Jane decided to give herself an evening at the mall. It was a decision that made her smile. She dressed fairly nicely for her outing. It was beige linen slacks, a kind of silkish beige over blouse that was gathered by a tan belt at the waist. The linen slacks showed a modest amount of 'vpl'. This made Jane giggle, when looking at herself in the mirror. She liked the line of her panties to show. It made her feel sexy, and feeling sexy was exactly what she needed for an outing at the mall. The panties and bra were matching. Tonight she wore a pair of beige panties that had lovely lace at the waist, and lace panels at the leg bands. She felt special in them.
She reasoned with herself: 'I've been working hard lately, and the job wasn't all that exciting. It was okay and paid well but she knew that this is where she found excitement.'
She also let the thought wander through her mind that what she did was perfectly harmless. No one knew; no one ever found out, and she was happy with this little game.
She often wondered if she could be called a 'stalker' but the name, the title never really seemed to fit. She'd just go to the mall and find someone.
The definition of 'someone' for Jane was always pretty much the same. It would invariably be a black girl. She'd always younger than her own 38 years. She'd frequently be a teen ager. She'd certainly be attractive. And, this was crucial for Jane, she'd be a person with an attitude.
Once Jane found such a girl, woman at the Mall, she'd follow her around. She'd do it discretely, and secretively. She follow her around until she had pretty much memorized what the girl looked like. Then, when Jane had all the characteristics memorized, she'd go home with them bouncing around in her mind.
Once at home Jane would hasten to the bedroom. Off would come the lovely silkish beige over blouse; off would come the chic looking beige linen pants.
During this part of her ritual, Jane would even often practice a dialogue with her chosen girl.
She'd say: "Yes, ma'am, I'm stripping, as you told me."
Or: "Yes, Mistress, I'll take my clothes off immediately."
Then Jane was down to her panties and bra; she'd picture herself then being forced to lick surfaces of black skin, to use her tongue on patches of curly black pubic hair, to seek out the texture and silkiness of pussy lips inside of the wiry hair. She'd hold onto this fantasy until the orgasm burst over her and overwhelmed her.
This was Jane's game; it was the 'Mall Game' and she allowed herself to play the 'Mall Game' maybe once a week. Tonight was Jane's night for the 'Mall Game'.
She parked on the wooded side of the mall parking lot, and toward the back. This gave Jane almost exactly the correct amount of time to get into the 'mall mood' for her hunt. She invariably was smiling by the time that she entered the mall from the parking lot.
She was smiling because she was seeking her prey but in her own delicious twisted way. The prey would always turn on Jane, and it would be Jane that ended up being the victim. She'd be a willing victim, and it would be delicious.
She moved into the mall and began her wandering. She invariably bought a few items to make her shopping trip look legitimate. On this occasion it was into a woman's store and she bought herself a small group of panties. They were of different colors, so that she could match a color each day with her own mood. Jane liked that idea.
All the while that Jane was casually shopping she was also looking around at the other shoppers. She was actually in her secret mode of selecting a 'mistress' for herself. The game had begun, and Jane, in her quiet way, loved the fact that she was the only person playing. She also enjoyed the fact that everyone else was subject to her decisions in the game.
She was in the act of paying at the register, wondering about the sales clerk taking her credit card. But a voice nagged at Jane: "No, I want a black mistress, an african american mistress."
That voice was one that Jane couldn't deny. The pull was so strong that this was always, always one of the basics of her search. That meant that the lovely young white sales clerk wouldn't do. Jane just couldn't select her to be the one to dominate her.
Maybe sometime she'd loosen up her fantasy standards but for right now, she'd go with this. It needed to be a black girl to make her tremble. Just the thought made Jane smile, and made her wet at her pussy.
She twirled that thought around in her mind: "What if they could divine what I'm thinking," she thought. "What if they could know that I'm smiling now because my pussy is wet from thinking about having a black mistress?"
Jane almost chewed on the words; she loved using words that she thought of as dirty words. They were at least words that fit into her 'dirty' game. She loved thinking in her mind about her 'pussy, ' or her 'panties'. If she was desperate, she'd let her mind ring with words like 'her snatch, ' or 'her cunt, ' and she could always push herself into almost a sexual tizzy by thinking of being someone's 'whore.' Jane loved the words, almost as much as she loved the game, the pursuit.
And at that very moment, the game began in earnest. Outside the window of the store she saw four black girls looking at the lingerie in the window and laughing at their jokes and jibes.
Jane's antennae went up, as she tried to casually glance at the four girls. She was almost dumbfounded by the pants that one of the girls was wearing. The pants were skin tight, white; they were made of a kind of lycra material. The girl had a lovely, rounded, very prominent ass. Above that she wore a cut off tee shirt. The tee shirt allowed her navel and coffee colored stomach to show.
Jane was in lust immediately.
"Tonight's prey," she exulted. That thought was followed by the thought: "Tonight's mistress; my own, cruel, demanding mistress."
She played with the thoughts, played with the language; she let them bounce along inside of her head, as she left the register, and went through the entrance to follow her 'prey'.
She began her careful tabulation, her careful following of the girl. She began to take in the details, take in the contours, and the textures so that she could play the game fully later at home, when she'd gotten herself down to only those pretty beige panties.
What Jane didn't know was that the girl had already noticed Jane's initial reaction to her and her friends. She made a comment about 'grandma checking us out.'
Then the game began. Jane followed the girls. She followed them discreetly, always watching, always sizing up, always observing. She wanted to be able to recreate for her nocturnal fantasies the shape of her ass, her wonderful ass, which was barely poured into the clinging white, lycra fabric of her pants. She wanted it all in her mind.
She was telling herself, as she wandered along, that this was just the best 'subject' for her game yet. This girl was one that she could draw upon for a long time.
Jane was excited, as she observed; she could feel her pussy getting wetter. The thought flitted across her mind that she was 'wet in the snatch.' That caused a giggle, which she hardly suppressed. She followed them through half of the mall. She was being careful, she was being discreet and constantly taking in details.
She notice that the girl wore a pair of thong panties. She could see the strap of the thong disappear into the crack of the girl's ass.
"Of my mistress' ass," Jane whispered to herself.
This was just going to be the greatest of her game outings ever. Just the greatest. She was really sorry that she had no hidden, small, discreet camera to take a picture of that ass, that white lycra spandex covered ass that she coveted.
She was in the middle of this thought, when disaster struck.
She wasn't watching where she was going. She was deep into the new plan to take pictures of the ass to capture it and be able to look at it at any time, when she actually ran into the girls.
In her reverie, Jane didn't realize that the girls had noticed her following behind them. She didn't realize that they were wondering what this 'old white cunt' was up to, following them, and sizing them up.
Nor did Jane know that the girl that was the object of her personal search, Thalia, was already way beyond annoyed with Jane's behavior. Jane had no clue. So, Jane wasn't ready for any kind of confrontation, when she walked into the girls.
She was so taken aback by the collision that she just squeaked, when she ran into them.
"Hey, lady, what the fuck are you doin'?" Thalia--her 'mistress' demanded to know.
Jane was dumb struck by the accident, by the fact that she'd allowed herself to blunder in the 'game', by the fact that now she was actually being confronted by her 'prey'.
"Speak up, grandma, or I'll bitch slap you one," Thalia said next to Jane.
All that Jane could manage was an incoherent mumble. Then she did what she thought would be best, since the 'game' was blown. She turned on her heels and headed for the exit.
Jane comforted herself with the thought that she'd gotten enough information, enough 'input' from her observations to make her nocturnal finish of the 'game' a success. She certainly wouldn't be able to get that dominating, lovely round ass out of her mind very quickly.
She never noticed that she'd dropped her bag, her shopping bag in the store, where she ran into the girls. She'd lost her bag full of panties. It never occurred to her at all. It never occurred to her until she was at her car, in the back of the lot, and had the door open.
"Ohhh," she moaned to herself, when she realized it.
.... There is more of this story ...