Teasing My Girlfriend Until I'm Naked in Her Store

The boutique was almost too quiet when I pushed through the glass door at ten-thirty, the little brass bell giving me away before my sandals did. Mid-morning light poured through the tall front windows and turned the pale floor the color of warm cream. Miriam stood behind the counter in her black pencil skirt and silk blouse, twenty-six and trying very hard to look professional, while I, twenty-four and already smiling, came straight for her with nothing under my short sundress but bare skin and a plan.

“Rosa,” she said, and the way my name left her mouth told me she already knew. “We’re open.”

“I know.” I leaned on the counter so the hem climbed higher on my thighs. Cool air kissed the place between my legs. “I need to try things on. Lots of things. You don’t mind, do you?”

Her eyes flicked down, then up, and the flush started at her throat. A woman browsing scarves near the front glanced over and then politely away. I straightened, took a pale lace set from the rack Miriam had styled that morning, and walked toward the changing rooms as if I had all the time in the world.

The first time I stepped out I still had the sundress in one hand and the lace bra and matching panties on. The cups were thin enough that the dark of my nipples showed through. I wandered the center aisle slowly, trailing my fingers over silk blouses, letting Miriam watch the way the panties sat low on my hips. A man in a gray suit came in for a gift card, paid, and left without looking twice. I smiled at her over a rack of dresses and went back in, already peeling the bra off before the curtain settled.

When I came out again I had pulled on a slip of a dress that was really just a suggestion, open down the back, hanging off one shoulder. My breasts moved with each unhurried step toward the shoe wall. Miriam’s pen stopped on the receipt she was pretending to write. I turned so she could see the side of me, the curve of my waist, the place where lace met skin, then let the dress slide off my shoulder entirely and walked it back to the rack like I was only being helpful. For a long second I stood there in nothing but the panties, bright lights warm on my shoulders and stomach, before I ducked into the changing room with my pulse loud in my ears.

I stayed longer the next time. Sheer black bra, matching thong, both of them more suggestion than coverage. I didn’t hurry back. I drifted between the dress racks, lifting a hanger as if I were deciding, bending at the waist so the thong disappeared between my cheeks and the cool air found me. My nipples had gone tight under the gauze. I could feel how wet I already was, a slick heat gathering against the thin strip of fabric. Miriam came around the counter with a stack of tissue paper she didn’t need and stopped three feet away, close enough that I smelled her perfume.

“Rosa,” she said again, quieter. “There are people.”

“Then look busy.” I reached past her for a belt, letting my breast brush her arm through the sheer cup. “Or look at me. I came here for you.”

A pair of customers drifted toward the front window. Miriam’s cheeks were pink all the way to her ears. She bit her lip and glanced at the door, then back at the dark points of my nipples, and I watched her breathing change.

I went in, took the bra off, and came out topless in only the thong. The store had gone softer, quieter, the music low under the hush of fabric. I stretched up to a high shelf for a box I didn’t want, arms overhead, breasts lifting, and held the pose until I heard the small catch in her throat from across the room. When I bent over a low table of folded sweaters, I did it slowly, back arched, ass tipped toward the counter. The thong had ridden so far to one side that she had to be able to see the shine on me. I stayed there, rearranging sweaters I had no intention of buying, until my thighs trembled.

A woman left with a shopping bag. The bell chimed. Then the store was ours for a breath.

I slipped the thong down my legs in the aisle, stepped out of it, and set it neatly on a marble plinth beside a vase of white roses. Completely bottomless, I walked the length of the center runner under the bright spots, hips loose, the air shocking against my bare pussy. I was swollen, slick, aching. I paused at a mirror and met my own eyes, then found Miriam’s in the glass. She had both hands flat on the counter. Her chest rose and fell too fast. She looked at the front door, bit her lip hard enough to pale it, and looked back at me like she was already losing.

I turned, spread my stance a little, and let her see everything: the trim dark hair, the wet gleam, the way my nipples had drawn into tight peaks. “Your turn to come find me,” I said.

The bell didn’t ring. No one came in. Miriam’s resolve broke with a soft, helpless sound, and she came around the counter at last.

She found me standing naked in the center of the store, right under the brightest cluster of lights, arms loose at my sides, nothing left to take off. For one suspended second she just looked, flushed and starving, and then we crashed together. Her mouth hit mine hungry and open, tasting of the mint she kept behind the register and the little moan she couldn’t swallow. I grabbed her hips through the pencil skirt and pulled her in until her blouse crushed against my bare breasts. She kissed me like the door might open any moment and she had decided not to care.

“God, Rosa,” she breathed against my mouth. “You’re dripping. I could see it from the counter.”

“Then do something about it.”

She dropped to her knees on the pale floor without another word. Her hands slid up the backs of my thighs and spread them, and I planted my feet wider, standing over her in the middle of the aisle with the lights hot on my skin. The first stroke of her tongue was slow, flat, and filthy, from the soaked entrance of me all the way up to my clit. I gasped and grabbed the edge of a clothing rack to stay upright. She licked me again, greedier, mouth open, nose pressed into me, and the wet sound of it seemed huge in the quiet store.

“Miriam—yes—right there.”

She sealed her lips around my clit and sucked, two fingers sliding into me at the same time, curling, easy because I was so ready. My knees nearly buckled. I rocked against her face, not shy about it, watching the top of her dark head between my spread legs and the glass door beyond, empty sidewalk, bright day. Every pass of her tongue wound me tighter. She moaned into me like she was the one being eaten, and the vibration shot straight through my belly. I held her there with one hand in her hair and let her work, thighs shaking, the slick sounds obscene under the soft store music.

When I was close enough to see stars I pulled her up by the shoulders and kissed the taste of myself off her mouth. “Over the table,” I said, voice rough. “I want you bent over. I want you loud.”

She went. I spun her toward the low display table near the center—scarves, a few careful stacks of bracelets—and bent her over it with a hand between her shoulder blades. She caught the far edge and pushed her ass back at me, already panting. I yanked her skirt up over her hips. Practical black panties, damp at the crotch. I dragged them down to her knees and left them there.

“Tell me you want it,” I said, palming the curve of her ass, spreading her so I could see how wet she was.

“I want it. Fuck me. Please, Rosa, nobody’s here—just do it.”

I pushed two fingers into her from behind, deep, and she cried out, the sound bouncing off the high ceiling. She was hot and tight and soaking, clenching around me on the first stroke. I fucked her hard, the way she’d been asking for with every bitten lip since I walked in, wrist snapping, thumb grinding her clit every time I bottomed out. The table creaked. A bracelet rolled and hit the floor. Miriam moaned without trying to quiet herself, forehead dropped to her folded arms, ass pushing back to meet every thrust.

“Louder,” I told her, adding a third finger, stretching her, feeling her flutter. “Let the street hear you if they want. You’re mine right now.”

“Yours—oh God—harder—”

I gave it to her, fingers driving in, the wet slap of my hand against her filling the boutique. Her skirt was bunched at her waist, blouse half untucked, one heel slipped off. I leaned over her back and bit the side of her neck, not enough to mark where a customer would see, just enough to make her jolt and sob my name. She was close. I could feel it in the way she gripped me, in the shake of her thighs.

I pulled out before she tipped over. She made a wrecked little sound of protest. “On the floor,” I said. “I want your cunt on my mouth when you come.”

She turned, wild-eyed and flushed, and we went down together between the racks. I lay back on the cool floor, the lights glaring above me, and she swung a leg over my face without hesitation, skirt still rucked up, panties trapped at one ankle. She straddled me and sank down, and I opened my mouth for her. The first grind of her clit against my tongue made us both groan. She tasted sharp and sweet and desperate. I held her hips and licked her open, letting her set the pace, letting her use my face.

Miriam rode me like she had forgotten the door existed. She braced a hand on a rack above us and rolled her hips, smearing herself over my tongue, chasing it. I sucked her clit and flicked it, then flattened my tongue so she could grind exactly where she needed. My own pussy throbbed, empty and aching, slick running down toward the floor. I slid a hand between my legs and rubbed myself in rough circles while she fucked my mouth, and the double sensation nearly undid me.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped. “Rosa—I’m—right there—”

I didn’t stop. I sealed my mouth over her and sucked, tongue working, and she broke with a loud, shaking cry that filled the store. She ground down hard, pulsing against my tongue, thighs clamped around my head, coming in long wrenching waves while I licked her through every one of them. The sight and taste and sound of her tipped me over a second later. I came with my fingers buried in myself and her still shuddering on my mouth, hips jerking, a raw moan muffled against her. We stayed like that until the aftershocks eased, both of us panting in the bright middle of the aisle, her wetness on my chin, my hand shining.

She climbed off on unsteady legs and I sat up, naked and glistening with sweat, the floor cool under me and the lights too honest. I stood, pulled her in, and kissed her deep and slow, letting her taste herself, letting the kiss say what the empty store already knew. Her hands slid over my bare back like she wasn’t ready to let go.

“Get dressed before someone actually walks in,” she whispered, smiling against my mouth, flushed all the way down her chest.

“In a minute.” I kissed her once more, then picked up the thong from the plinth and walked, still naked, back toward the changing room, unhurried, feeling her eyes on my ass the whole way. Behind me she straightened her skirt, found her heel, and smoothed her blouse with shaking hands before she returned to the counter, cheeks pink, mouth swollen, wearing the satisfied look of a woman who had just been thoroughly fucked on her own sales floor.

I pulled the sundress back on over bare skin and caught my reflection, already scheming. Next Tuesday, same quiet shift. I’d come in a coat and nothing else, lock us in the stockroom for the first round, then make her watch me stroll the aisles naked again until she couldn’t stand it. The bell would ring. She’d look up. And we’d start all over.