0 comments/ 103080 views/ 4 favorites Changing Rooms By: Goddess_Kali It's summer in Glasgow and unbearably hot. The sky is bright blue and the contrast against the brick red of the tenements opposite my bedroom window is forcing me to wear sunglasses in bed. I have a free day and plan to spend it shopping, maybe meeting friends for coffee or more probably a beer-garden pint of cider or two later on. First I have to get into town. I need new underwear, having lost the stubborn fifteen pounds of weight that I habitually lose and gain every year, most of it seems to have gone from my breasts this time and I cannot run for a bus without spilling out of my cups. The journey is uneventful. I take the underground, the 'clockwork orange' as it's apparently called. I have never heard a Glaswegian call it this, but it's a small orange train on a circular line. It's really far too warm and I'm wearing a short flouncy black skirt, Dr Marten's sandals, a black vest and sunglasses. My hair is tied back and bits of badly-dyed red fall lose over my face. They're sweaty and annoying. I'm wearing a thong underneath the skirt. It's far too hot and irritating for knickers today, but the thong is my concession. I don't really like to go commando in public. People stare at me enough without giving them even more reason. I'm close onto six foot tall, I hope it's not too breezy out, but the skirt is just above knee length and I *do* have a nice arse. My arms are bare and passers-by gawp at my tattooed arms. One and a half full sleeves, I'm very proud of my tattoos and live up to my 'bad-girl' image by innuendo and half-truths. First stop and ultimate lingerie department - Fraser's of Glasgow. Air-conditioned. Palatial. Up the sweeping front stairs like I'm in 'Gone With the Wind' I browse the bras, pick up a few lacy numbers in greens and blues – being very pale skinned and brunette, I think they work better with my skin tones – not like anyone else is ever going to see them, anyway. I don't have to queue for the changing room and nod at the petite blonde who shows me to a curtained room with a small wicker chair and Pot Pourri on a shelf by the full-length mirror. Left to my own devices, I strip to the waist and stand for a moment by the rotating fan, lifting my arms above my head to dry the sweat; I turn and let the air hit my back. As I thought, none of the bras fit very well and I poke my head around the curtain to beckon the changing room assistant. She smiles and walks over lazily. I explain that I think I need a smaller cup size. 'Well, we better measure you up…put your bra back on and I'll get a tape measure.' She returns with the tape measure and asks me to lift my arms. The tape encircles me and she asks what size I'm currently wearing, '38DD' 'Hmmm. I make you a 36D, turn around.' I do so. She pulls at the back of my bra, 'See…it's riding up at the back. Definitely a 36'. It's warm in the changing room but I shiver at her touch and turn around with a start. She doesn't move away, but glances down at my left breast. The bra I am wearing is sheer black and more or less completely see-through 'Do you only have one nipple pierced?' she asks. I nod. Unable to find my voice, I clear my throat, 'Ummm. Yes…' she reaches out a hand and looks me straight in the eye. 'How does it feel when someone takes your nipple in their mouth?' 'I…Ummm. ' I can hear my breath quickening as I try to reply, 'Ummm…good?' It's more of a question than a matter of fact. I've only had the nipple pierced for a number of months and haven't slept with anyone since. She moves her hand to the strap on my left shoulder and pulls it slowly down. She looks me in the eye and I nod almost imperceptibly. Her head lowers and she gently sucks at the nipple that she has freed. My hands move to her head and wind in her short dirty blonde spiked hair as she bites and releases, her hand working the other nipple. I think I might fall over. Her hands travel towards the waistband of my skirt and as I feel my cunt grow wetter, she gently propels me towards the chair. I sit gratefully, light-headed as she unbuttons her blouse and looks at me, 'I think the bra was too loose. Are your panties too tight?' 'They're wet. My pants are wet.' She kneels between my legs and runs her hands from knee to thigh. The fan rotates and sends blasts of cold air across my nipples. Her head lowers to my knees and she starts to lick up my thighs. Just as she reaches the top of my inner thigh I remember that there is a full-length mirror in the room and we're reflected in the pastel tones of the changing room mirror. I can see her short blonde hair curling around the back of her neck. She has a small black tattoo at the small of her back, she wears no bra and her hand is between her own legs, rubbing at her clit as she starts to tongue me. I manage to look myself in the eye and grin before I rest my head back and look at the cracked artex ceiling. My hips rise involuntarily. I try to keep my knees far apart, so that she has an easier access. She uses her tongue well, it obviously isn't her first time in eating a woman. I wonder if she does this all the time…with the brides coming in for their wedding bustieres, the young women whose boyfriends wait outside the changing rooms? I stop thinking… all there is to think about is how her tongue feels lapping at my clit. Her free hand moves up and she starts to work a finger into my cunt. Two fingers, three…moving rhythmically, I'm almost about to come. I look up at my face in the mirror, flushed red, mouth open panting for air, I pull at my nipples and think that I see the curtain move, it must be the breeze from the fan… 'Miss Bonner!!!' The man entering the changing room looks quite annoyed. I attempt to pull down my skirt and cover my breasts at the same time. I stand up and calculate that Stuart McDonald (he has a name badge!) is just over six foot two. He has dark hair, cut short, long sideburns. He would be better dressed in skate-kid clothes than the pinstriped suit that he wears in his day-job, 'Miss Bonner! You are already on a warning for your past behaviour. This will not look well in front of the management board.' Miss Bonner pouts. 'I'm sorry. I'm very sorry Stuart…' She corrects herself, 'Mr McDonald, it's just…it's such a hot day and my job is so boring…' She glances at me, 'and the customer is so pretty…don't you agree?' He can't or won't look at me. I look at him and notice a perceptible bulge in his pinstriped pants. He notices me staring. Almost blushes. After all there are two partially naked women in the changing room. He glances at me quickly. 'Miss Bonner, did you fit this customer?' I stifle a giggle at the terrible double-entendre. Miss Bonner nods. 'Then you know her size?' 'Yes' 'And you know your size, obviously. Please dress and select an assortment of merchandise that would be appropriate for the customer and yourself and return to the room. I will take care of this customer in your absence.' Miss Bonner dresses hurriedly and exits. The curtain swishes closed. Mr McDonald finally looks at me. Very slowly, from head to foot. He holds out a hand and I take it as I am pulled to my feet. Changing Rooms This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, or events mentioned are purely coincidental and not meant to get the authors into any trouble. ********************************** It wasn't that different than college, really. Watching people. See what they did when no one was looking. Well, when they thought no one was looking. Gabriel looked down at the blonde trying desparately to get into the size 8 jeans. Give it up honey he sighed, and moved his attention back to the kids trying to peak under her door. From their vantage point, hidden inside one of the circular clothes rack outside the changing area, they could probably only see about halfway up her calf. From his...well, he could see her whole world. And it was crashing in on her as she realized she was never going to fit into those jeans. He'd been a watcher all his life. A skinny boy on the playground witnessing the schoolyard fight. The fan in the stands seeing his high school team score and the cheerleaders bounce. It was college that opened his eyes to the power of it, however. Cultural Anthropology with a Sociology minor. All you really had to do was be observant and then communicate what you see. Unfortunately, he had only been adept at one of the two requirements. The shapely blonde slunk off to lick her wounds and the boys in the rack hunkered down to see if anyone else worth peeping would come along. In many ways, he was proud of them. Spunky little 12-year-olds out to find out about this pre-pubescent sexuality. Still, he'd have to turn them in if they persisted in drawing attention from any passersby. He zoomed in an overhead aisle camera to see them giggling and peering out between satin robes. He sat back and remembered the good old days. Right out of college, a useless degree in his hand and no demonstrable skills. But he could watch people. For hours and hours, he would watch people. He'd worked at all the big stores... Sears, Penny's, even Montgomery Wards. Initially he just worked floor security, but finally moved up to watching the stalls. The changing stalls had become a very sought after job among professional voyeurs at that time. Still, there was enormous turnover. Sex crimes background checks, lie detectors, and videoed surveillance rooms ate everyone up. Gabe always assumed there was a camera on him anytime he was watching the stalls. He never beat off, he never took pictures, and he never brought friends in to watch. And he became a local legend in catching lifters. He got to work with all the department and clothing stores at one time or another, and better yet, he got paid to watch people undress. Some were 'strippers,' really playing it up for themselves in the mirror. Beautiful and ugly alike staring into his eyes unkowingly as they worked their butt or bustline. Some were 'unwilling flashers,' businesslike undressers who changed back and forth so fast you'd think the stall was ten below zero. A few buyers pressed and folded everything back perfectly, neglecting to get dressed for quite a while. And a very few were the kinks, the lovers, and the lifters. And it was not all about the stripping. Busting the lifters made him feel powerful. Young boys liked to swap their old clothes for new ones, men stuffed their own clothes with items, and women usually bagged it. He began to recognize patterns and predict the buyers from the lifters. The way a woman waited on the attendant to turn her back, or the way a man would look around the stall once inside. It was as if he were an angel, keeping tabs on the sins and ringing them up. But when technology caught up with him, he had to reevaluate his reasons for his chosen profession. Security strips and cameras had slowly pushed him out of first one, and then all of the major chain stores. Each time he would be offered the security "spy in the sky" job for the floor, but he turned it down. Eventually, he had to admit the truth to himself. The stalls turned him on and he couldn't give them up. Technology, and privacy laws, were pushing him out. That's why Bussleman's was his last chance. It was the only clothing store in the area that still used a stall security camera. He had jumped at the offer when Mr. Bussleman had called him, hardly noticing the cut in pay. As he saw it, he'd broken even in the deal. He was the only one left, the only stall man hired. And that left him doing it 10 hours a day six days a week for the past three months. And sometimes he'd come in seven days a week. What else did he have to do that compared? The set up was ingenious really. Regular ceiling surveillance hidden in black bubbles along the changing row. None had a clear direct shot into the stalls which fooled the inspectors. But each had a small mirror that, when positioned just right and zoomed, showed the stalls. One camera relied on a complex arrangement of three mirrors to get a dressing customer fully into view. The boys had grown tired of the aging women and business men going in and out of the stalls and snuck off. Almost immediately afterward, a cute brunnette in a red mini ducked into number one. Everything she had on was red: socks, underwear, bra. And everything she tried on was red as well. And slinky. That usually meant she would pose a bit, but unfortunately she was a speed changer and even the ground coverage failed to show much. Just another Madonna wannabe with a red fetish, he shrugged. Gabe had added two cameras of his own design and unknown to anyone else. Both were pinholes with incredible clarity which had cost a pretty penny. They sent images to a receiver he carried in his changing bag, while he kept the remote in his pocket. The two lucky stalls which hid them were the obvious choices, one and six. Stall one was the first changing room and the most used. Stall six was far in the back, and attracted the people who wanted privacy. That was his favorite. If a good candidate came in, just a click on the remote saved the visit for posterity. Or more specifically, for his collection safely hidden at home. Two teenager girls smacking gum and laughing almost burst in on an unsuspecting middle aged man trying on running shorts. He was mid-step into the second leghole when they ran right into the locked door, flailing and shouting. As soon as they realized their mistake, they ran into an open stall, obviously howling in embarrasment. The man, who just had to be an accountant Gabe surmised, almost died from his embarrasment, having fallen forward sharply and striking his balding head on the side of the mirror. Trying to untangle his feet, check on his bruised forehead, and meanwhile repeating "Occupied!" at the top of his lungs made for an interesting spectacle. Gabe found himself smiling at his job as often as he was aroused. The girls hid out for a while making sure their balding victim cleared far away before coming out. Apparently in the same sorority, one didn't wear a bra under her lettered sweat shirt and didn't think anything about lifting it in front of her motormouth friend. Not having a pinhole in four, Gabe adjusted the overhead to look at her as she changed. A B-cup barely, but definitely young and perky. Pink, puffy nipples were no longer his cup of tea but these were nonetheless impressive. She even rubbed across them once, but seemed to be oblivious to anything buy the syrupy conversation. Gabe glanced over to the wide camera, thinking that the peeping boys might be back with all the loud voices emanating from the stalls. Instead, he saw Mrs. Bussleman chatting with the clerk who was reracking clothes. With her back facing toward him, he could not see her face, but he knew her instantly. She was always stunning, but truly a rare treat since she only visited the store on special occasions. Claudia Bussleman looked about 20 years younger than her husband, but matched his friendly demeaner. He had only met her twice, and both times he found himself stumbling for words. She had an incredibly beautiful face, one of those profiles that screamed former Miss Junior Cotton Festival. But she hid her age well with shoulder-cropped dark hair and dark glasses. Perpetually smiling, she always seemed to touch the person in front of her during conversation, as if she could listen more intently while absorbing you though her fingers. Gabe still shivered when he thought of her handshake. As he watched her in front of the stalls, engaged in a lively chat with Bernice, he recognized her outfit even from the back. On several occasions he had forgotten the stalls and trailed her through the store and had now seen it from every angle, a $1200 business skirt and jacket. He couldn't recall the designer, but he new the design, for he had dreamed about it many times. Well-cut formal jacket that was so blue it almost looked velvet, hiding a white low-cut blouse that rose and fell as her bosom moved. Any male within twenty feet of her stared directly at her cleavage as she talked, hoping that any one of her gesticulations would reveal a little more of her gorgeous shape. Her skirt never rode up her thigh and he had never gotten a full look at her long legs. But her calf emptied into her high-heel in such a way as to suggest that her legs were worth the price of upkeep. Suddenly, Mrs. Bussleman headed back through the stalls, confidently striding to the two co-eds still hidden in their stall. Gabe had never seen her in the stall area and smiled as he anticipated her stopping to knock on their door to hush them up in her own sweet way. But she traveled past the door and opened the door to number six. Instantly, the smile faded from Gabe's lips. His eyes intent on one screen in front of him, he managed to do three things at once: converge two overhead cameras on the sixth stall from above, click on the ground camera to begin taping, and begin a silent chant of "Oh please, Oh please, Oh please." As she secured the door behind her, he saw her face for the first time. And she was smiling. In his dark room, Gabriel stared down as he zoomed the monitors, the quiet glow of light on his face as he gazed at her. He watched intently for that little look... there. He saw it again. Unmistakable this time, he saw her look right at the nearest overhead camera and smile. That meant she knew the angles, the mirrors. And that meant she knew he could see her. She was inviting him to watch her and he was afraid his heart might explode before he was able to comply. Mrs. Bussleman put something on the hook and looked at herself in the mirror. From camera two, Gabe saw a silk slip on a hanger. This could be the jackpot. He watched her hands reach up to pull her lapels open to her shoulders. Her jacket slipped down her arms and was hung on the hook beside her. Her blouse had slipped over one shoulder and she did nothing to pull it back up. He leaned forward and zoomed closer from one. Holy shit, he said out loud, there were her nipples. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath. Zooming in further to see the outline of her breasts, he made out their shape well enough to know that they were raised and taught against the cloth. He was aware of his growing erection but resisted the urge to rub up against the desk to soothe his desire. Besides, it was difficult keeping a close up focused on her moving body while glancing back to her profile in camera two. She was unzipping her skirt now and doing it agonizingly slowly. God, she was cool, unhurried in any movement and never wasting a motion. She hooked her thumbs into the top of her skirt and slowly pushed it down her legs, finally bowing before the mirror. He wished he could see the ground view he thought, as he manipulated the view on the monitor. She stepped out of her skirt and proceeded to fold it across another hanger. After she was done, she stretched out one leg and placed her high-heeled shoe on the changing bench in front of her. Leaning over, she adjusted the strap, but did not take either shoe off. Gabe moved the lens over her long leg and up to the back of her thigh. The wrinkled bottom of her blouse prevented him from seeing higher, but he was fascinated with her poise. Somehow, she was bending over and looking back at herself in the wall mirror and somehow making it look classy. As she straighted, back still turned toward the mirror, she tensed her buttocks and wiggled a bit. Erection still growing, Gabriel found himself smiling again. She put her legs together and lifted the back of her blouse up just enough for her to see her ass underneath. From his camera angles, he couldn't see underneath, but thought he saw a wisp of black under there as she admired her backside. Letting her blouse go, she ran one hand through her tumbling hair and turned to face the image in the mirror. With one hand she lifted the front of her blouse up to her stomach and ran her other hand down to adjust a pair of black thong panties. Gabe watched intently as her fingertips slipped quickly underneath the cloth and then slowly slid up the edge to the hip. She was looking down at her hand on its spectacular journey, when she rolled her head back with eyes closed and reached up to pull her blouse over her head. Before he could remember to thank God, Gabe was staring at the topless woman of his dreams. She stood looking innocently at herself in the mirror for a moment, before simply dropping her blouse. She leaned her head over to one side and looked closely at her image. She had perfect breasts, voluptuous and pear shaped with beautiful tanned nipples hardening over each mound. Her arms moved forward, pressing her cleavage together and then apart again. Crossing her body, one hand cupped under a breast and then circled it slowly moving ever inward to the nipple. And then pinching slightly, she held the nipple for the briefest of times before letting go. All the while she stared at herself as if watching a twin. Gabriel's cock was now straining as he leaned forward to the edge of the desk. Without thinking, he was soon rubbing against the wood as he watched her lick first one and then the other index finger and tease her breasts again. She stood almost absent-mindedly circling her nipples slowly with a wistful look on her face, as if imagining herself somewhere else. Eventually one hand trailed down to the band of her underwear and caressed it for a second. He guided the close-up to see her hand lay flat against her stomach and slip downward into her sexy black cloth. The fingers didn't travel far before stopping and then they started to move almost imperceptively inside the narrow thong. He saw her mouth slip open then and let out a small sigh as she closed her eyes once again. She stood with arm cradling one breast and touching herself for mere seconds, but he had never seen anything more beautiful. Suddenly the image was blurry and he looked back up to see that she had turned around to bend over her small purse lying on the bench. He focused in on her revealed ass hiding the thong stap from the rear and caught the outline of her breast from the side. Before long, she laid the purse onto the floor underneath the bench and turned to face the mirror once again. This time, she began to dance. With her feet barely moving, she undulated slowly to an exotic rhythm that only they heard. Her hips and body swayed back and forth as her arms moved over her naked skin. Eventually she began to spin in quarter circles, playing with the top of the thong panties as if testing to see which side would come down her body easiest. As she faced away again, she looked over her shoulder and pulled them all the way down her long legs, finally revealling her pussy from behind as she leaned forward. Only a glimpse, but he saw the upturned ass cheeks spread slightly as the black material peeled between them to show her shadowed flesh. Before he could stop himself, he was holding his crotch and outlining the length of his cock with his free hand. Claudia stepped back out of her panties and ran one hand up the inside of her leg before standing upright again. Her manicured fingers stopped at her velvety crossroads and sampled her moist heat. And before he could blink she had spun to sit down on the bench, legs askew. As she settled in, one leg drew up so that she could rest a heel on the edge of the corner of the bench. From this position, Gabe tried to focus in on her neatly trimmed cunt now spreading before his very eyes. Her arm was in the way as she reached underneath her thigh to get something. He continued to stroke himself through his clothes while trying to see what she was doing with her hands. Once he was zoomed in and focused, he saw her slipping on what looked like a fake finger. As he stared at it, he realized it was covering mostly the pad of her left index finger and she held it in front of her pussy while her other hand reached back underneath her again. Suddenly he realized that it was a fingertip vibrator and she was going to play with herself before him. By the time she had melted back against the wall to inspect her vibrating finger, he already had his pants undone and down to his thighs. His throbbing cock lept out across the table as he strained to see what was happening. He thought of the noise and quickly looked to see that the chatty teenage girls were the only other customers in the stalls and they seemed oblivious to any buzzing sound coming from their neighbor. As he circled his member with his hand he saw that Mrs. Bussleman had shifted herself so that she could hang her ass partially off the bench and lean back comfortably to watch herself in the mirror. Her hands were seductively massaging her pussy lips as the pulsating finger hovered over her opening flower. She stared at her image with eyes half-closed while fingering her wet fleshy lips and rubbing her own juices over her little toy. By the time she finally touched herself with it, Gabriel was stroking the full length of his cock in earnest, sure that he would cum at any moment and miss all the glorious details. When her finger finally touched her pussy, her body tensed immediately. The fingertip toy slid down into her cunt briefly and then back up to just over her throbbing clit. She was already beginning to move her hips and stomach to adjust the sensations. Before long, her other hand cradled her breast and massaged it as she opened her lips to let escape her first moans of pleasure. Gabe breathlessly pumped his engorged member as he looked away to see the college girls stop and stare at each other. They looked around the stall and then one pointed to the wall adjoining Claudia's bench. Looking back, he saw Claudia, mouth open and dreamily staring at the fingertip dance over her cunt. The girls each buried their mouths in their hands as one leaned forward to put her ear on the wall. Their eyes were huge as they stopped talking for the first time and listened to the moaning that Gabe could only imagine. With her stomach twitching feverishly now, Claudia's free leg straightened out to push against the stall door for leverage. This must have caused a loud bang, because the co-ed's ear flew off the wall as she looked back at her friend and smiled. Then both girls were putting their ears to the wall as the steady moans continued. They must hear the buzzing now, thought Gabriel, as he felt his own thighs twitch in anticipation. He watched her finger herself and felt his own orgasm at hand. Claudia came first in a rapid fire stream of events. Her face turned heavenward as if eating a grape fed to her by the gods, eyes closed, and legs tensing. The hand over her pussy disappeared as her legs engulfed it in spasm. Then her body quivered uncontrollably for what seemed like minutes as waves of pleasure escaped her clit and cunt. As she was panting and flinching less and less, Gabe came all over his pumping fist, the table, and even the controls and lower monitors. His cum flew in every direction in white, fiery lava droplets. He heard his own moan of release and nearly fainted against the screens before him. His hand stroked a few more times and then held the base of his penis as it twitched its gratitude and exhaustion. Changing Rooms What snapped him immediately back into reality was the sound of keys just outside the security office door. Eyes dancing, he lifted his hand and scraped the cum up off the table and backwards onto the carpet. He zipped his pants and rerouted both cameras instantly, just before the doorknob turned in a sound of jingling. The door opened and a smiling Jim Bussleman came into the room. Gabe's heart was pounding and he was sure that he looked as disheveled as he felt. The smell of sperm filled his nose and he looked up to find the screens staring at odd angles around the store. "How's it hangin' Gabe?" The jaunty owner grinned and came over to look at the monitors. "Any excitement tonight?" "No, sir. Pretty boring tonight, sir." "What's wrong with the cameras?" They both stared at camera one and two, one looking straight down zoomed in on a bad toupee and the other looking up at the corner of the store. Gabe couldn't think of anything right off. He looked at his boss, who glanced at him quizzically. "I... well. Just then, as you came in. I mean. I sneezed. And knocked the cameras out of alignment." Mr. Bussleman looked at the table and monitors for a moment, then smiled broadly for Gabe. "Yeah, you got it all over. I'd better get you some tissue. And a Nyquil. Can't have my best employee coming down sick, can I?" He slapped Gabe on the back and strode out of the room chuckling, locking the door behind him. Gabe breathed out audibly. He was sure Mr. Bussleman suspected something. Acting like he had caught him but couldn't say anything. Or maybe that was his imagination, he couldn't be sure. He looked over at the wide view to see the college girls leaving, arms entwined and giggling in each others ear. A moment later, Mrs. Bussleman appeared, handed the slip on the hanger to Bernice before finishing another animated conversation with her. She was again dressed impeccably in her expensive clothes and looked cool as a cucumber, thought Gabe. But once or twice, he thought he saw her glance at a camera. Just for a moment and then she was gone. He sat back, contemplating the area over which he kept watch. He didn't remember to turn off the ground camera for another half an hour. Just after he quietly wondered how many times this vision would play in front of him again. Changing Rooms I know that as a bloke, I'm not supposed to like going round the shops with my other half but to be honest, how else is she going to know what I like her to wear? Admittedly, there does come a point after you've looked at the same outfit for the eleventh time and confirmed that "Yes, you look great in it and so much better than in the other fifteen you've tried on today," that it can lose some of its novelty value so this story is about how to keep the interest levels going You've just picked up a handful of clothes and you're heading for the changing room. You call over your shoulder for me to follow you and as I know what's good for me, I do. The assistant has the required bored expression and pushes the curtain back on a small cubicle for you to step inside. There's a battered armchair near the entrance to the changing rooms and no-one else is using it, so I slump into it to wait for the next catwalk show. My eyes roam around the store and I make a note of a couple of tops that I think would suit you and tell myself to mention them to you when you come out. As I turn my attention back to the changing room entrance, I catch sight of you through the gap in the curtain. You have your back to me and your top is off. And so is your bra! I don't remember that from earlier and continue to look at you without trying to stare. You pull a top over your head and straighten it around your hips. You look at yourself in the mirror facing you and as you turn I can see your reflection also. Not wearing a bra for that top was definitely a good idea as it clings to like a second skin without creasing and bunching up. You're obviously pleased with it as well as you keep smoothing the material over your chest and stomach. You're apparently VERY pleased, or else getting changed has left you a little chilly as your nipples have stiffened and become very obvious. I realise that my pleasure may becoming obvious also and so adjust my position to conceal the stiffness in my trousers. You unfasten your trousers and bend to push them to the floor and I marvel at your fantastic backside within a brief pair of panties that expose plenty of bum cheeks without being a thong. It's just as well I had the rearrange as the sight of those cheeks parting as you bend and reveal your silk clad sweet spot, has me tenting like Billy Smarts Big Top!! Stepping out of your trousers you pick the skirt you have selected and hold it against you and look in the mirror, allowing me more time to gaze at our semi-naked rear. Satisfied that it matches the top, you step into it and fasten the zip. Again, smoothing the material over your thighs and bum. You twist from side to side to get a good look at yourself. Then pull the curtain to one side, "What do you think? Do these go together?" And you step towards me. I become a little flushed, feeling I have been caught doing something I shouldn't and try to ensure that you can't see the discomfort in my trousers. "Yeah." I stammer, "you looked fantastic. Really great." I remain seated and hope you don't ask me to stand. "What do you mean LOOKED fantastic? Don't you like these on me? Did you prefer one the other outfits?" But then you look along my line of vision into the changing area and stop the interrogation as you consider what I may have seen. "You liked, I mean like what you see then? Let me try on a couple more, then you can tell me what you liked best." And with that, you turn and go back into the cubicle. You catch a sly look in my direction as you pull the curtain across. I congratulate myself on my narrow escape and settle back in the chair, hoping that you've not done a very good job of closing the curtain. I needn't have worried. Unknown to me, you realised the view that I had and have decided to have a bit of fun. You have made sure that there is a gap in the curtain and that you stand where I can see you and the mirror. You pull the top off and hang it again. Then you stand at a slight diagonal so that I can see your right breast and your reflection. You put your hand to your face, as if you were trying to decide which top to try next and your hand on your hip. You pick up a variety of tops to hold against your naked torso and rub your breasts and stomach as though you were trying to see the shape they would form on you. But you seem to be more concerned with getting the shape right around your breast and nipple as you continue to smooth and rub yourself through a variety of fabrics. Eventually, you appear to settle on a short spaghetti strapped top, which stops just short of the trousers you're wearing to expose a tantalising strip of flesh below your belly button. As you struggle into it, you give the impression of not being able to get it over your shoulders but in truth you are trying to linger with your arms raised, shaking your breasts in the mirror as you glance in it to see if you have my attention. Once the top is in place, you look at yourself and rub your palms over your body, as if straightening the outfit but you seem to be lingering longer than necessary over your breasts and thighs. I don't realise this is deliberate and just enjoy the show. As there is no one around, I reach under my shirt to loosen my belt. Then under cover of one of our shopping bags, push my hand under the waistband of my trousers to rearrange things properly. Enjoying the touch of my hand against my stiffening shaft. You go back to giving your breast some attention and I watch your reflection as your nipples harden and press against the flimsy fabric. You pretend to look around and then run your right hand across the strip of exposed flesh around your midriff and under the top. Again, I can see in the reflection that now you're tugging at your nipples with your fingers. Your left hand skims the same flesh but heads south and under the skirt's waistband. I sit up and try not to stare but it's not easy. I can see the outline of your hand as it presses between your thighs and the look on your face. Your eyes appear closed but you're squinting into the mirror, which unbeknownst to me means that you can see what I'm doing in the mirror. You smile to yourself as you see the shape of my hand under my trousers. Then a really wicked thought lands and your right hand slides down your body and under the skirt, hooking your thumb in the waistband on the way as your left hand does the same. You push the skirt to the floor and step out of it. With your legs parted, you run your hands up the inside of your thighs and over your panties, pressing slightly against your mound. I try not to gasp out loud as I watch. My hand is still inside my boxers and I wrap it round my penis. I'm not sure what I can do in the middle of a shop but it feels good, so what the hell. Your palms run back and forth along your upper thighs as your thumbs press along your swelling lips. I can see them as they puff up and mould against your ever-dampening panties. You press your thumbs together, pushing your lips against your clitoris and stifle a moan. You quickly pull the top off and stand in front of the mirror, rubbing yourself and watching yours and my reflection. I watch your gorgeous bum as it wriggles against your hand and see your reflected ecstasy as you bring yourself closer to climax. You drive a finger deep against the sopping wet crotch of your panties and grip your breast roughly with your left hand and pull on the nipple. You bite your lip and close your eyes tight now. You know I'm watching but you're so carried away that you don't care who else is. As your knees start to buckle under the weight of your onslaught against your sex, your thumb presses against your clit and your eyes pop out of your head and you groan as quietly as you can. I still can't believe what happened next. Your eyes opened and you turned to face me. For the first time I realise that you knew I was watching. Then you slide two fingers inside your panties and into your dripping pussy. Next you take them out and put them in your mouth!! You look directly at me at suck your juices off of your fingers. Pretending each finger is a little cock, you lick and suck your cum off. Well, I nearly shot my load there and then. When you had finished sucking them, you pointed at me and beckoned me to join you. Without looking around, I stood straight up and walked in, pulling the curtain tightly shut behind me. My jacket and shirt are quickly heaped on the floor and you undo my belt and push my trousers down as you get on your knees in front of me. You pull my throbbing manhood from my boxers and repeat the same licking and sucking motion you performed on your fingers. I run my hands through your hair and wrap my fingers within it as I hold your head and pump gently back and forth into your mouth. I have been so excited by watching you and your mouth works so hard on me that in no time at all I can feel my own climax build. My legs feel weak and I lose focus on my surroundings. All I know is this wonderful woman who has just brought herself to orgasm and made sure I watched before sucking my cock like there's no tomorrow. As I start to feel myself lose it, I stop pumping and push your head away but your hands grasp my buttocks and pull me back. You increase the tempo, determined to bring me off as quick as you can. My balls boil and my cockhead swells as I spurt into your waiting mouth. You take the first stream and then pull away, directing my cock at your chest and pumping my cum over your naked breasts. Some still hits your face and dribbles off your chin. I lean against the wall of the cubicle, spent and watch you rub my semen into your body and lick it off your fingers. I sit on the stool in the corner, with my penis sagging between my legs. You move towards me and pull my boxers and trousers off before clamping your lips around my cock again. You massage my balls and suck hard on my penis to get it stiff. Running a hand between your own legs then mine to smear your juices between my legs and over my buttocks and balls. Satisfied that it is hard enough, you shove your panties down, turn and plant yourself in my lap. Impaling your gloriously wet pussy on my stiffening shaft. I bite your shoulder to keep from moaning too load as I feel you envelope me in pulsating, gripping muscle. I lean back against the wall as you stretch your legs and starting grinding up and down on me. I reach into your lap and stroke the flesh either side of your clitoris, rubbing my thumb against it but never directly touching it, driving you wild as you pump up and down on me. Feeling my penis touch you deep inside, rubbing against the walls of your cunt. Feeling every ripple of flesh as it pushes between your lips, every vein and pulse as it throbs and the foreskin slides back and forth, dragging your pussy lips with it. We're facing the mirror so I can see our reflection as my penis disappears in and out of glistening hole. I look at your face and your eyes are tightly closed and you're biting your bottom lip to keep from screaming. Sweat is beading on your forehead and between your breasts and you keep writhing up and down driving us both on to climax. Your hand moves between your legs to cup my balls and stroke them, one finger tracing their outline from back to front, teasing the edges of my asshole as your juices flow over my penis and between our legs. Although we have tried to keep the noises down, our moans have attracted the attention of the assistant and once she has peeked through the curtain, she steps inside and unbuttons her blouse, letting it fall to the floor as she unfastens her bra. Your eyes are still closed so you haven't seen her until she steps between our legs and holds your head to her breast. Too far gone now to ask questions, your hands snake round her back and pull her close as you nuzzle her nipple, taking it into your mouth and rubbing the tip with your tongue, while at the same time sucking it. She moans too and cradles your head in her arms as if you were a nursing babe. Your hands run down her back and unbutton her skirt, pulling the zip down. As it joins the other clothes on the floor, your hands run over her naked backside. Yes, she is wearing a thong and her ass cheeks are revealed to me in the mirror as your hands run over them, pulling them apart so that your fingers can press between them, searching for her most intimate places. As she presses tighter against you, my hands leave your pussy and roam around her backside. I pull her thong to one side and cheeks apart so that your probing fingers can find their goal and you press a finger against her moistening slit, testing how excited she is. Satisfied that she is wet enough, you press harder and slip one finger inside her to rub gently against her pussy walls. As she grinds against you, you slip another finger in and press your thumb between her ass cheeks, resting it against her asshole. You swap breasts and take the other nipple into your mouth and I watch the fantastic sight of you finger fucking and tit sucking a complete stranger as my cock fills your hot pussy. The sight, sounds and feelings are too much for me and I swell inside you and start to pump more seed. Our mystery companion guesses what is going on and drops to her knees, your fingers make a sucking squelching sound as they come out of her snatch. Kneeling between your legs she licks your pussy lips and my shaft as it pumps back and forth inside you. Neither of us have ever felt anything like this before and it sends you over the edge, you hold her head tight against you as your own orgasm hits and her mouth stays clamped over your sex as our juices mingle and flow out. You can feel her mouth, nose and tongue all over your highly sensitive places and it drives you wild. I finish cumming inside you and relax as you continue to thrash around on my lap, biting your lip and throwing your head from one side to the other. The view is truly remarkable and deeply erotic. If I hadn't just cum, the sight alone would have made me. As my penis softens you slide to the floor, keeping your new friends face buried in your groin. Now lying on your back, you pull her legs above your head and pull her thong off to reveal her (shaven) pussy, swollen and puffy and aching for your tongue to return the pleasure she is giving you. Needless to say, you dive straight in. The two of you sixty-nining, pulling each other's cheeks apart to get closer and deeper. You hadn't recovered yet from your last climax so this new attention pushes you quickly towards another. She must have got off on the previous action as well as she is starting to pant and gasp her excitement. This new display has my slightly tender cock desperate to become erect again and I start to stroke it to hardness. You look up to see what I am doing and your eyes smile at me as your hands pull your buddy's cheeks apart and your fingers press against her asshole. Then a finger beckons me and I stand to walk towards you. By this time, my cock is standing to full attention and wavering before me. I stand behind the assistant with my penis dangling above her ass. You finger still beckons as the others rub against her asshole. Pre cum or previous cum drips off my cock and onto her buttocks as I carry on stroking. She mumbles something into your pussy. I can't hear, so she moves her head away, "Stick it up my ass, pl-ease, quickly before I change my mind!" I rub some more of mine and her juices around her puckered hole and press the tip of my cock against it. She moans a little and presses back as far as she can without losing contact with your rampaging tongue and lips. I press a little harder and the tip slips though her ring. She bucks away from me and I follow. Now I let her move back over me at her own pace as she takes my length inside her until my balls rest above your mouth and you tongue them before going back inside her. I grip her hips and slowly move in and out. You can see my side view in the mirror as I fuck her ass and she eats your pussy. Having cum twice already so soon before, my next one doesn't take long and is almost dry but it matches yours and hers and you both thrash around under me as we climax together. Once again, I withdraw my deflated member and collapse on the stool. The assistant stands, picks up her clothes and puts them back on again before walking back out. We look at each other and laugh before getting dressed also and leaving. We laugh and stand intimately close to each other at the cash register, the assistant whose ass contains my seed is serving us. She wraps our purchases, tenders my charge card and passes the bags across the counter. "I think you two deserve the staff discount for having such excellent taste. So I took 20% off, the details are in the bag." We say our thank yous and carry on laughing and fondling each other as we walk to the car. As I pull out the parking lot, you look through your purchases. "Hey, look at this. There's a note on the back of the till slip." "Read it to me, I'm trying to drive here" "It reads, 'Hi, my name's Kelly and I can't believe what just happened. I've never done anything like that before but I want more of it. If you two want to do that or anything like that again. Either in the store or anywhere, give me a call.' And she left her cell phone number." "Well then hun, looks like we found ourselves a playmate!" "Yeah, I can't wait." Changing Rooms The changing rooms at the gym are a funny place, in that it's the only place you see other men naked, and it is all supposed to be innocent -- we're all men together and yes we have knobs and pubic hair and buttocks, but that's irrelevant. Personally I don't pay much attention. But one day there was a guy in there who I had seen doing some weights but not really noticed more than that. It wasn't until he came into the changing rooms afterwards and I saw him without his shirt that I became interested. In fact I realised I was staring. He was aged mid thirties, fairly fit and muscular but with a bit of a stomach, plus he was black and had some chest hair and a good crop growing out from the top of his shorts. I told myself to stop looking, but I glanced up at his face and he was looking at me too. That night I had a wank thinking about him. I felt I had to get him naked in private. So the next day I went to the gym at the same time, and sure enough he was there again. He didn't shower, just changed his shirt, so I thought maybe he lived close by. I quickly got dressed and followed him out of the building. He strode past the car park and out along the road. I managed to catch up with him and started making conversation about the gym and what we did there. After a couple of minutes he stopped outside a gate and said he lived there. Would I like to come in for a coffee? Very nice of you, I said, as calmly as I could. He lived in the bottom flat. He told me to sit down and went to make the drinks. I sat on the settee and when he came back in he sat next to me. He also had a bottle of whisky, and poured some into his coffee. 'Want some?' he asked, and I said yes. We talked some more and he topped the whisky up several times until I was feeling pretty relaxed. Then he looked at me and said 'What do you want?' 'I want to look at your penis,' I said, my heart racing. He stood up and said 'Come on, then,' and led the way into the bedroom. He closed the door behind us and took off his shirt. Again I enjoyed the look of his dark skin and black body hair. 'Help yourself,' he said, putting his arms apart as if he was being frisked at an airport. He had tracksuit bottoms on, so I just untied a lace and slid them down. To do that, of course, I had to kneel in front of him. My face was in front of his purple underpants. Pubic hair oozed from the top and sides of his pants. I nuzzled his bulge with my nose and smelled that combination of sweat, cock and urine that I love so much. I slid his pants down and his cock hung there, slowly rising. He sat on the bed and pulled the clothes over his feet and off. 'Are you going to show me your penis?' he asked. I undressed slowly, watching myself in a mirror. 'You smell good,' he said. 'Just had a shower?' 'Uh huh,' I replied. 'Come and sit on my face,' he said, so I knelt astride his head, facing the wall, holding onto the headboard, and lowered my arse to his nose. He put his tongue right into my crack and licked my arsehole. I thought my balls and the head of my cock were going to explode. 'Fuck me, that's nice,' I said. 'I intend to fuck you,' he said, 'but first things first,' and he licked me again. 'I want to do that to you,' I said eagerly, and climbed back down so I was lying alongside him. I played with his chest hair and followed the line of pubes with my finger from his navel to his bush. He was now fully erect and I wrapped my right hand around his shaft and did a little wanking motion, then moved it up to the head and ran my fingers around the contours, picking up a little of his waxy secretions on my fingertips. As I looked at the darkness of his cock skin and balls I thought about what it was about black men that turned me on so much. I didn't have any answers, just theories. Was it because darkness is associated with badness and when it comes to sex we all like to feel we're doing something bad? Was it something to do with slavery and my need to do sex things with a black body was some expression of remorse on behalf of the exploiters? I wanted to suck black cocks and lick black arses, but it wasn't any sort of self-abasement or submissiveness -- I just liked doing it. 'Kneel down with your arse in the air,' I told him. 'I want to lick your bottom.' He did as he was told and I got down behind him and licked his fabulous secret place. After the first tonguefuls of arse taste had slipped over my tongue and down my throat I began to feel and taste the raw meat that was the last edges of his rectum. He was writhing with pleasure. I licked him some more and then slid my thumb inside. 'Listen,' he said, 'I want to do that to you and then I'm going to come into your crack.' I obligingly got into position and he got behind me and licked me as I had done him. My head on one side, I was watching in the mirror. Then he kneeled up and began to wank with his cock against my crack. After just a few seconds he ejaculated, squirting his semen into my outer arse. I loved the feeling, the warmth and sliminess as it slid downwards. He rubbed some into my arse with his finger and then said 'Do that to me: come into my crack. We swapped positions and I masturbated, the head of my cock and my knuckles rubbing against him until I came and the whiteness of my spunk against the darkness of his skin was very exciting. He passed me a tissue and I wiped him while he wiped me, then we both lay there with one finger up each other's arse and dozed. Changing Rooms I was in my final year of High School, and I knew this would be my last ever chance to try on the clothes the bullies and hard lads wore. They were rough charvas, who wore Rockport boots with their school uniforms, silver chains, and Adidas and Nike jackets. Five or six of them were in my P.E. class, which was the last lesson on a Friday. I was hyped up and juiced all week until then, and when the lesson started I made like I needed to use the toilet, so that I had an excuse to go back into the changing rooms. The changing rooms were locked during the lesson, but on the pretext of needing the toilet I got the key off the teacher. My heart was hammering in my throat as I opened the door. I put the key back in the lock and went forwards. I tried to calm myself down, but I was too excited. There was a blue and black Tog-24 jacket that Neil wore. An Adidas Firebird track top Dan wore. A Burberry Harrington that Adam wore – all the girls fancied him, and I was jealous of how confident he was around them. But they were all average lads, not very hard or tough. The one jacket I wanted to wear was Kev's. He was hard, and a bit of a bully though he'd never picked on me. But he had a reputation. I only had time to try on one set of clothes. I quickly dropped my P.E. shorts and tee, took off my trainers. I pulled on his black school pants, his white shirt (which smelled of him), slid my feet into his tan Rockports. My cock stirred, and I gripped it through his trousers, wishing he'd left a pair of boxers. I put on the school tie in the charva way – really wide knot, and very short, the knot hanging down a few inches below the collar line. I picked up his jacket. It was a Kickers puffa jacket, quilted yellow; a kind of shiny material, dulled because it wasn't cleaned. Before I even slid my arm into it I could smell the smoke hanging on it. When I had it on and zipped up partway I felt mean and hard and tough. There was a small mirror above the sink in the toilet, and I walked over to it to look at myself. Fuck me, I actually looked hard as well! This was fucking amazing! I strutted around the changing room floor for a moment, pretending I was a tough kid, rubbing my cock inside his pants all the time. I decided I had probably been long enough, and went back to the toilet to look at myself in the mirror while I jacked off in the sink. I pulled my cock out of the fly in his trousers. I had worked myself up so much I was almost ready to come. I pulled back on my foreskin, ready to start a quick couple tugs— —when the changing room door opened. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I quickly tucked my cock back into my pants and zipped up the fly – hardly daring to breathe. I had closed the toilet door, so I couldn't see who had come into the changing room. I had left the class after fifteen or so minutes – I knew the lesson hadn't ended. Had the teacher come back, wondering why I was taking so long? There was no sound from the changing room at first. Then, just a couple of steps across the room. And then the toilet door was swung wide open – and Kev stood there, looking pissed and confused. 'What the fuck are you doing in my clothes?' he said, and hauled me out of the toilet. I was rigid with fear. He punched me, right on the cheek. I had never been in a fight before, and the force of his blow shocked me. I fell to the floor, and was too scared to get up. He spat on me – on his own jacket – and said, 'You like wearing other people's clothes, you fucking pervert?' 'Please don't hit me again,' I whimpered. 'Please don't hit me again,' he mimicked, and swung his foot for my belly. He caught me in the base of the ribs, a starburst of pain. I yelped, and then he was down yanking the Rockports off my feet, pulling the trousers off and dragging my boxers with them but he didn't care. Naked from the waist down, I told me to get up and take off his jacket and his shirt. I was mortified. I could feel my cheek and chest swelling and bruising already. My hands were trembling as I did what he asked. All the time he was snarling at me, swearing at me, calling me a fucking pervert and throwing punches toward me that he never intended to land. I flinched and cowered away from him, but finally had all of his clothes off. I stood there naked, in the changing rooms. 'Bit cold down here, innit,' he said, sniggering at my small cock – it was average size normally, but had shrunk out of fear and shock. I blushed and tried to cover myself up. 'Keep your hands off that cock, you fucking pervert,' he said. I watched him, scared of what he was going to do. He bent down and picked his jacket up off the floor, put it on over his white P.E. tee and said: 'Right. You and me are going upstairs now. See if you like playing dress-up after this. Fucking freak.' There was nothing upstairs except the P.E. teachers' office and the girl's changing rooms. The girls did P.E. at the same time as the boys, but with a different teacher. All their gear would be up in the locked changing room. I looked at Kev with panic in my eyes. He just grinned at me, and flashed the key he had taken from the changing room door lock. I didn't even swear at myself for not having checked that the door was locked before I started trying on his clothes; I was too preoccupied with what was going to happen upstairs. I'm sure I would have pissed myself I had had anything in my bladder. He marched me up the cold flight of stairs to the girls room, tried a couple of keys in the door – I hoped that none of them worked! – until he found the right one. He pushed me inside, locked the door behind us and started looking around. There were bras and blouses, skirts and stocking socks – he walked past loads, as if he was after something in particular. 'Oi pervert,' he called from the other side of the changing room. 'Come here, twat.' I went over to where he was, past all the aisle of girls school clothes. He was kneeling down, grinning, holding a pair of black boots in one hand. 'What do we want me to do with those?' I asked, voice quivering. He looked at them, and looked at my feet, then back up at me. 'These are Vikki's boots,' he said. He looked at me meaningfully. 'I've always wanted to fuck Vikki.' 'Oh please no,' I wailed. 'Please no, don't! I'll do anything, but not that please. Please.' He just grinned and tossed the boots over to me. 'But don't put them on yet,' he warned. 'We have to get you all dressed up first, don't we?' My legs started to shake as I contemplated was about to happen to me. Vikki was from a rough Council estate. She had a reputation for being hard though she was easier to get along with than most. She was constantly getting into trouble for her clothes at school – the knee-high boots were the latest part of her rebellion. Kev came back and tossed some clothes at me. 'Put them on, bitch,' he said, and then sat down on one of the benches, grinning. I was a bit calmer, but my hands still shook a little as I reached down for the clothes. 'Underwear first,' he said. There were some white panties, and a black lace bra. I struggled to put the bra on, but decided to clip it up first before pulling the straps over my shoulders. 'Like a natural,' he said, and spat on the floor. 'Here.' He chucked four pairs of socks over. 'I like them big.' I stuffed the socks into the bra cups; the bra was too small for them, and they were trapped, clasped tight against my body as I reached down for the blouse. He told me to button it only partway up, like the sluts in our year, he said. He wanted to see some 'cleavage' still. There was a tie in the pile too; the girls wore them the same way as the boys, hanging low, dangling around their breasts. As I adjusted the tie I remembered trying on Kev's clothes, and my cock did a little bob. He laughed at me. 'You getting turned on by this, eh pervert?' I didn't answer him, just tried to calm my cock down and bent to pick up the black school skirt. It was a tight fit but I got it on; even though it wasn't erect, my cock bulged through the material. I had to peer through two breast mounds to see it, and was surprised that the perspective turned me on a little. It tried not to let my cock stir, though. There were white knee high socks next, which he told me to pull just over the knee. And then the black boots – which fit perfectly, but then I had small feet. They came to just under the knee, and the heels were a good two or three inches. I wasn't used to the height, and I wobbled a bit as I stood there. He squinted at me. 'You'll fucking do,' he said. He sat looking at me for a moment longer. I didn't know what he was doing, until he reached for his crotch and started rubbing his dick through his shorts. 'Oi bitch,' he said. 'This is what you should be doing.' I swallowed hard. I had never touched another guy's cock before, and I was scared about what might happen. I walked over as well as I could, and sat beside him on the bench. He looked at me, then took his hand off his crotch and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. This was my opportunity to escape! I could hit him, and get out of these clothes, then go straight to the P.E. teacher and tell him everything! But I knew I couldn't, really. Kev was a bully; he would just find some other way to make me pay – and it would be worse because I would have gotten him into trouble. Tentatively, I reached out and put my hand on his crotch. 'Mmmm,' he purred. 'Rub it.' I started rubbing it, like it was my own cock. It was an odd feeling, doing the same things I would do to myself but seeing their effects on somebody else. His lips quivered and he went red in the cheeks. I was looking down at his crotch as I was working it. His cock felt a bit bigger than mine. It felt pretty good rubbing it back and forth under the nylon P.E. shorts. Suddenly he grabbed my neck with one hand and was pulling me towards him. I tried to resist as he puckered up and got ready to kiss me. 'Kev—!' I said. 'Shut the fuck up Vikki,' he told me. I swallowed. His eyes were still closed. His hand was still on the back of my neck. I relaxed and let him pull me forwards. His lips were warm and wet; he tasted of cigarettes. He slid his tongue abruptly into my mouth, making me start. I'd never kissed like this before. I was shocked enough to stop rubbing his cock. He broke off the kiss long enough to slap me. 'Wank me off, bitch! And use more tongue when I kiss you.' I tried not to think about what it was that I was doing, and made little jerks with my hand on his cock as he kissed me. I tried copying how he kissed, pushing my tongue into his mouth. It was pretty disgusting – but one part of me was turned on, because this hard lad, this rough Council lad, was getting off with me! I jerked his cock faster, thinking that it would all be over quicker if I made him come. I could feel his breathe becoming ragged as he continued kissing me. I wanked him faster and faster and could feel a wet patch of precum growing on the outside of his shorts. I nearly took my hand away in disgust, but hung on in there. He suddenly cupped a hand over one of my 'breasts' and slid his other hand over my arse, feeling it through the skirt. 'Vikki!' he said. And then he came. I felt his cock throb and pulse, kicking with each ejaculation. There were two before I could pull my hand away, and it continued to burst afterward. His face was red and his eyes were watery. 'That was fucking lush,' he said, breathing a little ragged. 'Can I go now?' I pleaded. He snorted. 'No fucking way. I said I wanted to fuck Vikki.' I hung my head. 'Have I fucked you yet, Vikki?' When I didn't answer he slapped me again. 'Have I fucked you, Vikki?' 'No, Kev,' I said. 'You haven't fucked me.' He smiled. 'Good girl.' There was an empty table in the changing room, and he walked me over to it. In the heels, I was a little taller than him. I wasn't used to being so high up, and he held me by the waist to steady me as we walked. 'Sit down on the table,' he told me. I sat down, pushing myself as far back as I could go, until the backs of my knees hit the table edge. He grinned predatorially at me. 'Not so far back.' He pulled me forward, until only my butt was on the tabletop. 'Now lean back.' I did what he said, leaning back on my elbows; my legs were dangling over the table. I knew what was coming. The tabletop was at crotch height. 'Be nice,' he warned. He lifted my legs up – I was a little stiff at first, but relaxed when he swore at me – and put my knees over his shoulders. I liked the look of the black leather boots on my thin legs; they looked good. As I looked at him past the fake breasts, pulling his shorts and boxers down so he could get his cock out, I felt another stirring in my groin, inside the girls' panties. He didn't notice. He looked at me; he looked mean. 'Don't you dare fucking scream or cry out,' he warned. 'Don't make any fucking sound at all.' I could feel him, pushing his fingers up against my asshole. They were wet and sticky. He'd spat on his hand and was using his saliva to loosen me up. I swallowed hard and started to hope everything would be all right. That something would happen before he raped me. 'Please—' I started. 'I said shut up, cunt.' He swung back a little, and I could see him getting himself ready – and then he plunged, hard and fast and deep, straight into me, driving himself all the way in. I gasped in shock, but I didn't cry out. He just grinned at me. He fucked me, at first rough and fast, but gradually slowing down into a more practised rhythm. 'Play with your clit,' he told me. I didn't know what he meant at first – and I was too concerned about the cock digging into my butt to think about anything else – until he reached forwards and slapped me in the face. 'Play with your clit,' he repeated. I reached under my skirt and into my panties. My cock was semi hard and very wet. A little moan escaped my lips as I started to rub it. Kev grinned at me, behind the mounds of my tits. He carried on fucking me – I was being fucked like a girl, by the hardest lad in the school – and started picking up his pace again. I felt his long cock sliding in and out of me. It didn't feel very wide, but it was long; I felt him touch sensitive places inside me I hadn't even known about. I started to enjoy being fucked by him. I looked up at him, into his eyes, as I stroked and teased my cock. He looked away, looked down, concentrating on my flat stomach, on the bits of the black lace bra he could see through the thin blouse; he rubbed the skin of the leather boots I was wearing. 'Oh Kev,' I moaned, quietly. I moved my free hand over one of my breasts and started caressing it. He blushed and started ramming his cock in and out like a piston, taking it almost all the way out before charging back in – and each thrust filled me with heat and pleasure. 'Fuck me, Kev,' I whispered breathily. 'Fuck me.' And then I came, a long orgasm of spurting cum that shot all over the panties and the skirt. 'Oh fuck,' he said – and I felt him empty himself inside me, hot and sticky cum shooting up me. He thrust a couple more times, before withdrawing. He stood there panting for a moment, looking at me, as I lay on my back not daring to smile at him, one hand still resting on my breast the other underneath my skirt. He took one of the school girls' blouses off its hook and wiped his wet cock with it, then turned about and left the changing room. I could hear him making his way down the stairs. I sat up. My arse was sore. The changing room clock showed twenty minutes had passed since I first asked for the keys to use the toilet. I started to take the clothes off, intending to put them back or just throw them somewhere in the room. I didn't know where they came from, exactly. And then I thought better of it. The leather boots felt tight on my calves; they fit really well. I liked looking down and seeing the mounds of breast; liked the tightness of the bra around my chest. As I passed a mirror in the changing room I caught sight of myself. My face was bruised already from where he'd hit me. If I squinted just right, I looked like a schoolgirl slut – a little bit like Vikki, when she used to try to get off with as many lads as she could. I decided I would hide the boots in the boys changing rooms. There was a loose tile in the ceiling and space above it where I could put stuff. I took off all the clothes and the boots, and wrapped them all together in the blouse as best I could, taking the lot down into the boys' changing rooms. Kev hadn't locked the door; he'd left the keys in the lock on the outside. I quickly hid the gear, replaced the tile, got back into my own clothes, and started a quick jog out to where the rest of the class was on the field. I didn't make eye contact with Kev. The teacher gave me an odd look, seeing my bruise. I ran off, down the other end of the pitch, and he seemed to decide not to pursue me. I didn't have anything to say to him, anyway. I had just been fucked, like a girl, by the hardest lad in the year. And I wanted more.