boorish behavior. I was going to fuck her as a reward to her for putting up with her asshole husband.
I correctly guessed who they were as soon as they entered the store. A quick examination provided a great deal of information. He was at least 50, tall, well dressed, handsome, graying, fit, and assertive. She was close to 20, blonde, shapely, scantily dressed, beautiful, fit, and excited. I noticed that they wore matching wedding rings, so I jumped to a conclusion: a divorced big game hunter with his trophy and a gold digger with her loaded sugar daddy. I missed, but hey, you give it your best shot.
I introduced myself and he introduced Gina. I watched his face as I confirmed that I was going to provide the sales assistance to his wife. He twitched so slightly I barely saw it, but it didn't look like a pleased twitch to me. I asked if they needed assistance selecting clothes. He answered for both of them without consulting or even glancing at Gina. He decided to pick and choose without me. No surprise there.
As they looked, I looked. I was accustomed to seeing beautiful women in next to nothing, but Gina was breathtaking. Face, body, grace, voice, coordination….she had it all, and every part was superb. She was petite, but not skinny. Definitely not skinny. Maybe 5'4" in bare feet. Maybe 110 pounds soaking wet. Blonde. Blue eyes. Lightly bronzed with no visible tan lines. Shapely. The 35C-22-33 measurements Andy provided on the phone matched those my eyeballs made. Great nipples. Great skin. Great legs. Great ass. Great smile with brilliant white teeth. The whole enchilada.
She knew my eyes were locked on and I think she could tell I was hard. I felt the magic, and it surprised me. I had never sensed it so quickly. She had the slight blush of a gorgeous girl who knows men are staring but is not yet sure how to take advantage of it. I looked for signs that she could feel the magic flow to her from my eyes. Andy noticed my eyes as well. His smile conveyed the message that he owned a toy he was pleased to show off. His eyes conveyed the message that I had to be careful about the game I wanted to play with his toy.
Steely, hard eyes have never intimidated me, and in this case they firmed my resolve to deliver a body blow to his ego. It wouldn't be any fun to fuck his wife if he didn't see it. It wouldn't be nearly as much fun to fuck her if she didn't turn into hot molten lava in front of him. I wanted to fuck her in a way that she had never been fucked before. A way that would leave her demanding more of the same. A way that would leave her unwilling to accept less. A way that would leave him resigned to fucking his wife in a way that she would always recognize as inferior.
I listened to him as they shopped. "Gina, hold still. Here, hold this up against you. Oh yea, that will show you off". There was excitement in his voice, but he never asked her opinion. He didn't want her to pick anything for herself. Despite his dominance, or maybe because of it, she seemed to get more excited with each of his selections. Andy picked dresses, tops, skirts, lingerie, swimsuits, exercise clothes, gowns. Hell, he picked at least one of everything. The dollar signs in my eyes almost obscured my intent, but when her beauty reconnected with my brain I decided I had to try to fuck her. Shit, I made enough money and it would all be sold anyway.
"Gina you will try all these on for me. Right?" Where was the little dictator? It was the first question I heard him ask her.
"Oohh god honey. Some of them show so much."
"But you will?" Almost a plea. A hidden side?
"Ooohh yes. Ooohh god I will". Her first affirmation was tentative, her second much more resolute. "Oh honey I'm so excited. I love this place." It was almost a whisper.
They both noticed the ease of "accidental" exposure from the changing rooms. They stopped to watch a girl trying on a dress. The largest gap in the curtain was on the side that enabled them to see her reflection in the mirrors. She was topless as she stepped into the sexy little dress. "These are the best dressing rooms I've ever seen." Hell yes. I designed them.
"Honey! They don't give you any privacy." It was the first opinion she'd expressed on anything. She pretended to be angry, but her eyes sparkled.
Andy gestured at the two patients in the "Clinic". "Not a bit. They could see as much as we did". Then he whispered something I couldn't hear. I could hear Gina's moan in response. Gina looked at the men whose attention was riveted on the topless attraction in booth 2, and with good reason. The attraction was trying on another slinky dress. The constrictions that made the blood flow into Gina's nipples greater than the outflow were engaged, and her nipples were growing.
"Gina, go try on these dresses". The eagerness with which she took them from Andy's hands matched the excitement in her eyes. Three changing booths were available, and Gina chose the one closest to the "Clinic". She tried to pull the curtain so it would cover the entire opening. I saw the little smile as she saw the futility. The cloth was 6" narrower than the gap, but it could be placed so there was a 3" gap on each side or a 6" gap on one side or the other. The most revealing position placed the entire 6" gap on the mirror side, and this was the position she chose.
Andy took the last seat in the "clinic". Because it was on the near end, he could see Gina and watch the other two patients simultaneously. When she took off the dress she wore into the store, he heard the same gasps I did. The "Clinic" patients were receiving a shock treatment and it momentarily left them gasping. Gina was naked under her dress, which she was no longer under. I throbbed at the prospect of assisting her up close as she changed outfits.
She stepped into the new dress and looked at herself in the mirrors. "Honey, let me see". Andy spoke for all of us, and she opened the curtain to slowly turn around while we all leered at her. That wasn't enough for Andy. "C'mon over here, hon. I can't see that dress when you're so far away." Hell, the booth was only about 15 feet away, but I was right there with him.
She moved smoothly and elegantly, but something in the way she moved led me to believe she was flowing like a spigot. And then there were a couple of other clues, like her breath rate and the flush in her cheeks and, of course, her nipples. My god, her nipples. They were a whole lot more than bumps on her tits. They were rounded on the top, but the most noticeable aspect was the distance they protruded from her aureole. They were like tent poles, and the soft cotton gapped all the way around leaving an air pocket surrounding their cylindrical sides. Childless women didn't have nipples like that, but I would have bet big money that she didn't have any children. She was too narrow in the hips. Too innocent. Too fresh. Too clean.
"Turn around, hon. Let's see how it fits". Shit, she was almost within touching distance. She spun slowly and just kept going around a second time. The dress was short and we all knew there was nothing under it. I thought "Spin, baby, spin".
"What do you think, Kirk?" I was surprised. I didn't think he would ask.
It was a nice dress. Short, scoop neckline, soft cotton blend, light blue. I wanted more. "I don't think so. It's too plain for her Andy."
Gina didn't even pause for Andy's opinion before she glided back to the changing room. She didn't pull the curtain nearly as taut. The folds in the curtain increased the gap width. She removed the dress she had on and hung it up before taking the next dress off its hanger. We saw her naked for at least 20 seconds. Shaven cunt. Gorgeous tits. No stretch marks or fat anywhere. No tan lines. What an ass!
She didn't wait for Andy to beckon. She swiveled her way back to us and again turned around twice. Faster. Much sexier. Plunging neckline. Softer material. Shorter hemline. Light cream color. So light we could see the shadow of her aureole.
"Put that one aside, Gina. We'll take it in the fitting room. Go try on the other one." Now I was telling her what to do, but that was my job. I did it in a way that wasn't regal or threatening, unlike the way her husband gave commands. Andy didn't look thrilled, but he didn't say anything.
This time she opened the curtain to go in but just left it there. The gap was more than a foot, and we could see both mirrors through the gap. And Gina. She again stripped off her dress and hung it on a hanger, but she appeared to notice something on the dress. She turned toward us, ostensibly to improve illumination, and held the dress up close to her eyes. Her body faced us full on, and I could see light reflecting off the moisture around her cunt. It was apparent that she loved this game. I looked briefly at Andy, and I could see the glint in his eyes too. His face didn't have the sour and dour expression of a dictator or the fawning and toady expression of a bootlicker. I saw pride, joy, lust, and most of all love. I didn't expect it.
"Gina, bring that one with you. You can show me what you found." She looked at me. Her naked beauty entranced me so I wanted to fondle her with my eyes until she turned away. I finally realized she was contemplating whether she should really walk across my store naked, so I belatedly added, "Put on the last dress first".
Two of my sales assistants smiled at me. I didn't know any other woman who would have needed that last guidance. My cock twitched at the thought that I would be touching this submissive girl very soon.
She wore one dress and carried the other. She pointed out the tiny defect in the cloth, then handed the dress to me. My beautiful sales assistant Holly was watching, so I held it up and she walked over. "Holly, Gina noticed this defect in the cloth. Will you see if we have another in this size?" I placed it under the counter and Holly was on the way back with a replacement by the time I reperched on my throne. "Gina, thank you for noticing that blemish. I'll send it back for replacement. We'll alter the one Holly brought. Thank you Holly."
"You're welcome". They answered in unison, but the tones were different. Gina's voice was sexy, Holly's upbeat. Gina's eyes dwelt on mine as she spoke, and they gave away her passion. They were smoldering and sultry. She was so turned on. I think she felt the magic.
"Turn around for us again Gina". The dress was obscene in its brevity. Backless. Tied in back of the neck. A V-neck plunge to nearly her belly button. Black. Slinky. Short. The hemline couldn't have ended more than three inches below her cunt. The high heels she wore into the store looked as if they had been purchased with the dress. Black and shiny with tall spikes and ankle straps. She spun rather than turned, and every eyeball in the "clinic" saw her smooth pussy from no more than five feet, albeit extremely briefly.
I gathered all the other clothes Andy had selected for his wife. "Gina, just wear that one back to the fitting room." I waved at Holly again. "Holly, please collect Gina's clothes and bring them to Andy". Then I turned to face Andy. It was a critical juncture in the seduction game I was playing. I incorrectly thought I was the only player. "Andy, why don't you just sit here and relax. I'll have Gina model each of the items. When they become too revealing, come into the fitting room with us." His eyes had glazed when Gina spun to let all of us have a brief but close up view of her cunt, and from his phone call I knew he wanted to display her beauty. If he sat where he was, more men would see her. The kicker was that I would be in the fitting room alone with her.
He stared back at me. I could almost hear the wheels turning. When he finally spoke I was floored. "Kirk, I want you to check each of these items to see that they fit properly. Smooth the fabric to insure there are no wrinkles. Feel every seam while she's wearing the item to insure there are no loose threads. Check most carefully around her tits and her cunt."
I was supposed to measure and mark for alterations, not make them before she came out. But I know when to keep my mouth shut. "Every one will look like it was made for her or I won't send her out. If you see anything else you would like her to try, send it in with her."
Gina quietly moaned when Andy told me to check for loose threads around her tits and her cunt. It was as much the use of the words in front of the other two men sitting in the "clinic" as it was the instruction for me to feel up his wife that startled so thoroughly.
"Gina, you did agree to model all these items for me, right?" I guess Andy wanted to insure his wife was still turned on.
"Yes. Ooohhh my god yesss". Her tone radiated arousal. Her words anticipation.
"I'll wait right here".
My hard on was obvious to all when I stood, and the little grin on Andy's face was a clone to the little grin on Gina's. I opened the fitting room door and followed her in.
"Do you want the dress you're wearing?"
"Yes".
"Please stand on the platform while I mark for alterations. Unless you ask me to stop, I will also check all the garments in the manner your husband specified." I didn't say the words tits and cunt, but the meaning wouldn't have been clearer if I had.
"I won't tell you to stop". Carte blanche. I hadn't even put one finger on her and she told me I could do anything.
Gina was too narrow in the waist and too large in the tits for most clothes that fit her hips, so almost everything was going to need minor tailoring. I marked the first dress, then ran my fingers over all the seams, just as instructed. My fingers grazed her nipples, her ass, and her upper thighs as I did. Gina lightly moaned when her nipples moved ever so slightly from my touch. This beautiful girl was so ready to come.
"Gina, you must whisper to Andy what I have done to you each time you go out to model an item. Use the words you know he wants to hear. Tell him this time that I touched your nipples." I spoke in a normal tone of voice. The room was soundproof.
"Ooohhh god he will love it".
"Please remove it so I can hang it up here. We'll separate the ones you want from those you don't on these racks." She stared at my eyes as she stripped naked. My eyes laser beamed her cunt and didn't lose focus even as I hung up the dress she gave me. Shit, my cock was hard. I had her try on the replacement dress and marked it for alterations.
"We'll start with the evening gowns and move toward the see-through stuff. Here, try this one." I held it for her as she stepped into it, then zipped it up over her ass. I went through the sham of checking for hanging threads or other defects, this time moving her nipples more as I passed over them. Gina walked out the door and was back in a few minutes.
"What did Andy say?"
"Oooohhh god he said it made him hot. He whispered back that he wanted you to do more." This was fun. Gina could shuttle from me to Andy. I would feel her up and send her to him in a very sexy garment. She would tell him what I had done. I would escalate the foreplay as the clothes revealed more.
"Did he say what?"
"Nooo but he touched…ooohhh god ooohh he touched my nipples too."
"In front of those other men?"
"Mmmm yess. I'm so turned on".
"What did he think of the gown?"
"He didn't say".
"Did you ask?"
"No".
"Ask about both this time". I unzipped her gown and held it as she stepped out of it. I held the second gown as she stepped into it, then zipped it over her ass. She fidgeted as I dutifully checked for defects. When I finished I moved behind her and ran my hands over the gown, gently squeezing and pinching and stroking her tits for at least a minute. She watched my hands in the mirrors, and the multiple images made it appear hundreds were feeling her up. Her quiet moans were entrancing. I wanted to pull her tight against my cock, but I fought myself off.
"Tell him I felt you up. Tell him I said you have great tits".
When she returned, I asked her about the evening gowns. Both were backless, plunging, slit, and tight. Andy picked the one with the center slit that nearly reached her cunt, which was the one she was wearing. I marked it for alterations, then helped her strip. When she was standing nude on the platform in her spike heels, her cunt was about level with my nipples. It was a gorgeous cunt. Fleshy, engorged, slightly reddened, wet, protruding inner lips, and erect clitoris. In fact, it was the most gorgeous cunt I had ever seen. I stared at it as I spoke. "What did Andy say?"
"He wanted you to feel them without the dress in the way." How many times in your life are you asked to do exactly what you would have chosen to do anyway?
"Did he feel you up too?"
"Ooohh god he made me face those guys and got behind me. He felt me for a few seconds, but those guys…oohh god they couldn't take their eyes off my tits." Who could blame them? What tits! I loved having a conversation with this totally nude girl. What was the rush to cover her? Les is Mor.
"Well, there's no dress in the way now. I think you need to tell Andy that whatever I'm going to do from now on, you'll be naked." I stepped up on the platform and stood behind her again. I concentrated on smooth, gentle, slow, loving strokes as I caressed her naked tits from her rear. Gina's urgency wanted more forceful squeezing and grabbing and pinching, but I wanted her to be feverish by the time I fucked her. I fondled the outer slopes, cupped the undersides, stroked down toward her nipples from the top, occasionally brought both hands to one tit or the other, very gently pinched her aureole, and varied the pressure considerably but never enough to satisfy her want. Her head never stopped rotating, and she could see herself being stroked from left, right, above, and directly in front. She was almost whimpering after a couple of minutes and her knees buckled briefly once.
She knew that I was intentionally refraining from doing what would feel better than what I was doing to her, but her only effort to increase her own pleasure was to thrust her entire chest toward my hands. I didn't even touch her nipples, but her quiet moans and hunching hips clued me that she might be able to orgasm from breast stimulation alone. I intended to keep her poised at the brink of orgasm for a very long time. I would need to be very careful. I knew her submissive, passive nature would never let her ask for more and that she would not provide it for herself. She was already in a zone of arousal that removed her from most rationality, and I could feel the magic pushing her into the zone past reality.
A protracted interval of constant stimulation without orgasm is always torture. It is also a necessary prelude to the most overpowering, intensely pleasurable and memorable orgasms. I held the reins to Gina's arousal and I planned to subject her to the most potent erogenous torture for as long as I could. Her mental stimulation depended on my words and on the extent of her exposure. I chose the garments that exposed, so I regulated what she displayed. I chose my words to stir, to inflame, to agitate but not to promise quick satisfaction. She needed to know she was going through my torture chamber and she needed to submerge into and then relish its agony.
Her physical stimulation would also depend entirely on what I did to her if I could stop Andy from feeling her up when she modeled for the patients in the "clinic". It was my fucking store and I couldn't have a customer being felt up in front of other customers, could I?
I selected a gauzy see-through sleeveless blouse and a wrap around skirt that was probably a size too small for her. Hey, I didn't select it originally. Her husband knew her size. I didn't say anything as I dressed her and her glazed eyes didn't appear to care. I helped her off the platform as soon as she was dressed. I seemed to forget the stupid seam-checking shit.
"Gina, tell Andy he can't feel you up in my store. I could lose my sales license." I knew there was the option for him to move into the fitting room, but I hoped he wasn't ready for that yet. I didn't think he would. His eyes were too excited when Gina displayed her cunt to the patients.
Just before she walked out the door I reminded her. "Don't forget to tell him you will be nude for everything from now on." Then I added, "Oh yeah. Tell him I love the smell of your cunt and that I can't wait to use it."
Her moan accompanied her body out the door, and there was no soundproofing when the door was open. She had just announced to everybody in my store, "Hey, I'm so hot I'll fuck a pervert" or something along that line. I couldn't wait to see how Andy received that bit of good news.
Well, I don't want to bore you with all the little details regarding the Gina shuttle service so I'll just give you the big picture items. Andy remained in the "clinic" with the other two patients through Gina's entire one-woman show. Gina delivered on her promise to model every item Andy had selected, and the last few rivaled what was left at the end of a dance at a gentlemen's club. Rivaled doesn't always mean less revealing. Some revealed more. No, there weren't any dollar bills hanging out when she returned to the fitting room but the baby doll nightgown and the sheer peignoir and the swimsuit cover (minus the swimsuit) had no place to hang them.
Gina also delivered on her statement that she wouldn't stop me, and as she modeled increasingly revealing outfits the time interval between each walk down her personal runway increased. My descriptions and promises became more graphic as my hands and mouth wandered further, and her mental pliability embraced each obscene word, gesture, or touch with passion. She was nude when she wasn't on that runway, and I was right there with her for about the last five or six items she modeled. I did everything except fuck her and I must have stopped twenty times when she was on the verge of crossing that tenuous strand into orgasm. I made her stop several times when I nearly crossed that same isthmus. Her torture and my torture coincided, but the magic was never more potent. There was nothing in my puny brain except this game and the magic that filled me to my core.
Gina continued to whisper to Andy exactly what I told her to whisper. He was apprised of each escalation in our erotic dance, and he was stretched by the same instruments in the same torture chamber of lust we were in. Gina reported that his hard on never flagged and that the other patients appeared to be similarly disabled. A contagious disability? I had it too. As our progression from hands on Gina to mouth on Gina to hands on Kirk to naked Kirk to mouth on Kirk to hands and mouth on Gina and Kirk continued, I expected Andy to try to stop it several times. I thought the key hurdle was when I first stripped and she stroked me, especially when I made her tell him how big I was. Gina said he became even more excited when she told him. When Gina was about to model her last bit of nothing, I asked her to whisper just once more. "Tell Andy I'm ready to fuck you. Bring him back with you so he can watch us."
As soon as she left I pulled a single-bed mattress from behind the racks in the corner and put a clean sheet on it, then placed it in the center of the alteration platform. The mattress was considerably larger than the 3-foot-diameter fitting platform, but it would work fine. Don't question me on it. Girls like the ceiling mirror. Also, Andy needed the couch, which I swung around so it was within a foot of the makeshift performance stage.
I prayed my hard on would subside, at least a little, from the exertion. Nope. It still quivered when Gina entered while holding Andy's hand. As soon as they were inside, she shut and locked the door, stripped off the sheer swimsuit cover, and then she kissed him with such passion that I wasn't sure I was going to be the first to fuck her. Andy broke the kiss and gently pushed his gorgeous wife toward me. I looked at him and he playfully smiled at me. His beautiful wife and I were newborn naked and drowning in arousal, but probably no more so than he. Subliminal doubts erupted into an open question. Had I misjudged him? I pondered for, oh, maybe a nanosecond before ever fiber of my being refocused on his wife.
I kissed her trying to feel and transmit the magic with my lips, my tongue, my hands, my body, my cock, and my soul. The magic was more powerful and more potent than it had ever been, and my whole being converged on the primal motion between my cock and her cunt. She was still in her spike heels, and I squatted enough to align my cock with the drenched entrance to her cunt. I pushed forward as I heartily tugged her ass toward me. It was just enough to seat my cockhead inside. Her scream was startlingly loud, and nobody could have mistaken it for a wail of pure pleasure.
I was too far into the rut to stop. I lifted her ass with both hands and raised her high enough to let gravity finish the job of full insertion. I kissed her again as she slowly sunk and I simultaneously penetrated. I grieved when I had to break the kiss in order to lodge my pubic bone next to hers. I was a few inches too tall. I also rejoiced when I had to break the kiss because Gina's moan held only rapture. Her grinding when I was finally seated induced her first orgasm. The torture was over for her and I knew she felt the same intense magic I did.
"Ooohhh god ooohhh yes ooohhh thank you thank you oohhh I'm coming oohh god." To this day I don't know how I kept from losing it at that moment. Or why. The hours of foreplay, her beauty, her eager acceptance of any torture I dealt, her intense passion and lust, the magic flowing so powerfully, her wanton release--I couldn't imagine anything more exciting. As I reflect, I think maybe my conscience overrode my libido. When I was in the army I must have heard "a stiff prick has no conscience" a few hundred times. Now….?
My peripheral vision told my subconscious mind that Andy was seated on the couch so close he could have touched any part of her body, but whatever part of the mind I was using was feeling Gina and the magic and my cock.
"Ooohhh god honey it's even better than we hoped…ooohhh god I love it…fuck me oohh god fuck me." It sunk in, slowly, that this had been their objective even before they came in my store. There had been clues. I assured myself that she was getting the fuck of her life, as I vengefully intended, but I mentally slapped my own cheek. I was the manipulative asshole in this game. I lifted Gina off. The magic was gone.
"Andy, I'm sorry. I hated you yesterday because of the way I thought you were. I hate myself now because I've acted in an even more disgusting way." There was shock and disappointment on both faces, but Andy gently smiled.
"Kirk, sit down. Gina, sit next to him. Keep him interested." We sat and she stroked my cock with a lustful gusto I didn't feel. Nevertheless, my cock never softened. Gina and I sat silently as he spoke.
"This has been one of the most exciting days of my life and I hope it isn't over yet. You are feeling guilty over your intentions toward Gina. She is a beautiful, innocent, passionate girl and I love her totally. When we walked in the door your intent was to fuck her, but not because she was so beautiful. You wanted to fuck her to show me, to get back at me, to get vengeance. I hadn't planned on telling you this because everything was working perfectly. Gina was in the process of being fucked better than she has ever been fucked, and this was our intent. Before I called you yesterday, I knew a lot about you. My ******** used to work here, and one night when we were baring our souls after her mother's death, she said the best sex she ever had was with you in your fitting room."
"Who is your ********?"
"Jenny. Anyway, about six months later, I hired Gina. She is a wonderful secretary and a very caring person. She entered my life at the time my thoughts about sex were driving me nuts, and she dressed in such skimpy things that in most of my masturbation fantasies I fucked her. She later confessed that she loved it when my eyes followed her. She admitted she teased me and wore clothes to entice me."
"I did. We masturbated to the same fantasies." The word masturbation fit She continued to stroke and my cock betrayed me. It stayed hard. A stiff prick has no conscience?
"Before I knew it, I had fallen in love with her. She is so much younger that I ignored my attraction as much as I could. Who could saddle such a beautiful young girl, ready for a ****** and a youthful husband, with an old fart like me? But soon, I felt like she was pursuing me."
"I was". I loved her voice.
"Her dress became even more revealing in the office. She showed off for me even when there were other men in my office, especially clients. I never admonished her and she told me later she could tell I was even more turned on when she flaunted her body at me when other men could see her do it. Well, she was right. I felt guilty because I thrilled so much when she did it. I still don't understand why it excites me so much."
"I don't understand why it turns me on so much either, honey." My theory: there's an exhibitionism gene that is dominant in beautiful women. ********* of beautiful showoffs are showoffs.
"We talked at work and it came out that she couldn't have children due to a childhood illness. We began to talk after work in a little bar down the street, and her displays in public turned me on even more than what she did in the office. Well, you can probably guess the rest. I fucked her after one of our nights in the bar. Soon, I began to fuck her at work, and her exhibitionism was part of our foreplay. When she let clients see her tits, her panties, or once in awhile her bare cunt, I would attack her as soon as they were out the door." He paused to think but Gina never paused. She looked at Andy while she slowly drew her tongue along my throbbing cock. She had already been all over my cock with her mouth before Andy joined us. Seeing the love in her eyes turned me on for some reason.
"The romance and the sex were the best of my life. We got married about eight months ago."
"I couldn't have misjudged you more." Loving, caring, honest. No dictator. No ass kisser.
"No, you were right. That phone call yesterday? I behaved so rotten in order to put you in exactly the frame of mind you were in. Would you have ever considered fucking Gina in front of me if you weren't trying to show me what a stud you were and what an asshole I was?" He was right. It was the root of my guilt. I was trying to fuck his wife to get back at him.
"No. My sex life is private. Or at least I thought it was until Jenny spilled the beans. You should be proud of her—she is a wonderful and very passionate young lady. Tell her she's at the top of my heap too." Shit. I was talking to a father about what a great fuck his ******** was. Somehow, it was ok.
"I will. Or maybe not. The circumstances would have to be right. Anyway, you fell into our little web until your guilt caught you, and here we are."
"And you want me to fuck your beautiful young bride in front of you?" I didn't understand their fantasy. I guessed that Andy couldn't keep up with Gina's desires and that was the reason they were here, but I didn't want to pry too much. Hell, I guessed that I probably wouldn't be able to either, but it would be fun to try.
"Yes. We've even talked about letting other men fuck her on our honeymoon. It excites the hell out of us, but you were our first 'victim'." Fly. Victim. Those images don't have the same distaste when the spider looks like Gina. I looked at her and the magic began to flow again. She had never stopped stroking my cock, and she kissed and licked it frequently while Andy was talking.
"Better make that 'are our first victim' instead of 'were our first victim'." I don't think the magic ever left her, so I turned to kiss Andy's wife again. We were seated right next to him, and this time I didn't intend to fuck her to show her how much better than her husband I was, but rather to complete a fantasy for them. I was drawn into their fantasy, and it almost felt like a triangular love that all three of us shared equally.
The magic had a different feel. The sexual arousal was as intense as it had ever been, but there was an additional gift to my senses. It was as if all the hatred that had driven the game originally transformed into loving, caring, wholesome emotions. I stood and pulled Gina up, then asked her to lie down on the mattress. The mirrors had fascinated her in the long foreplay she endured, and I wanted her to be able to see my ass moving quickly and forcefully on the ceiling mirror as I fucked her. Andy was also in a perfect position to watch, and I intended to let him see everything as a shared experience rather than as a punishment.
Well, that was the pinnacle of my sex life so far. We were in that fitting room long past closing and I didn't even bother to check whether my sales assistants had closed everything up. I fucked her, Andy fucked her, she sucked us both, I fucked her while she sucked Andy and vice versa. We played, we laughed, we loved, and we fucked and we fucked and we fucked.
Andy bought all the clothes Gina wanted, of course, after checking to insure all the alterations were right. Those weren't the only alterations from that day. Gina now works as one of my sales assistants, and when Andy needs a little therapy from the "clinic", Gina is thrilled to provide the overexposure his eyeballs desire. Les is Mor. God, I love that girl's raw sexuality. Andy always arrives about an hour before closing, and after his therapy in the "clinic" we make sure all the garments are marked for alterations in the fitting room. I think the magic is more potent than it has ever been. Maybe both of us will be able to satisfy her strong desires indefinitely. Maybe not. We may require more "Alterations for Gina".
* * * * *
Les is Mor is the only tenant in the building I also own. Some sort of mumbo jumbo legal shit separates the building from the store although I am the sole owner of each. Location, location, location helps, and mine is about a mile north of downtown. Very nice apartment district. The most exclusive gentlemen's clubs are close. The money in Dallas is north. The store's isolation keeps kids just developing an interest from sticking their nose against the window. This alone should be enough to separate us from the mall-addicted Victoria's Secret chain, but I can't seem to dissociate us. I even have warning labels posted on the door. No minors, X-rated, occasional nudity and language, yada, yada, yada. Probably worthless but so far (knuckles rap my wooden head) there haven't been any holy rollers trying to shut us down. This man's store is his castle, and if the king edicts that Les is Mor inside his castle, well….
My largest clientele are dancers. No, not ballet and not ballroom and not any type that you do with a member of the opposite sex. These dancers used to be called strippers, or in posh clubs ecdysiasts, but now most of them take offense if I don't ask them about their dancing. Hell, I don't want to disparage their dancing. Many of them do dance extremely well, but guys don't pay to watch them dance. Men want to see their tits, their asses, their cunts. Even those who can't move their feet to match the steady beat of a bass drum can hold a job if they look good enough.
Since I am in the store almost all the time, I designed it to suit my purposes. No, there are no see-through mirrors or hidden cameras. I don't need them. These girls like to show off, and I just provide a venue that halfway legitimizes it outside the strip joint, um sorry, gentlemen's club. They all make great money and they all dress nicely. In this case, nicely means both expensively and revealingly.
The openings to the four changing rooms in my fine establishment face the sales counter. I am a fixture on my throne behind that counter. Two walls in each changing room have full-length mirrors. Naturally I can see these two mirrored walls from my throne. There are no doors on the dressing cubicles. I personally selected the curtains that pull across the openings. The material is white gauze that would be illegal for a dress worn in public. The curtain is so narrow it lacks about 6" from stretching across the entire opening and it is so short there is an 18" gap on the bottom. Silhouettes, reflections, visual innuendoes and translucent gauze provide a continually charged atmosphere. Spending sixty or seventy hours a week here is a labor of lust.
Most of the dancers seem to enjoy the built in exposure when they try on the clothes that men love to peek down, up or through. They recognize the store was designed so I could watch them, and they usually tease and tantalize me with a sexy grin. At worst they humor me. Dancers understand how deep the root of sexual desire goes in men; and catering to that need is, after all, the business they are in.
While dancers make up the bulk of my business, about 40% of my sales are to the girl next door. Unconnected single girls, girlfriends, and wives are considerably less comfortable using my changing booths. The exposure that induces a blush of embarrassment and shame usually generates the alter ego as well: a heady rush of excitement and arousal. All the key indicators that the nervous system has been activated are present when these girls exit the cubicles. Rapid breathing, reddened skin, racing pulse, blood pressure up, adrenaline pumping, erectile tissue responding. Which emotion dominates the activation? Does it matter? The girls are excited, and they remember the experience. My changing rooms have been the setting for many erotic dreams and bedtime fantasy scenarios. When these "innocents" visit a second time, the exposures are longer, clearer, and often targeted at a male shopping companion who wasn't with them the first time.
While I admit that 99% of the store design reflects my desire to see beautiful naked girls, it has proven to be an effective design to prevent shoplifting. As much as these gorgeous girls make, they still steal if they can. Even a tiny purse can hold some of the sheer panty and bra sets, and large purses can hold most of the items I sell. I'm good at catching them and even better at getting them to pay for it rather than just give it back. I've threatened to call the police a couple of times when girls refused to open their purses, but I've never had to follow through. My changing room design makes it nearly impossible for them to shoplift by wearing unpaid-for-clothes out the door. I can see what they took off and what they put on, and I remember stuff like that despite concentrating more on the interval between the two events.
I also have a single fitting room back of the sales counter. It does have a real door with a lock, an elevated platform to assist in alterations, full-length mirrors on all four walls and the ceiling, and a couch for me to take an occasional nap. It is relatively soundproof, which I originally specified to enable me to sleep. The soundproofing has come in handy for more sensual reasons many times, as has the couch. The mirrors fascinate girls who like to show off, and they are like Spanish Fly to girls who have never seen themselves being fucked.
Usually I have two sales assistants working with me, but sometimes I schedule as many as four into my relatively large store. It has been my privilege and my unending delight to hire only young, gorgeous, sexy girls who like to wear the clothes I sell. It would be a shame to put little nametags on them to spoil the effect of the clothing, so I have a large sign behind the counter that says "Sales Assistants for Sales Assistance". I like the fact that assistants and assistance are pronounced identically, so when it is spoken it sounds stupid and redundant whereas if it's read silently it makes perfect sense. I send each girl I hire to a quality portrait photographer friend of mine, and a 16" x 20" portrait with the girl's first name affixed on a large bronze nameplate is hung under the sign when the girl is working.
This $300 investment in a high-quality portrait that presents each girl as an incredibly beautiful young woman pays tremendous dividends. All the customers in the store can match my beautiful salesgirls with the pictures on the wall, and I think it fosters a more friendly and personal ****** atmosphere. Those huge portraits are better than a personnel department. Girls hate to quit and lose the identity working in my store gives them, and when I am trying to hire a new salesgirl, the idea that she will have her own large portrait is a tremendous hiring tool. But I think the largest return on my investment is the appearance of my girls when they show up to work. A very large picture on the wall proves how beautiful they can be, and they arrive looking just as beautiful. I have my own fashion show with my sales assistants every day, and it would be impossible to calculate how many sales were the direct result of how nice one of my garments looked on one of them.
I receive more personal assistance from some of my sales assistants, but it is only because I don't refuse what is freely offered. I don't make innuendoes or offer sexual hints, so the only way sexual harassment could be an issue would be if they opened up the law to include looking. I freely and proudly admit I love to look at beautiful girls, and when my eyes track one of my gorgeous assistants long enough, magic happens.
The mere fact that my eyes are so obviously caressing, fondling, stroking, undressing, sucking, licking, and fucking her body triggers the magic. It permeates into that part of a beautiful girl's sexuality that wants men to look. And then see more. And then see everything. When the magic flows I think the girl somehow knows I am hard. It is almost an act of will, but as I wish for more exposure and I know the magic is spreading, I start to see subtle signs of her arousal. When the magic is at its most potent, her displays are flagrant and her arousal is obvious. She must initiate any behavior beyond my intense gaze, but when she wants to stay alone after work, it is a green light with the words "PLEASE FUCK ME" stenciled on her cunt. I own an extremely profitable business with great fringe benefits.
There are three easy chairs off to one side of my sales counter for waiting husbands, boyfriends, and shopping companions. If anything, their view of the dressing cubicles is even better than mine. They are lower. I have a sign on the wall above the chairs that says "Eyeball Therapy Clinic" and directly below it in smaller letters another one that says "Fee: One Female Shopper". Frequently there is a male butt in each of my comfortable easy chairs, and I believe going shopping with the little lady is not much of a chore if they come to my shop. In fact, I have to run off guys just stopping for a gawk more than I would like. They don't have the fee.
Many of these gentlemen bring in their "significant others" so they can scout out other girls in the shop. Many dancers begin their nighttime occupation early, just minus the dancing part, and afternoons hop at the changing carrels. My sales assistants are always dressed to show, so even late mornings aren't bad. There is one other group "for your viewing pleasure", and I find an increasing number of men who encourage their wives to provide the treatment and improper exposure to the eyeballs receiving therapy in my painless clinic. I am the only permanent patient in this small examination room, and it is this growing group of husband voyeur/wife exhibitionists that I find the most interesting. The excitement is genuine, obvious, and fresh for both spice (spouses?),
I generally find that these voyeur husbands are not alpha males. The wives are even less assertive than their husbands. They both fantasize that a strong-willed, huge-cocked man's man will sweep the beautiful wife off her feet and provide her with an otherworldly sexual experience. The exhibitionism stokes their sexual embers and her exposure is a prelude to watching or sharing the wife, whether they know it or not. There are a few exceptions to this gross generalization, and I had the unfortunate distinction of being forced to speak to one who thought he was one of the outliers—a manipulative intimidator of a husband named Andy. I wouldn't be writing this story if he hadn't called.
"Les is Mor". I think it's a cool way to answer the phone too. They hear the name of my store and they get my philosophy on women's apparel. There is no way it could be conveyed in a shorter message, which again matches the meaning of the words.
"I'm interested in very revealing clothes for my wife. I've heard you cater to girls wanting to show off." Cut to the chase. All business. Not even an introduction or a hello.
"That's our business. There are a lot of dancers who shop here." "You mean strippers?" Abrasive, but I silently agreed with his assessment.
"They dance while they take off their clothes, but they don't like to be called strippers." Politically correct definitely applies to strippers if they make up most of your yearly sales volume. I always, always call them dancers.
"OK, whatever. Do you have clothes they wouldn't wear while 'dancing'?" Whoa. His sarcasm was too intense. "I'm not sure I know what you mean." Ah, the dumb blonde salesgirl trick. I had seen it work for my sales assistants many times. I could still learn.
"Well, there are clothes they wear on the stage that they remove as they 'dance' and there are revealing clothes that girls wear that they wouldn't wear on the stage." The explaining-to-a-two-year-old tone lit my fuse. What an asshole.
"That line is very fuzzy. What do you want?" No more sugar coating. I didn't need his business badly enough to put up with his shit.
"Well, now I want to speak to the manager." I love it when people say that to me. My brusque answer must have pissed him off.
"Speaking. I'm also the owner. My name is Kirk. What's yours?" The adrenaline was pumping.
"Andy". It sounded like his was too. He paused and I waited. I don't know why I didn't hang up on him during that thirty-second silence. It was another stupid male ego game of chicken. He finally said, "Kirk, I apologize. I've been a shithead. Can we start again?"
I was ready to hang up at the first syllable with bile, but I didn't hear one. I thought about hanging up anyway, but I couldn't justify hanging up on an apology. "How can I help you?" I could still feel the fire in my veins, but I was trying to be as civil as I could through my clenched teeth.
"I'm looking for revealing clothes for my wife. Can you tell me what you carry?" I can't go from mad to calm quickly, but apparently he could. There wasn't the slightest hint of sarcasm, anger or rancor in his voice. There was the syrupy tone of a sweet talker, however, and his metamorphosis was surreal.
"Sure, we only stock revealing clothes. The most revealing I can find. Evening gowns. Dresses and skirts. Tops. Bras and panties. Nightgowns and robes. Lingerie. Short shorts. Swimwear. Exercise clothing. Sheer and flimsy. Just about everything except shoes." I had recited this litany innumerable times on the phone. I got through it in a calmer manner than I would have predicted. I was relatively proud of myself.
"That's what I heard. You get rave reviews. I'm interested in providing my wife with a memorable shopping experience." Calm. Cool. Collected. Conniving?
"We strive to make shopping here memorable." I didn't know what else to say. I didn't know what he was trying to say.
"We need unique sales assistance. Individualized attention from one of your salesmen."
"Our sales assistants try to stay with a customer for as long as they are wanted." My voice still had no warmth and I didn't trust him. I was trying to determine where this was going.
"'He' needs to take measurements and be able to 'feel' the cloth as she wears it to check for alterations." He stressed the words 'he' and 'feel', and I thought I caught his drift. This was getting interesting all of a sudden.
"I understand". Shit, I wasn't positive but I hoped I did.
"He must be thorough and expert. I'm sure I don't have to say this based on the reputation of your quality store." Now he was buttering with broad strokes. I was sure he had no idea what reputation it had. I still thought I understood what he wanted for his wife.
"No. No you don't". OK, OK. My blood pressure was still elevated.
"I'm sorry. I just had to make sure. One more thing. He must be young?"
"Of course. Under 30". I wasn't sure how he would take it. It was a full staff of female sales assistants and I. Fuck him. He didn't need to know. And I wasn't really under 30, but then I wasn't going to show him my driver's license.
"I prefer a private area. Your salesman will have to take measurements and make alteration marks. Can you accommodate us?" Yes, I can do that stuff. That was how I got into this business. I hoped she was foxy.
"We have a private fitting room. Locks. Mirrors. A platform. A couch. Soundproofed. If you would like to set up an appointment, there is a $1000 minimum." I doubled it as a fee for my aggravation, but I had a feeling he would spend a lot more than $1000 anyway.
"Can he stay in the room? I don't want him to disappear."
"Sure". Shit, if he wanted me to see her strip, I could accommodate him.
"How about tomorrow?" He couldn't wait for me to see his wife naked.
I took all the information I needed—name, credit card number, his wife's name, her dress size, her measurements. Well, I didn't really need her measurements but I was curious. Andy's voice had the timbre and resonance of a middle-aged man, but his wife Gina's measurements were not those of a middle-aged woman.
I replayed the conversation in my head. I heard two sides to Andy, and I didn't care for either. He began the conversation by trying to bully and intimidate. I suspected that he always started personal interactions very aggressively and that he would continue to consider himself king if not challenged. In our conversation, I challenged him. He transformed into an ass kisser almost instantaneously. His apparent anger had to have been part of his act, as did his subsequent obsequiousness. Both tactics pissed me off, and my course, heading, and bearing emerged. The U.S.S. Kirk was anxious to navigate into his little inlet named Gina. I have to be a ship to navigate. A big, powerful, churning, surging, thrusting cruiser that tirelessly and repeatedly spreads the wetness ahead while leaving a froth of white foam residue behind. With unerring navigational skills, Gina would "in let" me. I wasn't going fuck his wife as punishment for his boorish behavior. I was going to fuck her as a reward to her for putting up with her asshole husband.
I correctly guessed who they were as soon as they entered the store. A quick examination provided a great deal of information. He was at least 50, tall, well dressed, handsome, graying, fit, and assertive. She was close to 20, blonde, shapely, scantily dressed, beautiful, fit, and excited. I noticed that they wore matching wedding rings, so I jumped to a conclusion: a divorced big game hunter with his trophy and a gold digger with her loaded sugar daddy. I missed, but hey, you give it your best shot.
I introduced myself and he introduced Gina. I watched his face as I confirmed that I was going to provide the sales assistance to his wife. He twitched so slightly I barely saw it, but it didn't look like a pleased twitch to me. I asked if they needed assistance selecting clothes. He answered for both of them without consulting or even glancing at Gina. He decided to pick and choose without me. No surprise there.
As they looked, I looked. I was accustomed to seeing beautiful women in next to nothing, but Gina was breathtaking. Face, body, grace, voice, coordination….she had it all, and every part was superb. She was petite, but not skinny. Definitely not skinny. Maybe 5'4" in bare feet. Maybe 110 pounds soaking wet. Blonde. Blue eyes. Lightly bronzed with no visible tan lines. Shapely. The 35C-22-33 measurements Andy provided on the phone matched those my eyeballs made. Great nipples. Great skin. Great legs. Great ass. Great smile with brilliant white teeth. The whole enchilada.
She knew my eyes were locked on and I think she could tell I was hard. I felt the magic, and it surprised me. I had never sensed it so quickly. She had the slight blush of a gorgeous girl who knows men are staring but is not yet sure how to take advantage of it. I looked for signs that she could feel the magic flow to her from my eyes. Andy noticed my eyes as well. His smile conveyed the message that he owned a toy he was pleased to show off. His eyes conveyed the message that I had to be careful about the game I wanted to play with his toy.
Steely, hard eyes have never intimidated me, and in this case they firmed my resolve to deliver a body blow to his ego. It wouldn't be any fun to fuck his wife if he didn't see it. It wouldn't be nearly as much fun to fuck her if she didn't turn into hot molten lava in front of him. I wanted to fuck her in a way that she had never been fucked before. A way that would leave her demanding more of the same. A way that would leave her unwilling to accept less. A way that would leave him resigned to fucking his wife in a way that she would always recognize as inferior.
I listened to him as they shopped. "Gina, hold still. Here, hold this up against you. Oh yea, that will show you off". There was excitement in his voice, but he never asked her opinion. He didn't want her to pick anything for herself. Despite his dominance, or maybe because of it, she seemed to get more excited with each of his selections. Andy picked dresses, tops, skirts, lingerie, swimsuits, exercise clothes, gowns. Hell, he picked at least one of everything. The dollar signs in my eyes almost obscured my intent, but when her beauty reconnected with my brain I decided I had to try to fuck her. Shit, I made enough money and it would all be sold anyway.
"Gina you will try all these on for me. Right?" Where was the little dictator? It was the first question I heard him ask her.
"Oohh god honey. Some of them show so much."
"But you will?" Almost a plea. A hidden side?
"Ooohh yes. Ooohh god I will". Her first affirmation was tentative, her second much more resolute. "Oh honey I'm so excited. I love this place." It was almost a whisper.
They both noticed the ease of "accidental" exposure from the changing rooms. They stopped to watch a girl trying on a dress. The largest gap in the curtain was on the side that enabled them to see her reflection in the mirrors. She was topless as she stepped into the sexy little dress. "These are the best dressing rooms I've ever seen." Hell yes. I designed them.
"Honey! They don't give you any privacy." It was the first opinion she'd expressed on anything. She pretended to be angry, but her eyes sparkled.
Andy gestured at the two patients in the "Clinic". "Not a bit. They could see as much as we did". Then he whispered something I couldn't hear. I could hear Gina's moan in response. Gina looked at the men whose attention was riveted on the topless attraction in booth 2, and with good reason. The attraction was trying on another slinky dress. The constrictions that made the blood flow into Gina's nipples greater than the outflow were engaged, and her nipples were growing.
"Gina, go try on these dresses". The eagerness with which she took them from Andy's hands matched the excitement in her eyes. Three changing booths were available, and Gina chose the one closest to the "Clinic". She tried to pull the curtain so it would cover the entire opening. I saw the little smile as she saw the futility. The cloth was 6" narrower than the gap, but it could be placed so there was a 3" gap on each side or a 6" gap on one side or the other. The most revealing position placed the entire 6" gap on the mirror side, and this was the position she chose.
Andy took the last seat in the "clinic". Because it was on the near end, he could see Gina and watch the other two patients simultaneously. When she took off the dress she wore into the store, he heard the same gasps I did. The "Clinic" patients were receiving a shock treatment and it momentarily left them gasping. Gina was naked under her dress, which she was no longer under. I throbbed at the prospect of assisting her up close as she changed outfits.
She stepped into the new dress and looked at herself in the mirrors. "Honey, let me see". Andy spoke for all of us, and she opened the curtain to slowly turn around while we all leered at her. That wasn't enough for Andy. "C'mon over here, hon. I can't see that dress when you're so far away." Hell, the booth was only about 15 feet away, but I was right there with him.
She moved smoothly and elegantly, but something in the way she moved led me to believe she was flowing like a spigot. And then there were a couple of other clues, like her breath rate and the flush in her cheeks and, of course, her nipples. My god, her nipples. They were a whole lot more than bumps on her tits. They were rounded on the top, but the most noticeable aspect was the distance they protruded from her aureole. They were like tent poles, and the soft cotton gapped all the way around leaving an air pocket surrounding their cylindrical sides. Childless women didn't have nipples like that, but I would have bet big money that she didn't have any children. She was too narrow in the hips. Too innocent. Too fresh. Too clean.
"Turn around, hon. Let's see how it fits". Shit, she was almost within touching distance. She spun slowly and just kept going around a second time. The dress was short and we all knew there was nothing under it. I thought "Spin, baby, spin".
"What do you think, Kirk?" I was surprised. I didn't think he would ask.
It was a nice dress. Short, scoop neckline, soft cotton blend, light blue. I wanted more. "I don't think so. It's too plain for her Andy."
Gina didn't even pause for Andy's opinion before she glided back to the changing room. She didn't pull the curtain nearly as taut. The folds in the curtain increased the gap width. She removed the dress she had on and hung it up before taking the next dress off its hanger. We saw her naked for at least 20 seconds. Shaven cunt. Gorgeous tits. No stretch marks or fat anywhere. No tan lines. What an ass!
She didn't wait for Andy to beckon. She swiveled her way back to us and again turned around twice. Faster. Much sexier. Plunging neckline. Softer material. Shorter hemline. Light cream color. So light we could see the shadow of her aureole.
"Put that one aside, Gina. We'll take it in the fitting room. Go try on the other one." Now I was telling her what to do, but that was my job. I did it in a way that wasn't regal or threatening, unlike the way her husband gave commands. Andy didn't look thrilled, but he didn't say anything.
This time she opened the curtain to go in but just left it there. The gap was more than a foot, and we could see both mirrors through the gap. And Gina. She again stripped off her dress and hung it on a hanger, but she appeared to notice something on the dress. She turned toward us, ostensibly to improve illumination, and held the dress up close to her eyes. Her body faced us full on, and I could see light reflecting off the moisture around her cunt. It was apparent that she loved this game. I looked briefly at Andy, and I could see the glint in his eyes too. His face didn't have the sour and dour expression of a dictator or the fawning and toady expression of a bootlicker. I saw pride, joy, lust, and most of all love. I didn't expect it.
"Gina, bring that one with you. You can show me what you found." She looked at me. Her naked beauty entranced me so I wanted to fondle her with my eyes until she turned away. I finally realized she was contemplating whether she should really walk across my store naked, so I belatedly added, "Put on the last dress first".
Two of my sales assistants smiled at me. I didn't know any other woman who would have needed that last guidance. My cock twitched at the thought that I would be touching this submissive girl very soon.
She wore one dress and carried the other. She pointed out the tiny defect in the cloth, then handed the dress to me. My beautiful sales assistant Holly was watching, so I held it up and she walked over. "Holly, Gina noticed this defect in the cloth. Will you see if we have another in this size?" I placed it under the counter and Holly was on the way back with a replacement by the time I reperched on my throne. "Gina, thank you for noticing that blemish. I'll send it back for replacement. We'll alter the one Holly brought. Thank you Holly."
"You're welcome". They answered in unison, but the tones were different. Gina's voice was sexy, Holly's upbeat. Gina's eyes dwelt on mine as she spoke, and they gave away her passion. They were smoldering and sultry. She was so turned on. I think she felt the magic.
"Turn around for us again Gina". The dress was obscene in its brevity. Backless. Tied in back of the neck. A V-neck plunge to nearly her belly button. Black. Slinky. Short. The hemline couldn't have ended more than three inches below her cunt. The high heels she wore into the store looked as if they had been purchased with the dress. Black and shiny with tall spikes and ankle straps. She spun rather than turned, and every eyeball in the "clinic" saw her smooth pussy from no more than five feet, albeit extremely briefly.
I gathered all the other clothes Andy had selected for his wife. "Gina, just wear that one back to the fitting room." I waved at Holly again. "Holly, please collect Gina's clothes and bring them to Andy". Then I turned to face Andy. It was a critical juncture in the seduction game I was playing. I incorrectly thought I was the only player. "Andy, why don't you just sit here and relax. I'll have Gina model each of the items. When they become too revealing, come into the fitting room with us." His eyes had glazed when Gina spun to let all of us have a brief but close up view of her cunt, and from his phone call I knew he wanted to display her beauty. If he sat where he was, more men would see her. The kicker was that I would be in the fitting room alone with her.
He stared back at me. I could almost hear the wheels turning. When he finally spoke I was floored. "Kirk, I want you to check each of these items to see that they fit properly. Smooth the fabric to insure there are no wrinkles. Feel every seam while she's wearing the item to insure there are no loose threads. Check most carefully around her tits and her cunt."
I was supposed to measure and mark for alterations, not make them before she came out. But I know when to keep my mouth shut. "Every one will look like it was made for her or I won't send her out. If you see anything else you would like her to try, send it in with her."
Gina quietly moaned when Andy told me to check for loose threads around her tits and her cunt. It was as much the use of the words in front of the other two men sitting in the "clinic" as it was the instruction for me to feel up his wife that startled so thoroughly.
"Gina, you did agree to model all these items for me, right?" I guess Andy wanted to insure his wife was still turned on.
"Yes. Ooohhh my god yesss". Her tone radiated arousal. Her words anticipation.
"I'll wait right here".
My hard on was obvious to all when I stood, and the little grin on Andy's face was a clone to the little grin on Gina's. I opened the fitting room door and followed her in.
"Do you want the dress you're wearing?"
"Yes".
"Please stand on the platform while I mark for alterations. Unless you ask me to stop, I will also check all the garments in the manner your husband specified." I didn't say the words tits and cunt, but the meaning wouldn't have been clearer if I had.
"I won't tell you to stop". Carte blanche. I hadn't even put one finger on her and she told me I could do anything.
Gina was too narrow in the waist and too large in the tits for most clothes that fit her hips, so almost everything was going to need minor tailoring. I marked the first dress, then ran my fingers over all the seams, just as instructed. My fingers grazed her nipples, her ass, and her upper thighs as I did. Gina lightly moaned when her nipples moved ever so slightly from my touch. This beautiful girl was so ready to come.
"Gina, you must whisper to Andy what I have done to you each time you go out to model an item. Use the words you know he wants to hear. Tell him this time that I touched your nipples." I spoke in a normal tone of voice. The room was soundproof.
"Ooohhh god he will love it".
"Please remove it so I can hang it up here. We'll separate the ones you want from those you don't on these racks." She stared at my eyes as she stripped naked. My eyes laser beamed her cunt and didn't lose focus even as I hung up the dress she gave me. Shit, my cock was hard. I had her try on the replacement dress and marked it for alterations.
"We'll start with the evening gowns and move toward the see-through stuff. Here, try this one." I held it for her as she stepped into it, then zipped it up over her ass. I went through the sham of checking for hanging threads or other defects, this time moving her nipples more as I passed over them. Gina walked out the door and was back in a few minutes.
"What did Andy say?"
"Oooohhh god he said it made him hot. He whispered back that he wanted you to do more." This was fun. Gina could shuttle from me to Andy. I would feel her up and send her to him in a very sexy garment. She would tell him what I had done. I would escalate the foreplay as the clothes revealed more.
"Did he say what?"
"Nooo but he touched…ooohhh god ooohh he touched my nipples too."
"In front of those other men?"
"Mmmm yess. I'm so turned on".
"What did he think of the gown?"
"He didn't say".
"Did you ask?"
"No".
"Ask about both this time". I unzipped her gown and held it as she stepped out of it. I held the second gown as she stepped into it, then zipped it over her ass. She fidgeted as I dutifully checked for defects. When I finished I moved behind her and ran my hands over the gown, gently squeezing and pinching and stroking her tits for at least a minute. She watched my hands in the mirrors, and the multiple images made it appear hundreds were feeling her up. Her quiet moans were entrancing. I wanted to pull her tight against my cock, but I fought myself off.
"Tell him I felt you up. Tell him I said you have great tits".
When she returned, I asked her about the evening gowns. Both were backless, plunging, slit, and tight. Andy picked the one with the center slit that nearly reached her cunt, which was the one she was wearing. I marked it for alterations, then helped her strip. When she was standing nude on the platform in her spike heels, her cunt was about level with my nipples. It was a gorgeous cunt. Fleshy, engorged, slightly reddened, wet, protruding inner lips, and erect clitoris. In fact, it was the most gorgeous cunt I had ever seen. I stared at it as I spoke. "What did Andy say?"
"He wanted you to feel them without the dress in the way." How many times in your life are you asked to do exactly what you would have chosen to do anyway?
"Did he feel you up too?"
"Ooohh god he made me face those guys and got behind me. He felt me for a few seconds, but those guys…oohh god they couldn't take their eyes off my tits." Who could blame them? What tits! I loved having a conversation with this totally nude girl. What was the rush to cover her? Les is Mor.
"Well, there's no dress in the way now. I think you need to tell Andy that whatever I'm going to do from now on, you'll be naked." I stepped up on the platform and stood behind her again. I concentrated on smooth, gentle, slow, loving strokes as I caressed her naked tits from her rear. Gina's urgency wanted more forceful squeezing and grabbing and pinching, but I wanted her to be feverish by the time I fucked her. I fondled the outer slopes, cupped the undersides, stroked down toward her nipples from the top, occasionally brought both hands to one tit or the other, very gently pinched her aureole, and varied the pressure considerably but never enough to satisfy her want. Her head never stopped rotating, and she could see herself being stroked from left, right, above, and directly in front. She was almost whimpering after a couple of minutes and her knees buckled briefly once.
She knew that I was intentionally refraining from doing what would feel better than what I was doing to her, but her only effort to increase her own pleasure was to thrust her entire chest toward my hands. I didn't even touch her nipples, but her quiet moans and hunching hips clued me that she might be able to orgasm from breast stimulation alone. I intended to keep her poised at the brink of orgasm for a very long time. I would need to be very careful. I knew her submissive, passive nature would never let her ask for more and that she would not provide it for herself. She was already in a zone of arousal that removed her from most rationality, and I could feel the magic pushing her into the zone past reality.
A protracted interval of constant stimulation without orgasm is always torture. It is also a necessary prelude to the most overpowering, intensely pleasurable and memorable orgasms. I held the reins to Gina's arousal and I planned to subject her to the most potent erogenous torture for as long as I could. Her mental stimulation depended on my words and on the extent of her exposure. I chose the garments that exposed, so I regulated what she displayed. I chose my words to stir, to inflame, to agitate but not to promise quick satisfaction. She needed to know she was going through my torture chamber and she needed to submerge into and then relish its agony.
Her physical stimulation would also depend entirely on what I did to her if I could stop Andy from feeling her up when she modeled for the patients in the "clinic". It was my fucking store and I couldn't have a customer being felt up in front of other customers, could I?
I selected a gauzy see-through sleeveless blouse and a wrap around skirt that was probably a size too small for her. Hey, I didn't select it originally. Her husband knew her size. I didn't say anything as I dressed her and her glazed eyes didn't appear to care. I helped her off the platform as soon as she was dressed. I seemed to forget the stupid seam-checking shit.
"Gina, tell Andy he can't feel you up in my store. I could lose my sales license." I knew there was the option for him to move into the fitting room, but I hoped he wasn't ready for that yet. I didn't think he would. His eyes were too excited when Gina displayed her cunt to the patients.
Just before she walked out the door I reminded her. "Don't forget to tell him you will be nude for everything from now on." Then I added, "Oh yeah. Tell him I love the smell of your cunt and that I can't wait to use it."
Her moan accompanied her body out the door, and there was no soundproofing when the door was open. She had just announced to everybody in my store, "Hey, I'm so hot I'll fuck a pervert" or something along that line. I couldn't wait to see how Andy received that bit of good news.
Well, I don't want to bore you with all the little details regarding the Gina shuttle service so I'll just give you the big picture items. Andy remained in the "clinic" with the other two patients through Gina's entire one-woman show. Gina delivered on her promise to model every item Andy had selected, and the last few rivaled what was left at the end of a dance at a gentlemen's club. Rivaled doesn't always mean less revealing. Some revealed more. No, there weren't any dollar bills hanging out when she returned to the fitting room but the baby doll nightgown and the sheer peignoir and the swimsuit cover (minus the swimsuit) had no place to hang them.
Gina also delivered on her statement that she wouldn't stop me, and as she modeled increasingly revealing outfits the time interval between each walk down her personal runway increased. My descriptions and promises became more graphic as my hands and mouth wandered further, and her mental pliability embraced each obscene word, gesture, or touch with passion. She was nude when she wasn't on that runway, and I was right there with her for about the last five or six items she modeled. I did everything except fuck her and I must have stopped twenty times when she was on the verge of crossing that tenuous strand into orgasm. I made her stop several times when I nearly crossed that same isthmus. Her torture and my torture coincided, but the magic was never more potent. There was nothing in my puny brain except this game and the magic that filled me to my core.
Gina continued to whisper to Andy exactly what I told her to whisper. He was apprised of each escalation in our erotic dance, and he was stretched by the same instruments in the same torture chamber of lust we were in. Gina reported that his hard on never flagged and that the other patients appeared to be similarly disabled. A contagious disability? I had it too. As our progression from hands on Gina to mouth on Gina to hands on Kirk to naked Kirk to mouth on Kirk to hands and mouth on Gina and Kirk continued, I expected Andy to try to stop it several times. I thought the key hurdle was when I first stripped and she stroked me, especially when I made her tell him how big I was. Gina said he became even more excited when she told him. When Gina was about to model her last bit of nothing, I asked her to whisper just once more. "Tell Andy I'm ready to fuck you. Bring him back with you so he can watch us."
As soon as she left I pulled a single-bed mattress from behind the racks in the corner and put a clean sheet on it, then placed it in the center of the alteration platform. The mattress was considerably larger than the 3-foot-diameter fitting platform, but it would work fine. Don't question me on it. Girls like the ceiling mirror. Also, Andy needed the couch, which I swung around so it was within a foot of the makeshift performance stage.
I prayed my hard on would subside, at least a little, from the exertion. Nope. It still quivered when Gina entered while holding Andy's hand. As soon as they were inside, she shut and locked the door, stripped off the sheer swimsuit cover, and then she kissed him with such passion that I wasn't sure I was going to be the first to fuck her. Andy broke the kiss and gently pushed his gorgeous wife toward me. I looked at him and he playfully smiled at me. His beautiful wife and I were newborn naked and drowning in arousal, but probably no more so than he. Subliminal doubts erupted into an open question. Had I misjudged him? I pondered for, oh, maybe a nanosecond before ever fiber of my being refocused on his wife.
I kissed her trying to feel and transmit the magic with my lips, my tongue, my hands, my body, my cock, and my soul. The magic was more powerful and more potent than it had ever been, and my whole being converged on the primal motion between my cock and her cunt. She was still in her spike heels, and I squatted enough to align my cock with the drenched entrance to her cunt. I pushed forward as I heartily tugged her ass toward me. It was just enough to seat my cockhead inside. Her scream was startlingly loud, and nobody could have mistaken it for a wail of pure pleasure.
I was too far into the rut to stop. I lifted her ass with both hands and raised her high enough to let gravity finish the job of full insertion. I kissed her again as she slowly sunk and I simultaneously penetrated. I grieved when I had to break the kiss in order to lodge my pubic bone next to hers. I was a few inches too tall. I also rejoiced when I had to break the kiss because Gina's moan held only rapture. Her grinding when I was finally seated induced her first orgasm. The torture was over for her and I knew she felt the same intense magic I did.
"Ooohhh god ooohhh yes ooohhh thank you thank you oohhh I'm coming oohh god." To this day I don't know how I kept from losing it at that moment. Or why. The hours of foreplay, her beauty, her eager acceptance of any torture I dealt, her intense passion and lust, the magic flowing so powerfully, her wanton release--I couldn't imagine anything more exciting. As I reflect, I think maybe my conscience overrode my libido. When I was in the army I must have heard "a stiff prick has no conscience" a few hundred times. Now….?
My peripheral vision told my subconscious mind that Andy was seated on the couch so close he could have touched any part of her body, but whatever part of the mind I was using was feeling Gina and the magic and my cock.
"Ooohhh god honey it's even better than we hoped…ooohhh god I love it…fuck me oohh god fuck me." It sunk in, slowly, that this had been their objective even before they came in my store. There had been clues. I assured myself that she was getting the fuck of her life, as I vengefully intended, but I mentally slapped my own cheek. I was the manipulative asshole in this game. I lifted Gina off. The magic was gone.
"Andy, I'm sorry. I hated you yesterday because of the way I thought you were. I hate myself now because I've acted in an even more disgusting way." There was shock and disappointment on both faces, but Andy gently smiled.
"Kirk, sit down. Gina, sit next to him. Keep him interested." We sat and she stroked my cock with a lustful gusto I didn't feel. Nevertheless, my cock never softened. Gina and I sat silently as he spoke.
"This has been one of the most exciting days of my life and I hope it isn't over yet. You are feeling guilty over your intentions toward Gina. She is a beautiful, innocent, passionate girl and I love her totally. When we walked in the door your intent was to fuck her, but not because she was so beautiful. You wanted to fuck her to show me, to get back at me, to get vengeance. I hadn't planned on telling you this because everything was working perfectly. Gina was in the process of being fucked better than she has ever been fucked, and this was our intent. Before I called you yesterday, I knew a lot about you. My ******** used to work here, and one night when we were baring our souls after her mother's death, she said the best sex she ever had was with you in your fitting room."
"Who is your ********?"
"Jenny. Anyway, about six months later, I hired Gina. She is a wonderful secretary and a very caring person. She entered my life at the time my thoughts about sex were driving me nuts, and she dressed in such skimpy things that in most of my masturbation fantasies I fucked her. She later confessed that she loved it when my eyes followed her. She admitted she teased me and wore clothes to entice me."
"I did. We masturbated to the same fantasies." The word masturbation fit She continued to stroke and my cock betrayed me. It stayed hard. A stiff prick has no conscience?
"Before I knew it, I had fallen in love with her. She is so much younger that I ignored my attraction as much as I could. Who could saddle such a beautiful young girl, ready for a ****** and a youthful husband, with an old fart like me? But soon, I felt like she was pursuing me."
"I was". I loved her voice.
"Her dress became even more revealing in the office. She showed off for me even when there were other men in my office, especially clients. I never admonished her and she told me later she could tell I was even more turned on when she flaunted her body at me when other men could see her do it. Well, she was right. I felt guilty because I thrilled so much when she did it. I still don't understand why it excites me so much."
"I don't understand why it turns me on so much either, honey." My theory: there's an exhibitionism gene that is dominant in beautiful women. ********* of beautiful showoffs are showoffs.
"We talked at work and it came out that she couldn't have children due to a childhood illness. We began to talk after work in a little bar down the street, and her displays in public turned me on even more than what she did in the office. Well, you can probably guess the rest. I fucked her after one of our nights in the bar. Soon, I began to fuck her at work, and her exhibitionism was part of our foreplay. When she let clients see her tits, her panties, or once in awhile her bare cunt, I would attack her as soon as they were out the door." He paused to think but Gina never paused. She looked at Andy while she slowly drew her tongue along my throbbing cock. She had already been all over my cock with her mouth before Andy joined us. Seeing the love in her eyes turned me on for some reason.
"The romance and the sex were the best of my life. We got married about eight months ago."
"I couldn't have misjudged you more." Loving, caring, honest. No dictator. No ass kisser.
"No, you were right. That phone call yesterday? I behaved so rotten in order to put you in exactly the frame of mind you were in. Would you have ever considered fucking Gina in front of me if you weren't trying to show me what a stud you were and what an asshole I was?" He was right. It was the root of my guilt. I was trying to fuck his wife to get back at him.
"No. My sex life is private. Or at least I thought it was until Jenny spilled the beans. You should be proud of her—she is a wonderful and very passionate young lady. Tell her she's at the top of my heap too." Shit. I was talking to a father about what a great fuck his ******** was. Somehow, it was ok.
"I will. Or maybe not. The circumstances would have to be right. Anyway, you fell into our little web until your guilt caught you, and here we are."
"And you want me to fuck your beautiful young bride in front of you?" I didn't understand their fantasy. I guessed that Andy couldn't keep up with Gina's desires and that was the reason they were here, but I didn't want to pry too much. Hell, I guessed that I probably wouldn't be able to either, but it would be fun to try.
"Yes. We've even talked about letting other men fuck her on our honeymoon. It excites the hell out of us, but you were our first 'victim'." Fly. Victim. Those images don't have the same distaste when the spider looks like Gina. I looked at her and the magic began to flow again. She had never stopped stroking my cock, and she kissed and licked it frequently while Andy was talking.
"Better make that 'are our first victim' instead of 'were our first victim'." I don't think the magic ever left her, so I turned to kiss Andy's wife again. We were seated right next to him, and this time I didn't intend to fuck her to show her how much better than her husband I was, but rather to complete a fantasy for them. I was drawn into their fantasy, and it almost felt like a triangular love that all three of us shared equally.
The magic had a different feel. The sexual arousal was as intense as it had ever been, but there was an additional gift to my senses. It was as if all the hatred that had driven the game originally transformed into loving, caring, wholesome emotions. I stood and pulled Gina up, then asked her to lie down on the mattress. The mirrors had fascinated her in the long foreplay she endured, and I wanted her to be able to see my ass moving quickly and forcefully on the ceiling mirror as I fucked her. Andy was also in a perfect position to watch, and I intended to let him see everything as a shared experience rather than as a punishment.
Well, that was the pinnacle of my sex life so far. We were in that fitting room long past closing and I didn't even bother to check whether my sales assistants had closed everything up. I fucked her, Andy fucked her, she sucked us both, I fucked her while she sucked Andy and vice versa. We played, we laughed, we loved, and we fucked and we fucked and we fucked.
Andy bought all the clothes Gina wanted, of course, after checking to insure all the alterations were right. Those weren't the only alterations from that day. Gina now works as one of my sales assistants, and when Andy needs a little therapy from the "clinic", Gina is thrilled to provide the overexposure his eyeballs desire. Les is Mor. God, I love that girl's raw sexuality. Andy always arrives about an hour before closing, and after his therapy in the "clinic" we make sure all the garments are marked for alterations in the fitting room. I think the magic is more potent than it has ever been. Maybe both of us will be able to satisfy her strong desires indefinitely. Maybe not. We may require more "Alterations for Gina".
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