Shopping For That Special Gift

(C) 2003 2004 SouthSkyEyes, All Rights Reserved

I remain in the car to have another smoke, nervous, quadruple checking the numbers I've recorded on this little slip of paper for my first and second choices. Hoping all I have to do is tell the clerk, whomever she or he may be, the item number of what I want rather than having to describe it. I'll go into the store as soon as my erection subsides. I pray I won't get too aroused while shopping.

My wife's courageous labors to birth our children had left her vagina enlarged and softened. To our mutual relief we finally discussed this, both sharing a level of disappointment over the reduced pleasure of intercourse compared to when we first met and were being "bunnies," as she puts it. In private, I studied the catalogue of a nationwide adult toy distributor. Deciding against a slip-on "enhancer," I searched for a novelty cock, one that looks and feels life-like, one thicker than mine, to stimulate her in ways my erection no longer does. I recorded the item number for two that seemed appropriate.

I imagined her response to the sensations offered by a cock larger than mine, pressing into her, filling her so fully, so completely, and stroking to her deep pleasure. Then, I imagined what it would be like for me, to see this other cock plunged into my wife's sweet pussy and watching the excitement, the pleasure, the satisfaction come to her face over the experience of a shaft longer and thicker than mine.

These thoughts, and the humbling images they stirred up, kept reemerging, haunting me, and exciting me, as well. Over the next few days, I'd get bone hard each time I imagined walking into that store, the distributor's local retail store. That weekend, Saturday afternoon, my wife left to go shopping for a few hours. I knew I was as ready as I'd ever be to step into that store. After a tough decision against masturbating, to "take the edge off," I headed off to make my purchase, making sure I had the little slip of paper in my pocket.

So I get out of the car and walk across the parking lot, wondering if I should tuck in my shirt. My shirt tail will hide the tell-tale bulge of my excitement if I get aroused. But it occurs to me that keeping my shirt untucked will actually expose my fear of becoming aroused in public to this store's seasoned staff. So I tuck it in, nervously glancing up catching sight of this woman, watching me from inside the store as my right hand is down the front of my jeans. Trying to pretend this never happened, I take a moment to study the signs on the windows, waiting for the redness in my face to subside.

It takes me a few minutes to regather the courage to enter the store. I make sure the door closes quietly behind me and take a moment, fiddling with little slip of paper in my left hand as I take in the wall-to-wall fantasyland before me. Looking around I see five women and, thankfully, no other men.

I discern the staff from the shoppers, the three women in black dresses. For some reason I take comfort knowing I'll be dealing with a woman rather than a man. Two of the staff people are assisting other shoppers. One of the shoppers, the woman who saw me with my hand down my jeans, is holding up a hot red lingerie set that will leave her crotch and nipples exposed. She glances at me, flashes a timid smile, and returns to studying the set as her clerk assists her. The other shopper is inspecting packaged merchandise on the far wall. Her clerk is pointing out items looking similar to what I'm wanting to purchase.

To my deep relief the third clerk, standing behind the checkout counter, turns toward me and makes eye contact. She appears to be in her late 20's and about my height, 5 foot 6. She smiles at me with her pale-red painted lips and dark eyes peering out from behind her swagged shoulder-length auburn hair. I find her very alluring.

To my dismay, she proceeds to announce my presence, bellowing out, "May I help you?"

I cringe, certain all the women in the store are staring right at me, wondering, what toy I'm looking to take home to masturbate with. But the sight of my clerk sauntering toward me recaptures my attention. Her moderately full but firm shapely body looks so fine under her snug long black dress. She stops about three feet in front of me. The v-cut front of her dress plunges to the middle of her belly, offering an exciting view of her cleavage. Her smooth plump rounded tits meet so gracefully, casting a deep shadow on her fair skinned chest. I shake loose my stare, embarrassed, realizing she has to be aware I was staring at her chest.

Thankfully, she is quite forgiving, as she gives me a knowing smile, offering her assistance again, "May I help you find something?"

"Yes," I affirm, glancing down at the little slip of paper, "I'm looking for item #5516 ... for my wife," I emphasize.

"Sure," she replies, in a calming voice, "follow me over to the wall merchandise."

I walk behind her doing my best to resist the urge to stare at the sway of her snugly held ass, knowing this could set off an erection in short order. She's aware I'm nervous, doing her best to help me with a friendly matter-of-fact approach.

"It appears we're out of that item," she explains, "but we have others that may interest you. How about this cock?" she asks, pulling a package from the wall holding a life-like-skin covered monster-of-a-shaft, presenting it for my inspection. The shopper to my right is staring at me. I can only imagine what she must be thinking.

"Ahhh ..." I reply, nearly choking over my words, "I think this may be a bit too much ... for my wife," as I imagine both these women are wondering how small is my cock.

My clerk points out a few other ones, cheaper looking ones. I let her know I'm definitely looking for a better "one."

She motions me to follow her to a display case, sharing, "I've tested all the products we carry for women, so I'll be happy to help you make a selection and answer any question."

My cock warms and twitches as I imagine her at home, night after night, laying back with her legs spread, pussy primed and gaping, dutifully testing specimens of the store's wide variety of novelties. Nice perk, but I can only believe this might create a little bit of performance anxiety for her intimate partner.

She steps behind the case and pulls out the "Decadent Indulgence." It is a marvel for sure. She bends the top of the shaft, flips on one of the unit's two switches and sets it in palms of my hands. I watch it vibrate, rotate, and oscillate as she explains its various features, including the band of rotating beads, "that will provide maximal pleasure to your wife's G-spot."

As I start to ask about the little bird-like figure near the base of the unit she flips on the other switch, making it blur and hum. "This humming bird is adjustable to provide a wide variety of clitoral stimulation," she offers, with a big smile, showing me how to bend the humming-bird and "rev" it, as this beast of pleasure whirls in my hands.

I'm convinced this would bring deep pleasure to any woman and is worth every penny of its $99.95 price tag. But it seems like ... such an appliance. Feeling more comfortable now, I look into her eyes, doing my best to remain straight-faced, stating, "This is fantastic, but I want there to be something for me to do other than just sit back and watch my wife have fun."

She lets out a few giggles before clamping her lips to avoid busting out in laughter. Nodding her confirmation, she retrieves the beast, turns it off and puts it back on display. Still struggling to contain her laughter, she motions me to another section, of the wall merchandise.

"I think ..." she offers, still chucking, "I know what you're looking for." She pulls two packages from the display, steps behind the counter and sets them down for my inspection. "This cock," she explains, pulling out the contents, "is for handheld operation and includes an imbedded vibrating bead, controlled by this simple adjustable switch, to stimulate her G-spot."

She holds it up inviting me to "feel how life-like the skin is and the firmness of the erection, and how realistic the sack feels."

I'm feeling intimidated, again, but check it out as she runs the slide switch up and down demonstrating the range of vibration. I think my wife will like this one.

She pulls out the other one, offering, "This cock is for hands-free operation. The suction cup will attach to any smooth surface like a floor or bathtub, but this one doesn't vibrate."

I imagine my wife, at home, alone, her bottom hovering over this cock as she crouches in the tub. She'd certainly enjoy this one.

My attention returns to my clerk, who makes me cringe as I watch her grasp both items, by the balls, to present them side by side, shafts horizontal, pointing directly at my face.

She leans over the counter, quietly inviting me to "test the difference in their shafts."

In the rush of excitement and intimidation, my eyes jump from the merchandise to the enthralling view offered by her lean over the counter. Her plump tits are pressed to the countertop, leaving the edges of her plush dark areola exposed. I note their dimpled texture as I search in vain for a glimpse at her nipples. I shake loose my stare and quickly test the firmness and flexibility of the cocks, holding back the urge to proclaim "it's not for me." I decide to get the "one" that vibrates, feeling greatly relieved I'm finished handling cocks in public.

"You'll want to get a good quality lubricant," she affirms, very matter-of-factly, "and a cleanser, and conditioner too," and proceeds to explain how to take proper care of it. I can tell my latest study of her tits did not go unnoticed.

"Your cock must be thoroughly cleaned after each use ... " she quips, pausing to see if she's got my full attention, which she does. "Let it air dry," she continues, "and then apply a liberal amount of the conditioning powder and rub it in thoroughly."

Watching her demonstrating "rub it in thoroughly" makes my cock snap to attention. A damp spot has come to the front of my jeans. She continues instructing me, patiently, thoroughly, insisting I give it a try, smiling, purposely extending my lesson to have fun watching me squirm as I stroke the cock a few times. I know I was glaring at her tits, but I want her to stop before I become helplessly aroused and cream my pants.

Thankfully, finally, she ends the lesson, my purchase is completed, and doing my best to be nonchalant, I hold the bag to hide the top of my jeans as I step back from the counter. I can tell by her smile she knows I'm leaving bone hard and dribbling.

I get back into the car and take a moment to settle down, feeling greatly relieved this shopping experience is over. I know I'll be more comfortable shopping here the next time, thanks largely to the friendly clerk, in all her knowledge, sensitivity, and her half-exposed tits, and in spite of her merciless teasing. Yea, I had it coming.