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Date: Wed, 4 Jul 2018 20:55:01 +0000 (UTC)
From: Hugh Banton <clover2209@yahoo.com>
Subject: Adventures in Mall Shopping

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This is a work of fiction. All persons are intended to be age 18 and above.

ADVENTURES IN MALL SHOPPING

By anonymous.a

When was the last time you visited a mall?

It's been years for me, which is ironic. When I was a kid, malls were a big
deal. You spent the day there. Your entertainment was provided by the video
arcade and movie theater. You were fed by the food court. You were watched
over by mall security � and every middle-aged lady who had kids of her
own and thought your parents were monsters for leaving you unsupervised at
the mall.

It was fun while it lasted. We cruised the mall in gangs, seeing and being
seen, listening to the pop music that was so trendy at the time but now
sounds impossibly dated, and basically enjoying our teenage years. In small
towns across America the kids hang out at fast food joints. In big cities
it's the clubs. For suburban America, at least in MY childhood, malls were
the place to be.

Not anymore.

I went to the local mall the other day. I had to. The battery in my watch
died and a jeweler there could replace it in a minute flat for only $15.

It was sad.

The mall was nearly deserted. The hallways were dark and eerily quiet. Many
of the stores had closed, and those that were open were not the kind of
stores you would have seen back in my day � overstocked shoes, As Seen
on TV, bargain outlets. It was depressing. The food court was mostly empty,
the theater closed, the bookstores gone, and a crappy arcade with air
hockey, old-fashioned pinball machines and one of those dancing games were
all that remained.

It was as if my childhood had died.

BUT ... before I left, things began looking up. Or standing up. Stiffening
up. However you want to put it, heh heh.

I wandered the mall, hoping against hope my jeweler was still in
business. When I reached the wing where his store had been located I found
that the concourse had been blocked off by one of those accordion
barricades. A sign announced the replacement of that part of the mall with
condos.

Condos?

Who would live in a condo that had once been a KB Toys or Sharper Image
store? Apparently a lot of people, especially if the price was right. The
cost of housing was out of sight, along with everything else. Malls were
becoming subdivisions, which reminded me of an old Rush song I heard on
Spotify the other day.

I peered through the metal slats in the barricade. The hallway was dark. I
could see the ghostly outline of storefronts that once held bright lights,
display windows with colorful merchandise, and throngs of customers. There,
on the right, was my jeweler. The store was black and empty.

Now what?

I turned and wandered aimlessly back up the concourse. I needed to find a
place that could install a new watch battery, and I also needed to find a
men's room, as that second cup of coffee I had drunk before leaving the
office was beginning to make its presence felt. I remembered another
jewelry store, one that had belonged to a chain, up the concourses and to
the left, so I decided to see if it was still open.

It wasn't, but another jeweler had taken its place. I stepped inside and
nobody was about. The lone salesman behind a glass display case looked up
hopefully. A customer? Was it possible? Like snow in July, or all your
lottery numbers falling into place. At least that's what his expression
seemed to convey.

He was a young man, in his mid-twenties I'd say, with a fair complexion and
thin, blonde hair. His face was angular, framed by high cheekbones, almost
lady-like eyelashes and a cute little button of a nose. But what
immediately impressed me were his fingers. They were very long and elegant,
the nails trimmed and buffed to perfect crescents at the tips. Fingers fit
for typing, or playing the piano.

Or gripping a cock.

He asked if he could help me and I thought I detected a note of desperate
gratitude in his voice. Was he really that starved for business? How
disappointed he would be when he found out I merely wanted a battery for my
watch.

Except he wasn't. He seemed more than eager, and brought me around to
another display case where the batteries were stored. I got a chance to
size up his body once he got from behind the counter, but I couldn't see
much. He was wearing a suit and that concealed all.

I gave him my watch and he expertly popped off the back and set about
removing the thin disk of a battery. I was embarrassed by how dirty the
watch was; when he took off the backing a piece of accumulated grime fell
off. But if he noticed he didn't say anything. He got the battery replaced
in no time and the watch reassembled and ready to be worn.

"We don't get many of these old Omegas in here," he said, turning the watch
over in his palm, his fingers waving like Harry Potter wands over the
face. "In fact, we don't get many wristwatches period. The young people
these days tend not to use them." His face curdled into a frown. "They
check the time on their cell phones."

I glanced at his wrist. "Where's your watch?" I asked.

He smiled sheepishly and blushed. "Uh, yeah, about that. ..." and we both
burst into laughter.

"I know, I'm one of those disgusting young people who doesn't wear a
watch. If it's any consolation, I learned how to tell time on an
old-fashioned clock, you know, the kind with minute and hour hands. So I
don't need a digital clock to tell me what time it is."

"Is that a problem with kids these days?"

"You don't know the half of it," he said, lowering his voice, as if I were
a trusted confidant. "They can't look at a clock and tell you the time,
just like they can't make change, balance a checkbook or subtract on a
piece of paper. Talk about crippled."

I nodded. Truth is, I too had forgotten how to subtract due to my using
calculators so often. I started forcing myself to add and subtract manually
so my brain would remember the process. Now I'm working on my
multiplication tables. Next it'll be multiplying and dividing fractions.
Technology is handy, but it's also a dangerous crutch that can rot your
brain.

"I don't suppose you could do one more thing for me?" I asked him. His
eyebrows arched hopefully. "I don't suppose you could tell me where the
nearest men's room is? I'm having a serious bladder attack."

"I'll do more than that," he said. "I'll show you, because I need to go
too."

He went into a back room for a moment, then returned. A middle-aged woman
emerged right behind him and said, "Don't be too long, please. I'm right in
the middle of a polishing job." She regarded me with a subtle look of
suspicion.

But the young man didn't notice and motioned for me to follow him. We
headed off down the hallway.

We chatted as we walked. He talked about the struggles faced by the jewelry
store, and how their latest survival scheme fitted around bejeweled cell
phone cases. Considering how often I dropped mine, that didn't sound like a
workable idea, but I didn't tell him that. I didn't want to diminish his
hope. Our conversation enlarged to include the mall. I told him my stories
about hanging out at the mall as a kid, and how wonderful it had been. I
wondered where young people hung out today.

"Snapchat," he said. "Instagram."

"That's it?" I asked. "Sounds kind of lonely to me. Don't people your age
get together in person anymore?"

He snorted. "Only after they've been vetted through an app."

Ugh. That didn't sound like fun.

We reached a discreet hallway about midway down the concourse. It was
brightly lit with fluorescent lights that were much brighter than those
that illuminated the concourse. The men's room door was on the right at the
end of the hallway. We walked there, our footsteps and voices echoing in
the hallway. He pushed the door open and held it for me.

The bathroom was surprisingly clean and roomy. The ceiling was lower, which
made it feel a little more cozy. Clearly it was not used often, which made
me wonder if it had even been here back in my day. Directly in front of the
entrance was a vanity with a pair of sinks and a large, sparkling mirror.
To the left were two urinals, one high, one low, and to the left of that
was a single stall, which was very large. One of those baby changing tables
was mounted on the wall.

I headed immediately for the high urinal and unzipped. I really needed to
pee, and the pressure in my bladder seemed to double just from me thinking
about the moment I could unleash a torrent into the ceramic bowl.

I let it flow, and oh God, the sensation was heavenly. I had not realized
just how badly I needed to pee, but now that I was getting relief, I felt a
warm sense of relaxation seep into my muscles and spread across my body. I
should have taken a whiz before I left the office. I mentally made a note
of that � next time, be sure to hit the men's room before heading out to
run errands.

As I peed, I finally noticed the salesman wasn't standing at the urinal
beside me. Nor was he in the stall. I cranked my head around and glanced
over my shoulder, and what I saw caused me to catch my breath.

He was leaning against the wall behind me. He had his pants unzipped. He
was stroking an unbelievably long, impossibly thin dick. The thing had to
be 8 inches if it were an inch, but it probably wasn't 2 inches in
circumference. In fact, the width didn't seem to change from stem to stern,
giving it the appearance of a tree branch that might break if you pulled on
it too hard. But it was bone rigid, standing straight out of his crotch.
His hand was slowly sliding up and down its dizzying length.

His eyes were on me.

I forced out the remainder of my piss and shook my dick � quickly �
then turned around without zipping up. I guess the look on my face must
have communicated my interest, because he smiled and gestured for me to
approach him. I did and immediately sank to my knees.

I placed my hands on his thighs and studied that quivering magic wand
before me. It was every bit as elegant as his fingers, though much longer,
of course. A subtle tracery of blood vessels was visible just below the
pink skin, and as I watched, a drop of clear liquid gathered at the tip.

I looked up at him, as if seeking his permission to proceed, and he
smiled. I leaned in, my tongue protruding, and delicately lapped at the
tiny hole at the end of his cock. The fluid landed on my tongue and I ran
it around my mouth before swallowing. I could taste almonds, and salt, and
almost a distant, fishy flavor. None of those sounds especially stimulating
but taken together, the mixture and the circumstances were highly erotic. I
felt my cock hardening, as if quick-drying cement had been injected into
the staff, and I wanted nothing more than to devour the bone in its
mouth-watering entirety.

Which I did.

I didn't bother with any of the usual preambles. I swallowed that fun
stick, swallowed it all the way down my throat, sliding past my uvula and
into my gullet until my nose was buried in the whispery fabric of his suit
pants. I slid my hands up his thighs and around, grasping his butt cheeks
and pulling him in so that I got every blessed inch of that skinny pole
inside me. I heard him gasp and I would have smiled if my mouth had not
been otherwise occupied. The heat in his crotch seemed to burn my face,
especially when his hands found the back of my head and pushed me forward
as I pulled him into me.

The thought of being joined to this young man, his passion pole buried
inside and me, nursing on it, using my tongue and my suction to tease the
fluid from his balls, was so stimulating I thought I might climax without
touching my own bone hard cock. It was such a turn-on knowing that he was
using my face and my throat as his personal pleasure dump, and soon I would
be feeding on his nectar, my body absorbing his DNA and using to add to my
flesh, muscle and hair. He would become a physical part of me.

He pulled out of my mouth abruptly and whispered, "C'mon," and opened the
door to the stall. I got up and followed him.

Once inside, and with the door safely latched, he reached down and
unbuttoned my pants, then unzipped me. He started trying to coax them below
my hips but they were tight and difficult to get down, so I helped him.
Then he yanked down my underwear. My cock, which was still standing up and
throbbing with tension, got tangled in the piss flap and I had to extricate
it, which I did. I thought he might sink to his knees and take it into his
mouth � it sure could have used the relief � but instead he grabbed
me by the shoulders and turned me around, facing the wall. He moved behind
me and moments later, I heard what sounded like a plastic bottle being
uncapped, followed by a sputtering of fluid being squeezed out. Then the
cap snapped shut and a second or two later, he grabbed a wad of toilet
paper from the dispenser to my right, using it to wipe his hands.

I felt the head of his cock, now slick with lube, probe my ass crack.

"I need to do this," he whispered in my ear. "I need to fuck you right now,
in this public bathroom, on my fucking 15-minute coffee break."

My brain formed a mental picture of that long, slender pink snake burrowing
into my anal canal, and that skinny blonde young man pressing his groin
urgently against my exposed ass, and it was so deliciously dirty that all I
could say was, "Fuck me."

I felt his cock probe the entrance to my hole. I rubbed my rectum against
the intruding dickhead and pushed, letting him know he was on target. He
eased it inside and slowly pushed. It slid in without any significant
resistance, and I felt its presence pushing deeper, then deeper, seemingly
way past the point any cock had explored before, until there was nothing
else to push in. He was pressed against me and I felt him mold his body
around mine as his crotch started pistoning. He kissed my cheek and stuck
his tongue in my ear while his hands roamed my chest and slowly worked
their way southward until they settled in my crotch. He felt my raging
hard-on and gripped my dick, then started jacking it. His other hand
fondled my sticky ball sack, gently caressing the precious jewels within.

His cock going in and out of my hole felt amazing. It was so narrow that my
hole didn't burn from being stretched wide by an invading gorilla boner.
Rather, it was a smooth sensation of filling and emptying, and the friction
of it rubbing against my anal muscles sent waves of pleasure crashing along
my nerve endings.

He fucked me like that for several minutes. The room began to warm up and
there was a new odor, a blend of ass and male sex glands on overdrive. His
breath against my neck was hot and smelled distantly of some kind of
fruit. The pressure of his body pressing against mine was maddening. I
wanted every square inch of that slender frame wrapped around me and up
inside me, and I wanted to be inside it and envelope and swallow it. Our
union became more than mere sex at that point. It was as if we had melted
into a single, passionate organism and would exchange fluids as easily as
we breathed.

I did not notice the rapid intake of breath or the sudden urgency of his
spearings as I was lost to my sexual reverie, but I did notice when he
pushed hard and his sperm erupted in several savage pulses and flooded my
anal cavity. He held me so tightly it seemed our bodies would have no
choice but to merge. His hand grew fierce on my cock as he jerked and the
sensation of his love flowing into me was more than I could bear. A
gigantic, orgasmic spasm shook me from my little toe to the tallest hair
standing on end, electrified and rigid, at the top of my head, and I
blasted my own jism against the bathroom wall. It was a superheated
outpouring of unadulterated lust that could not be denied, and as I ground
against his rigid wand jutting into my asshole, I sprayed the wall, again
and again, with a seemingly impossible volume of male love serum.

We remained in that position for a minute or so, and then he managed to
catch his breath and began easing his fuck stick out of my grasping
hole. When it came out I felt a sudden, lonely emptiness inside me and
longed that he would put it back in. But he didn't. Instead, he grabbed
another wad of toilet paper and cleaned off his dick. I did the same, as I
could feel his fluid running out of my butthole and down my perineum,
headed for my leg. Then I wiped my ass when it seemed everything that was
going to leak out had done so.

We got ourselves put back together. He washed his hands at the sink and
combed his hair. I washed my hands too.

Outside, the air was about a thousand degrees cooler. Anybody going into
that men's room now would know in a heartbeat what had been going on. They
would feel it, and smell it, and if they looked closely enough, see it
oozing down the wall.

We parted company, but not before I got his business card.

I have a feeling my watch will need lots of attention from now on.



---



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