Chapter 9
SEXY SHOPLIFTER
"Poor baby Tricia...." Tony laughed aloud, repeating the Old Man's line to himself for what seemed the hundredth time. "Oh, that's rich," he wailed, pacing the length of his office. If the Old Man could only have seen his precious baby-Tricia with her legs thrust skyward, moaning and groaning to take all of his hot cock. Or what if the Old Man could have witnessed young Andy giving her a wild fucking with his slim-jim cock? And to round it out, The Old Man could really get the picture on Tricia's future if he could only have heard her utter: "No more fuckin' vaseline! I want it to hurt!"
Tony stopped short at the far wall, sliding a hidden panel, allowing him to view the action down on the main floor of the store. Gazing downward, he could watch his key security guard Charley Soma standing at a very tired attention near the cosmetic counter. Poor Charley ... Lisa Pilsner must have ruined him for quite some time.
"Hello there...." Tony wailed to himself, fixing his eyes on a mini-skirted blonde standing at the cosmetic counter, seemingly impatient to be waited on. Looking downward, Tony concentrated his gaze on her rear, imagining himself holding onto those fantastic buttocks while swinging into action.
"About twenty.... " he shrugged, guessing at her age. "Very nice, indeed," he sighed, saluting her with a hand on his crotch. He wondered why this beauty did not have an urge to do some shoplifting, conveniently get caught by Charley or Shirley, affording him an opportunity to play judge and jury. After all, the sexual sentences he handed out weren't always that rough.
Tony closed the hidden panel, realizing that he wouldn't always be as lucky as he had been with Lisa Pilsner. Before Lisa, it had actually been months, before he had sexually sentenced an attractive shoplifter who didn't want her husband to find out. Then, as with Lisa, Charley and Shirley were invited for seconds.
"Why?" Tony asked himself, moving back to his desk. Why are most female kleptomaniacs such homely, dreary people?" Tony smiled as he sunk back into his comfortable swivel chair. What the world needed, he decided, was more fantastically beautiful kleptomaniacs such as Lisa Pilsner.
"Who knows...." he shrugged, maybe there are plenty of them around, but he just wasn't lucky enough to have any of them attempt their shoplifting in the store he managed. Then, of course, he couldn't help but wonder if Charley and Shirley were really on the ball. After all, it wouldn't be right if any fantastically beautiful kleptomaniacs got away unpunished.
The security policy at all the Traymore stores had always been one of prevention, rather than detection. Unlike the more modern stores which employed plainclothes, undercover operatives, Traymore security relied solely on the sight of uniformed guards and large signs posted conspicuously warning that all shoplifters would be prosecuted to the limit of the law.
"Well, not all shoplifters-" Tony chuckled to himself, curious to know what the next female shoplifter might look like.
Tony leaned forward in his chair, staring blankly ahead of him, his mind churning on new prospects. If he could only find an excuse to have Charley and Shirley operate in plainclothes ... he was certain they would apprehend a much greater number of shoplifters. The rest would all be a matter of percentages. The more apprehensions-the greater the number of females. The greater the number of females-the greater the possibility of getting a few beauties willing to do most anything to not have their families find out.
He would have to give it some thought. But in the meantime he had a number of more pressing problems. First and foremost was what he had promised to do for Old Man Traymore. This wasn't exactly his line of work, but he would give it a try. Tony was beginning to have second thoughts, certain that it wasn't as simple as the Old Man thought it would be. It couldn't possibly be as simple as taking a potentially gay young man to some slut, telling her to spread his legs, and expect the man-in-question to come out of it totally straight. And even if Junior, or for that matter, any potentially gay person, did enjoy screwing some slut, it might only mean that he had bi-sexual tendencies. Although he was far from an expert on the subject, Tony sensed that a large number of people leading gay lives were in reality capable of experiences-both homosexually and heterosexually oriented experiences-but managed to fall into their gay rut by convenience; or by a fear of rejection by the opposite sex.
"This is for a psychiatrist-" Tony told himself, suddenly rising and pushing his chair back, wondering what he had let himself in for.
"Well, it might be fun...." Tony shrugged, thinking of how he had staged it all thus far. "It could be fun...."
Tony checked his wristwatch. The store would be closing in a matter of minutes, Junior should be arriving shortly after that. They'd have a drink together-it would seem natural enough. What Junior wouldn't know was that the two girls "just happening to have a drink" at the bar, had been planted there, totally prearranged by Tony.
"Will it work..." Tony started pacing again, doubts about the plan to "Fox Junior with a straight piece of ass," again filling his mind. "It's just not as simple as the Old Man thinks it is," he shrugged, sliding the hidden panel open to observe the start of the store closing.
"Well, hello-" Tony beamed, his eyes moving downward to the jewelry counter. "Lift whatever you want-" he moaned, observing none other than Lisa Pilsner inspecting various pieces.
Tony couldn't help but smile, noticing Shirley and Charley moving in on the jewelry counter, eyeing the attractive woman up and down. At that precise moment, Tony realized, any potential shoplifter could have easily walked off with half of the store, while Charley and Shirley were drooling over Lisa Pilsner clad in that formatting beige outfit, her fur piece so regally draped over her shoulders.
"What's she up to? I wonder," Tony puzzled, resolving to get a pair of binoculars for a better view down there. "I just wonder...."
"What am I doing here?" Lisa asked herself, her hands trembling as she fingered the bracelet. That salesgirl was watching her ever so closely, she knew that. This would be a tough one, she might not get that one necessary moment to sneak the bracelet into her handbag, or tuck it inside her dress.
"No ... no ... no," She didn't want to steal. So what was she doing at the scene of her last crime? "No ... no ... no," she whined, troubled by what hidden force had actually propelled her to this spot. Put the damned bracelet down, she angrily informed herself. Or tell the salesgirl you want to buy it.
Lisa swayed uneasily, straining desperately to understand what had brought her back again. She angrily bit at her lower lip, not certain whether she had driven down or had called a cab.
An analyst ... She contemplated the possibility of seeking professional help. She examined the bracelet-just an ordinary medium-priced trinket, one she'd probably never wear. She needed professional counseling, she was certain of that. But then later she would put it off, just like all the other times. Why couldn't she help herself? She had asked herself that question a thousand times over the past few years.
"May I help you?" the salesgirl asked.
"That's a very nice bracelet-"
"I-I'm not certain-"
"We'll be closing shortly, Ma'am."
"Yes..." How did that saying go? Saved by the bell! Maybe she would get lucky and be saved by the closing.
The bracelet remained in her hands, the feigned inspection. How many times before had she gone through the same routine? If she knew the answer to that, she'd probably know the reason she had suddenly left the house-whether it was by cab or however-to go on a shopping spree. Suddenly she was aware of her handbag. In there ... the evidence ... she had been in that department store across the street from Traymore's ... what that ugly bargain basement., . . now her handbag was heavier and bulky ... what was in there? She dared not look.
Unable to remember what she had tucked into her handbag before dashing out of that crowded bargain basement, she strained her memory even more to recall what had made her so hurriedly dress up and leave the house.
She thumbed through the layers of her mind, realizing that before hurriedly dressing to go on a shopping spree, she had been totally nude.
"Yes ... she recognized the fact, that was why she had to put some clothes on so quickly.
She had to get her clothes on to go shopping. She needed so many items....
"No ... she now whimpered, that wasn't why she had to hurry into her clothing. She had to hurry into her clothing because she had been so totally nude and exposed to-to the whole world.
"Timmy..." He would be coming home at almost any moment and he would have seen her in the raw.
"That's not it ... " she silently informed herself. Timmy had not only seen her nude-he had sexually experienced her that way.
She held the bracelet up closer, for a finer, more feigned examination; from the corner of her eye watching the salesgirl's action. This wasn't the same salesgirl as the other day, Lisa realized that instantly. Just like the husky well-built teenager up in her room that afternoon wasn't Timmy.
Lisa stopped short, the bracelet falling out of her hands back on the counter. The answer had finally surfaced front and center from where it had been locked on the back roads of her troubled mind.
"Roy," she whispered aloud. "One of Timmy's handsome buddies. That dark-haired boy of seventeen, with that rah-rah football hero look.....
"Lady," the salesgirl attempted to gain her attention, "If you've decided-we'll be closing in a minute...."
"Roy..." Lisa whimpered, turning slightly from the intrusion a moistness instantly triggering at the V of her pantied-snatch as she recalled that thick length of throbbing cock on a mere boy. Lisa bit at her lower lip, making the mental comparison between the teenager's equipment and Tony's mature meat. The boy was actually hung heavier than the grown man.
Roy ... he had come to borrow Timmy's tennis racket. "Yes ... " Lisa recalled how it had all started. Timmy had told him that he could borrow it.
Timmy was still at track practice, and had informed his buddy that Lena, the Pilsner's maid, would find the tennis racket for him up in his room.
"Lena's out shopping ... " Lisa had beamed at the boy, holding the door wide open for him. He was slightly shorter than Timmy, but was rippled with muscles. While her Timmy was a basketball and Track man-Roy was for football and wrestling.
"Should I come back later, Mrs. Pilsner," the dark-haired boy had beamed at her.
"Oh, I guess we'll be able to find it," she beamed back, suddenly aware of how those white-duck trousers seemed to be molded to his well-defined frame. And that T-shirt ... how beautifully it outlined a muscle-laden chest and the tautness of his stomach. "Somewhere in the debris of his room."
"That's what my Mom says about my room," Roy chuckled.
"Well, c'mon up with me," she invited him in, eyes sneaking glances at the bulge of his crotch. "You can join in the search."
That boy's eyes ... she was certain that it had grown by leaps and bounds since she had last inspected it. He had caught her in the act of her crotch-inspection, she was certain of that.
"What's the matter?" she had dumbly asked, finally pulling her bne of sight away from the young basket.
"You're so much younger looking than my Mona," he beamed, then flustered. "What I mean is "
The growth of his crotch-area had told her only too well what he had meant. She smiled, unable to find the appropriate words to return to the boy. Instead, she silently held her hands out to him, reaching out to his fantastically beautiful youth.
She could not fully comprehend it, but first her Timmy, then Andy ... she seemed bent on a parade of beautifully young boys. These boys, in the throes of their first sexual excitement.... it was like going to the proverbial fountain of youth. All that exuberance, some of it had to rub off on a woman.
"Oh, wow!" Roy had beamed, working the older woman into his powerful arms, his hands instantly attempting to capture the high rise of sweatered breasts. "You feel so great!"
"You're such a handsome young boy," she had whimpered, a hand brazenly going down to measure the fullness of that bulging crotch. "So handsome," she went on, unzipping his fly to go for an inside measurement.
"Oh, wow!" Roy moaned, reminding her of Andy's youthful zest. "You've got the most fantastic knockers!" he roared, impatiently tugging a hand underneath her sweater to tug at her bra. "You won't laugh if I tell you something-will you, Mrs. Pilsner?"
"No, I won't," she replied, thinking of the absurdity of the formality of the Mrs. Pilsner as he wrestled with her bra. "I promise I won't," she added, struggling valiantly to work her fingers inside the fly of his jam-packed jockey shorts, that like her Timmy's, seemed to be at least two sizes too small under this type of stress and strain.
"A couple of times-I've actually jerked off thinking about you," he moaned, working a hand inside a bra-cup. "I mean, after times that I had been here with Timmy, and saw you sitting around ... if you know what I mean...."
"Yes, Roy,. . . " she started, but didn't complete it as she tightened, incredulously wondering if that long, thick reel of cock could actually belong to a teenaged boy. "It's so big!" she gasped, managing to tug it out into the opening of his trousers. "I can't believe-"
"It's been like that since I was fifteen!" Roy boasted. "It just grew-"
"Oh, and I'm glad it did," Lisa whimpered, automatically dropping down on her knees, instantly working her mouth over the head of it.
"Oh, I love that-" Roy tensed, his long hands working downward to receive the fringe benefit-thrill of her lush mounds. "Oh, that's terrific," he whimpered, feeling her mouth so expertly glide down the length of his thick cock. "Oh, wow!" he youthfully exclaimed, feeling the head of his cock actually being pinned down at the start of her throat. This was it, he thought, the really big kick. He had gone ah" the way with two high school girls so far in his seventeen years on earth. Both times, while the girls had been babysitting, he had begged them to put their mouths down on his cock: "Just kiss it, please." Both times, the girls had balked at that seemingly unnatural act.
"Please not that," one of them had insisted, "I'll do almost anything but that."
Well, it was happening to him now, by an older and very experienced woman-his buddy's mom-and it was fantastically great. The boy watched the woman slobber her mouth up and down his hard meat, realizing that Timmy must never know about this episode.
Lisa worked her mouth fully up and down, slobbering openly at the joy of having a man's cock on a beautiful young boy. On this score, the cliche about having your cake and eating it too must certainly apply, she smugly informed herself.
Easy does it ... she warned herself, not wanting the boy to orgasm, too soon. Nice and easy ... she slowed the mouth-to-cock action, her hands going up to undo the boy's thick leather belt buckle. Never missing a mouth-to-cock stroke, she unsnapped the one button to part his trousers.
"Can I give it to you?" she heard the boy implore her, his hands growing rough on her breasts. "Can I screw you, Mrs. Pilsner?"
"Yes," she gasped, letting the thick reel of prick loudly plop out of her mouth. "Whatever you want-but you mustn't ever tell, not ever ... "
"I won't--" he whimpered. "Can I see you with no clothes on please, Mrs. Pilsner, take everything off!"
"You do the same thing," she smiled, bringing her lips to his, quickly flicking them.
Oh, wow!" He seemed to ache all over, lifting her upward off her knees. "Can I tongue-kiss you?" he honestly asked, his body now fully pressing hers, that exposed hard prick banging into her skirt-covered snatch area.
"Like this?" she brazenly countered, mouth open, pressing against his, tongue instantly slithering about within his mouth.
"Oh, wow!" He repeated the Now Generation phrase of exclamation.
"How about those clothes-" Lisa beamed, undoing the zipper at the side of her skirt.
"Yeah ... " he finally managed, already tugging down his trousers.
The floor a battleground of discarded clothing, they inspected each other:
The young boy ... the mature woman . . .both on the high shrine of beautiful nudity.
"I want to give it to you..." Roy started, extending a hand down to her flaming red-haired snatch. "We're alone..." she replied, enjoying the feel of his trembling fingers at her love-slit. "Tell it like it is. Tell me what you want to do to me. I'd love to hear it."
"I-I'd love to screw you."
"Really like it is," she shot back, spreading her legs further apart for the benefit of his busy fingers. "Don't hold anything back, tell it right out."
"Oh, wow! What I mean is-I'd like to fuck you." He jabbed his fingers deeper up into her cunt. "Yeah, I'd really love to."
"Then do it," she brazenly shot back, leading the boy over to Timmy's bed. "Fuck the shit out of my cunt!"
"Like crazy I'll fuck you-" Roy went on, a hand planted firmly on his ready cock. "Like crazy!"
"No, wait ... " Lisa stopped short at the edge of Timmy's bed, instantly drawing a mental image of how her son had thundered her with his love on that bed.
"What's the matter-"
"Quick, across the hall, in my bedroom-"
"But what's the difference-"
"Please, do as I say," she cut in, dashing out of the room, hurrying to what her mind obviously thought would be the safe psychological haven of her room-the room she shared with so very little love with her husband. There, she had a right to get as much loving as possible.
"Loving ... " she whispered, sitting on the edge of her marital bed. "Fucking..." That's what she could never get enough of with her husband. And now she would get as much as she could possibly get with this teenaged boy with a man-sized cock jutting directly into her face.
"Oh, let me give it to you," the boy whimpered, aiming his cast-iron tool toward her love-mound. "Let me fuck you!"
"Oh, give it to me!" she shot back, suddenly thrusting herself back on the bed, her legs flying animal-like up into the air. "Fuck me, young lover, fuck my cunt royally!"
Lisa suddenly cringed, suddenly aware of the fact that she was once again "examining" that certain bracelet. She caught the salesgirl staring at her.
Why? Lisa wanted to know why that girl was looking at her like that. Maybe she knew what a perverted slut she was becoming, Lisa inwardly shuddered, imagining Timmy's buddy already spreading the gossip around the neighborhood and out and beyond for the world to know:
"Hey fellas! Want a good blow-job? Go see Timmy's mother, she'll suck your prick royally!"
"Hey, guys! Want a real fantastic piece of ass? See Timmy's old lady! She fucks like a mink! On top or on the bottom-she throws a wicked fuck."
A strange feeling came over Lisa, she seemed totally unable to put that bracelet back down on the counter. She felt beads of perspiration starting at her forehead. That salesgirl staring at her like that ... did the girl know about her sickness? What was the word ... kleptomania!
No ... she could sense that lewd sneer on the salesgirl's face. That brand of sneer wasn't for a kleptomaniac. To Lisa's troubled mind, it was as though this salesgirl had actually been an audience of one, a spectator to Lisa's crowning sex feat with that muscular, well-hung teenaged boy.
Roy had thundered her furiously with his thick cock, holding out as long as he could before flooding her with his river of hot love-juice. Through it all, she had viewed that rugged young ass bouncing up and down over her through the full-length mirror at an angle from the foot of the bed.
"Oh, that beautiful sweet ass-" she heard repeated, seemingly in time with each and every one of his enthusiastic cock-to-cunt thrusts. "Oh, that fantastic young ass-" She had continually slithered her tongue over her lips, her hands moving up to capture those muscled buttocks, fingers probing and digging into the well-defined crack.
It was only a matter of second-merely seconds from the time he had heaved his final sigh, his spent cock having erupted its final drop of semen-when she turned him over, her tongue dashing madly for the crack of his ass.
"Oh, let me taste it," she growled, spreading his legs wide apart, the tongue flicking up and down the length of it. "Oh, how delicious-"
"What the hell-" Roy had puzzled, totally unable to comprehend the woman's desire to run her tongue up and down the length of his ass-hole. "Whatcha doing?" he tightened, feeling the new sensation. He asked the inevitable question of youth and inexperience: Why would she want to suck an ass-hole-when she could suck his cock? Even his balls-he could understand that-but why his ass-hole?
"Oh, please, just stay still," she begged, the tongue gliding back and focth. "If I showed you a good time-then give me a break."
"Yeah, sure ... Oh, wow!" he suddenly yelled, feeling the tip of her tongue digging frantically down into his ass-crack, seemingly in search of shit. "Oh, whatever it is you're doing-do it-do it-do it.... "
Lisa jarred her mind back to the present, watching that damned salesgirl turn to check her register. "Do it..." Lisa whispered hoarsely to herself. "Do it ... " she repeated, a subconscious voice telling her to shove the bracelet into her handbag. No-up into low-plunge of her dress, sneak it right inside her bra. This was her big chance-it would have to be now or never.
"Mrs. Pilsner?"
The voice was coming from behind her-directly behind her-she could feel the man's breath. She dropped the bracelet on the counter, ready to turn and run. They wouldn't catch her this time, not again.
"Hello..." the voice seemed softer. Suspiciously, Lisa turned slightly. "You are Mrs. Pilsner, aren't you?" The young man asked. "I thought I recognized you."
I-I don't-" She flustered, studying the young man obviously in his very early twenties. "I don't know...." she stopped, dumbfounded by the sight of him. He seemed much too kind and considerate to be a store detective. And that smile, so warm....
"I'm Junior Traymore " he smiled. "I met you at the Club....."
Oh-oh, yes," she whispered in a barely audible, but totally relieved tone. "Yes, I remember now-
Clarence Traymore Junior then uttered the prize understatement of his twenty-one years. "I'm a friend of your husband's."
"Oh."
"What I mean is-" the handsome young man with the sensitive features flustered. "I know him-I know your husband..."
Tony Mondor stepped gingerly out of the elevator. He stopped short, at the sight of Junior and Lisa engaged in conversation.
"Well, I'll be..." Tony gave it all a "why not?" shrug, sensing an unexpected change in plans. "This could very well be old home week ... " he gleefully murmured under his breath. "A good old-fashioned fuckin' home week."