It's NOT Just Me.

The scene, a certain sex store on the high street with the initials AS. Me, just wandering, looking at the lingerie, and passing through the skimpy nightwear into the back of the ground floor where they keep the more….er…extreme clothing. Slightly raised above me is a mezzanine level where they keep the books and videos. 

I see a girl about my age. She is shamelessly carrying a set of anal beads still in their box, and is casually browsing the reading material. In the same aisle as her stands a man in his 50s. He too has a book in his hand although I notice he isn’t turning any pages. He is also checking her out…very surreptitiously, but also definitely. 

My attention flicks to her. She isn’t turning pages either. She has also moved closer to him. And he to her. I cast a glance over my shoulder to the cash register. Two bored assistants are standing there chatting. As a business owner I briefly consider how this place is a shoplifter's paradise. You could walk out with loads of stuff and the two bimbos on the till would never notice. 

When my attention returns to the man and woman, I find they are standing close to each other, but 90 degrees rotated. I also notice his left hand is up her skirt and she is bright red in the face. Her eyes find mine and we lock together. I’ve noticed this before in various situations. When a girl is having sex and another girl is in the room, we tend to make eye contact with one another. Perhaps this is the so-called ‘sisterhood’ in action? Who knows? They are being very careful not to draw attention to themselves. 

I move closer. I can see a fair way up her skirt now. Although I have no direct line of sight, there’s no doubt to me that she isn’t wearing panties. I can also smell her sex. She is very wet. Her left hand touches the man’s right shoulder and I see her knuckles begin to whiten. She grips firmly until her body starts to twitch. She is orgasming on his fingers. My own sex rejoices in her climax and begins to bedew my panties with her own wetness.

He turns his back and she is obscured from sight. But then I see a flick of blonde hair at waist height. She is going to suck him off! Here! Almost in plain sight. Again I glance back at the tills. No…they couldn’t be less interested. Perhaps this sort of thing is a daily occurrence here? She doesn’t take long….or rather, he doesn’t. She stands, smiles at him, then me, and turns her back. I hear her pay for her anal beads and wonder, was this pre-arranged? Some girls (me for one) have a fascination for older men. Maybe he’s her boyfriend? I noticed she was wearing a wedding ring, but why should that be a problem? It isn’t for me…or my wife. Somehow, I get the distinct impression that no…this was just a chance encounter. A fortuitous coming together. 

Going into any kind of sex shop always arouses me, even a soft-core one like AS. Still….I am wet, and my clit is throbbing. He has left the store now too, so I wander upstairs and stand where they were and let my nose do it’s ‘Hannibal Lecter’ routine. I smell the sharp tang of semen, but far stronger, to me at least, is the soft, sweet fragrant musk of her vagina. The carpet looks a little wet too. Maybe some drips as she came? Certainly not a full-on squirt that I am capable of, but still, not all girls do that. I am certain she swallowed him, but I also know that as he came in her mouth, she would have breathed his scent out through her nose. 

Miss Brain wakes up and wonders if she could wait to get home to try those anal beads? Maybe she is parked up somewhere right now, easing that chain of beads up her tight bum. I don’t have anal beads, yet I love anal stimulation. Another welt of wetness flows into my undies. Time to go. 

Back in my car, I pop my new purchase on the passenger seat a set of graduated anal beads. Small at first, but getting larger bead by bead. 

By the time I reach home, I’m soaked through and I am really ready for what is to come.