Girl At The Mall

by Joris K. Huysmans

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, BBW, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Trust me, nobody with a nametag gets any action from all the girls you see walking through the mall. Until I noticed this one...

I manage a shoe store at a big mall. There's not much point in describing any of it further than that because hey, all malls are alike, right? Except the ones with more closed than open stores, but we're not there yet. So we get a decent amount of traffic, and girls of all ages, although I've started to notice a funny thing which is that they get younger and I get older. Doesn't matter, really, I guess, since you can check them out at any age (though somewhere below 18 you're starting to be a perv) and it doesn't really matter because you're not going home with any of them. Trust me, that's the reality of working in a mall, you can look all day but nobody with a nametag on is going home with any of them. People date their coworkers, but nobody goes home with the girls they see walking through the mall all day long.

Now, one of the innovations in how girls dress that I really like, I mean really like, is this thing of wearing the low cut jeans that practically ride right on your hips, and wearing a top that cuts off a little above that point, and leaving a couple of inches of exposed belly and hip. I see that, the top of a butt peering out from those low-riding jeans, and I can just imagine sliding my hand down that belly and into those jeans, roaming through fur until you find the slippery spot deep down. You see a really cute girl dressed like that, and it's enough to get you through the rest of the day and most of the night, pounding your meat at the thought of her.

Then you see something that kind of puts you off the whole idea. Like a few weeks ago, I saw this fat chick dressed like that. Jiggly belly and fat round haunches sticking out between her top and her pants. Doesn't she know that she's showing enough for three chicks? Moooo, who needs to see that?

But the funny thing was, after I saw it, I couldn't help think about her. And in a funny way, I kind of came to respect her for showing off the latest fashion even when it was so unsuited to her. It was fearless, you had to give her that. That was a pretty good word for her whole attitude, actually--there she was, round and sturdy, and she just showed it off like every guy would want it, and if they didn't, too bad for them. I even kind of thought about her for a second as I was beating off that night, though I quickly put her out of my head and concentrated on real sexy chicks. Skinny chicks.

I saw her again a couple of days later, dressed the same way, and this time I really paid attention. It wasn't just seeing that big slice of her fat again, but the way she moved--her big buttcheeks rising and falling with every step like a couple of cams, her fat round tits sticking out proudly, and most of all the cheerful look on her dark face--was she Hispanic? Middle eastern? Hard to say, but she had luminous dark eyes glowing in a setting of olive skin. Maybe that was why she seemed so proud and unafraid, she belonged to a culture where her size was still prized. Where guys dreamed of burying themselves in her mounds of flesh, of taking her from behind and watching that ass work up and down like cams with their cock in it. Jamming it into that massive ass which I could see the top of, circling an arm around that strip of fat tummy flesh as they pounded away at her steaming snatch. These were the things I dreamed of unashamedly as I pulled my pud two, three times a night and then again in the morning.

It got to where I started watching for her every day, disappointed on the three or four days when I wouldn't see her, almost tongue-tied when I did see her go by, inventing errands to follow her to another store before I'd race back to my own. If I saw her turn toward the food court I'd take my dinner early, like 2:15, and sit at an angle to her where she wouldn't see me watching her. She never seemed to notice, thank God.

It was a busy day when I hardly had time to think about her, let alone sneak into the back and give myself the relief of a hurried jackoff into a discarded shoebox. And then suddenly--she was in my store, looking at some sandals. And there it was, that strip of flesh going all the way around that I dreamed of running my arms around, feeling the softness of her belly squishing in my grasp, the warmth of her butt as it pressed up against me. That was what I was dreaming, but at the same time I was thinking, how, how could I make it come true? What could I say that would get an invitation to dinner or something accepted--"Gee, for a fat girl you seem to have a really positive self-image?"

In the end there was only thing a guy in my position could say--"Would you like me to see if we have that in your size?" Hoping that she wouldn't take that as a size insult, believe me, I have something else I would love to see if it fits. She nodded and I hurried back to pull it from the shelves, praying she wouldn't leave in the meantime (as many people do, sending us back just to get rid of us).

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / BBW /