Mad for Plaid
Just picking some things up at the store for a good time…
Word Count: 2039
Warnings: NSFW, language, PLAID, Sex in a Public Place, oral sex, groping, self-stimulation
Pushing the cart loaded with Halloween goodies from the store entrance, I round my favorite corner, just past the row of fashionable boots for winter and fall. The men’s department. Fall. Warm colors. Sweaters. Plaid… Yummy.
I’m lost in my thoughts and my eyes focus on a color palette that I can only refer to as “Fuck Me Plaid” as I finger the soft fibers.
His hands come around me tossing a few Henleys into the basket before grasping the red cart handles and bumping his strong thighs against my ass.
“Hey beautiful,” he whispers against my hair, his voice instantly causing a warm flood to my inner core. “Which ones do you like? I can try a few on, just for fun.”
“You’ll be my life-size Ken doll? I can dress you up just how I want?”
“I prefer that you undress me,” he growls pushing against me again this time his cock hard, as an invitation.
I chuckle. “Down, boy.” Reaching to throw two shirts in the cart I push him away smiling at his forward behavior. “Save that thought for home.”
Looking around, this end of the store seems desolate, giving him freedom to do what he wants. “Now,” he says, more gruffly. Rough fingers dance down the side of my neck, sliding across my shoulder, pulling the collar of my t-shirt open wider. His soft lips press a wet, open mouthed kiss against the newly exposed skin and I shiver involuntarily pressing back against him.
“In the fitting room?” I retort quietly with shock, not wanting my voice to echo in the store. I turn to face him. “You can’t be serious?”
His smile is wicked and the gleam in his eye is purely sinful. “Deadly.”
His voice rumbles through me as nervous butterflies float through my system.
This man. This fucking man. Always pushing my buttons, testing my limits and reaching beyond, each time encountering a high greater than the one before.
“It’s on the list,” he reminds me, taking my hand and pulling two more shirts off the shelf and handing them to me.
“It’s on the list.” I state, resigning myself to the inevitable, dropping the Henleys on top of the snacks and holiday gear. He maneuvers me towards the fitting rooms and places the cart along the wall.
Walking behind me, he places his hand on my shoulder, advancing me down the short hallway to the open door at the end. Looking back behind us, I see no one is around, although I am sure we are on store cameras somewhere. His cap is pulled low and no one can see his identifiable blue eyes and cut jawline, covered by dark scruff, perfectly trimmed and fashionable.
Entering the room first, I see us in the mirror. His smile is purely predatory and his eyes grow dark with lust. Closing the door behind him he motions me to sit, handing me the other shirts before placing his ball cap and phone on the ledge. He runs his fingers through his shorter hair before crossing his arms at his waist to pull off his gray washed out Henley. As he stretches back, the finely toned muscles ripple under his radiant skin. I can feel myself beginning to ache with need for him as he creates a desire in me to break out of my comfort zone. To ease my discomfort I cross my feet at my ankles and wiggle my legs back and forth effectively rolling my thighs together in a self-stimulating manner.
I open my mouth to question him but he places a lightly calloused finger across my lips, shaking his head ‘no’ indicating for me to be quiet. He leans to me placing his hand against my neck, his fingertips teasing along the collar of my v-neck t-shirt again and whispers in my ear, “Shhh… We don’t want anyone to hear us.”
Inhaling his scent I bite my lip, nodding my understanding. With him close I reach and tug on the drawstring of his track pants, grazing my hand along his sweet Adonis. Keeping my tone low, I voice my complaint. “I thought you wanted me to undress you?”
He chuckles, nibbling on my ear, replying, “You will, dear, soon enough.” Pressing his hand over mine, I feel his heat, his blood rushing through the raised vein on his hip. He grasps my hands and places them in my lap. “No touching,” he quietly growls as he steps back. Placing his firm hands on my thighs, he also silently signals me to stop moving. Damn him.
He takes my favorite plaid from me. I lean back against the mirror just to watch as he teases me. The grin on my face is infectious and he can’t seem to keep a straight face either as he unbuttons the shirt. I watch as the muscles in his arms roll over one another and I can’t suppress a small giggle. He scowls at me, holding back his own laughter. He turns away and my laughter inside bubbles as his cute ass wiggles when he bounces on the heels of his feet. He’s unable to keep still as he pulls his arms through the sleeves, the soft flannel covering his back.
As he begins to pull the fabric tight across his deltoids, connecting the row of buttons across his chest, his tight form takes shape under the clothing. The large expanse is covered with the ruggedly male design and hugs his waist. His shoulders raise as he pulls on the collar and he turns to me, admiring himself in the mirror, ignoring my presence. He runs his hands down his chest, tugging on the tail of the shirt and pulling it into place. For good measure he fluffs his hair. A small grin indicates he likes the feel of the shirt.
I’m a mess. He’s so fuckin’ beautiful. Suits. Workout clothes. T-shirts and jeans. Beautiful in all of them. But something about plaid… He can take me hard and fast right here and I don’t even care if anyone knows. And he knows it too…
The bastard decides to raise it up a notch. As he begins to unbutton the right sleeve, he makes eye contact with me and I’m helpless to stop the whimper that escapes me lips. ‘I hate you,’ I mouth the words, running my middle finger over my lips, licking them in the process.
“You’re too easy,” he laughs, the sound echoing in the small room, rolling up the second sleeve.
I sit forward on the round stool, dumping the other clothes to the floor and I slide forward on the seat just enough to open my legs wide drawing my hands over my thighs, tight in my yoga pants. I have a feeling we won’t make it to the gym after getting dog food. The heat of my covered pussy burns at my palm as I begin to rub myself over my clothing. My cunt tingles and swells at the possibility of our sex. I drop my head back, letting my hands roam. His breathing speeds up as my hands glide over my hard-earned abs, my shirt twisted around me, exposing my tummy. A flood of wet washes through my sweet space and I grow bold under his guidance. I tease along the colorful waistband of the pants, my breath steady as a calm surges over me. Slowly rolling my head up I lock eyes with his before plunging my hands down into my panties, beginning to finger myself with no remorse. The slick is welcoming and my walls so soft; I can feel the smirk on my face as I bite my lip, exciting myself as the realization hits me that once we start our play my body is all ready for him.
He steps to me and stops my hands. “As much as I’d like watching you get yourself off,” he stops as my scent fills the air between us, inhaling deeply. His wicked smile darkens his eyes as he brings my hand to his mouth, savoring the little tease as he caresses his tongue over my fingertip. “I said no.”
Even with his forceful grip on my wrist, I can still wiggle my fingers to stroke the delicate skin on his inner wrist, the spot he loves for me to bite and kiss and I feel goosebumps form on his skin at my touch. Challenging him, I look deep in his eyes, seeing my own reflection there, teasing, “Oh, not at all? I thought you meant I couldn’t touch you. Okay, so we are clear on that now. Good.”
Once again he fights the laughter I see on his face. “You are a pain in my ass, you know that don’t you?” he whispers.
I simply nod my head yes. For all his talk of being in control, he truly likes more to be playful and loving, and I like reminding him of that. Any chance I can get.
He drops my hands and quietly commands me to stand. In one quick swish, he pulls my shirt over my head, leaving me in a barely there sports bra and my nipples harden against the friction and the cold air in the store. “So pretty,” he whispers as he runs his fingertip down my exposed sternum, caressing down to my sensitive belly button. I inhale quickly and lean to his touch as he runs his hands around the waist of my fitted pants pulling me close to him, crushing my tits across the cozy material and his hard body. He raises my arms and places them over his shoulders, swaying us in time to the music on the store radio. He looks down between us, my boobs pushed up against him. “Maybe these should be free?” With the flick of his finger, the bra falls loose and he pulls it free, the heavenly fabric of his shirt against my skin.
“I think we kinda have to buy this one now,” I giggle.
“I plan to buy them all,” he whispers. “It’s funny you find them so sexy.”
“I do; just something about you in plaid makes me weak in the knees.”
“Really? Weak you say?” he places his hands atop my shoulders and pushes me down, and before my knees buckle I realize what he wants from me and I drop to my knees in front of him, resting on the pile of other clothes to buy. I balance myself momentarily with my hands on his hips, brushing the fabric against him before dropping my hands, following the no touching guide. I wrap my arms behind myself and tug on the braid I can feel hanging down my back. As that action tilts my head back for him, he smiles down on me as he frees his stiff cock from his pants.
On my knees I suck him into my mouth, swallowing as much of him as I can into my warmth, allowing him to fill the empty space. Playing my tongue against the vein on the underside of his beautiful rod, he moans and rocks into me reaching out with one hand to support himself against the full length mirror. Bobbing my head I wash over his length, loving every inch. My cheeks hollow as I prepare to take more and he twists the tail of my braid like a rein around his hand, pulling me on and off his cock. He breathes in sharply, making me moan around him, gaining confidence and speed as he releases a slow, shaky breath. “Keep that up and you’re gonna make me come,” he grunts quietly continuing to face fu-
“MOM! Earth to mother? What are you doing just standing here looking at plaid shirts? Come on, we’re gonna be late to soccer practice,” my annoyed teenage daughter tugs on my arm, breaking my deliciously sinful daydreams.
I smile, shifting my legs together at my own wicked thoughts. “Yes, babe. Let’s go,” I comment tossing the shirt in the cart.
“Does Dad really need another plaid shirt?” she complains, rolling her eyes.
Turning the cart around to head to the check out, I simply laugh, “Yes, honey, yes he does.”
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