The Undressing Room

When the Unthinkable Happens

The Undressing Room

by

Miriam F. Martin

WhenTheUnthinkableHappens_v1I take GamerGirl out clothes shopping every so often. Not real sure why I do so. Ever notice the chair outside the ladies’ fitting rooms? That’s where I sleep.

When I’m not sleeping, I’m fantasizing. One of my biggest fantasies is to have wild, raunchy sex in the fitting room.

Surprisingly (or not) this is one of GamerGirl’s fantasies too.

For both of us, it’s the thrill of getting caught by a fitting room attendant, or by another customer. Or maybe even by security.

Luckily, department stores have drastically cut back on their staffing, so getting caught by an attendant is unlikely. Also because of less staff, there’s fewer customers. And security at these stores tends to be one guy who sits at a desk and watches TV all day, so no worries there.

But none of that kills the illusion.

So we were in the fitting room at GamerGirl’s favorite department store. She had an arm full of Lolita style dresses to try on. I had a massive boner bulging in my pants. She looked at me, I looked at her.

Then I pushed her into the cubicle and we ripped each other’s clothes off.

I played with her pussy for a bit to make her wet. Then I slipped on a condom. (She has five kids. She doesn’t need one from me. And Hubby owns guns.)

I turned her around to face the mirror. GamerGirl braced herself with a hand on opposite walls. I was balls deep in her.

Pretty soon, we were both sweaty. Our hair was a mess. Her makeup was ruined. I made eye contact with her in the mirror. Watching her tits bounce and her eyes roll backwards, just made me even hotter.

Then, over the intercom: “Good afternoon customers. There’s a tornado watch in affect. Sorry for the inconvenience, but we ask that you follow all ten of our employees to the designated safety area. Thank you.”

The thrill of being caught intensified. Now it was the thrill of being in danger. What if the roof got torn off while we were fucking?

GamerGirl and I rattled the cubicles. A few of the bolts fell out and clinked on the floor. The mirror almost came off the wall. It hung sideways.

And then the unthinkable happened.

People came marching into the dressing room. Lots of people. Employees, customers, security guy. More than I thought were in the store. Their feet shuffled across the hardwood floor.

“Is this really the tornado drill area?” said one person.

“Yes, ma’am,” said another. “And this isn’t drill, ma’am.”

“Just doesn’t seem all that safe.”

“Mommy, she has four feet!” said yet another voice, one with a high shrill like nails on chalkboard.

My dick shriveled up. I didn’t have to pull out. It just kind of fell out and migrated up into my prostate. My condom fell off and dropped to the floor. I didn’t dare move to pick it up.

GamerGirl and I froze, like deer in the headlights. Or rabbits caught in the garden late at night. Or…

Well, fuck it. We got caught, and it was nothing like I imagined. All the hot sweat was now cold.

I signaled to GamerGirl in the mirror. After a few weird hand signs, we agreed to dress ourselves.

I moved slower than a sloth slowed down with more than enough booze to tranq a mammoth. One leg. One pant-leg. Then the other. Pull the jeans up very, very damned slowly. Neither of us made a sound.

Then, unthinkably, the unthinkable struck again.

I accidentally smashed my elbow into the cubicle wall. Thunk! I froze again. The wall didn’t stay so still. The mirror creaked, and then fell to the floor and smashed into a thousand gazillion pieces.

The dressing room got real quiet quick. Even the tornado seemed to quiet down.

“Mommy, what was mmph mmmph…”

GamerGirl and I pretended the people outside the cubicle didn’t exist, as best we could. In return, the ignored us best they could. It was like being at family dinner and the weird uncle farted loud enough to rattle the house.

Nobody said anything.

After what seemed like an endless eternity, the damn tornado ended. GamerGirl and I cut our feet on the glass shards.

Driving her to the emergency room was the single most painful experience ever, not counting anything Vampirella’s done to me.

Needless to say, we’re both banned from that department store.

***

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Author: David Anthony Brown

Indie writer and publisher. Among other jack-of-all-trade skills...

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