Shopping

by God of Porn

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft, Consensual, Public Sex, Prostitution, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: In this universe men are basically the same as they've always been, but the women have adjusted much better...or maybe not.

"Let's go shopping," Mom said, which is like secret code for let's go find some guys to have sex with.

Except it isn't much of a secret and there's only the two of us anyway. Like it's bad manners to actually say it out loud or something. I wasn't that old yet, so what did I know anyway? That's why I had a mom, to teach me about stuff like how to behave, what to wear, and how to take care of myself. I had a pretty good one, so I wasn't complaining.

"Not too much," she said, watching as I put on some eye shadow. "Your eyes are too pretty for that."

"I just wanna make them pop," I said, but I did look like a raccoon. Sorta.

"They pop all by themselves," she told me. "Here, let me show you."

Like I said, I'd gotten lucky with my mom and she took the time to make my face up perfectly. I paid attention, too. I wanted to learn how she did it, you know?

"There." She smiled at my reflection. "That looks better, right?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Thanks Mom."

"Okay, find some shoes and we'll go," she said, glancing at my bedside clock. "It's getting late."

I'd gotten my clock at Disneyland and I sort of collected silly stuff like that. Minnie Mouse was bent over a round alarm clock, wearing her short polka dot skirt and purple high heels, while Mickey fucked her from behind. He held her tits with his cock buried in her pussy, wearing his trademark smile. When the alarm went off, Mickey would say, "I'm cumming!" over and over in his squeaky voice. His ears would twitch and Minnie would quickly nod her head up and down. It was cute and I liked it, what can I say?

My bedroom had all the usual stuff, like my queen sized bed and my dresser with the big mirror. I had my vanity, you know, where Mom helped me with my make-up. I had a desk and a bookcase, except I didn't read much. I had a lot of magazines and I liked to look through them, but that's not reading. I had my computer, of course, and five webcams. One in each corner and the one built into the laptop, and they were always turned on, much like my radio.

I wouldn't say I'm a music lover, but I didn't mind and I liked to dance anyway. Mostly I tuned it to the college station, just because they played the newest stuff. At the moment, Eminem was rapping about how he'd fucked Katy Perry in the ass for being a pop retard. In fact, I think that's the name of the song, "Pop Retard" and I made a note to look for it at the mall. I liked Eminem a lot and Mom thought he was a good influence, so I knew she wouldn't mind.

There were other things in my room, too. It wasn't all furniture, I collected teddy bears, for one thing, and I had a lot of them. My favorite was a big white one, like an over-stuffed polar bear, except super soft and he had a monster cock, which wasn't very soft at all. Mom had laughed when she saw him, teasing me about being a little size queen or whatever, but I liked him. I already had a bunch of bears with more normal sized cocks anyway, and a few that were smaller. So why not get a huge one, right?

I collected dildos and vibrators too, but I didn't have very many yet. I'd found a dildo ring in a box of Cap'n Crunch, which sort of started it. It was just plastic, you know, and the actual penis wasn't very big at all, but I'd worn it to school for a week. I'd ruined it though, because I tended to nibble on it accidentally. Like I'd be thinking about something else and then realize I'd been chewing my dildo ring. I got another one though, a pink one from another box, even though I hadn't eaten all the cereal in the first box yet. I didn't bring that one to school.

Of course, I had all the usual stuff you'd expect to find in a girl's bedroom. I mean, the top of my dresser was cluttered with hairbrushes and clips and too much junk jewelry for my jewelry box. I owned some real jewelry, like my aquamarine earrings, since my birthday's in March. They were pretty nice. I had a silver ring with a tiny rose on it, with super thin petals and it had been red once, but most of the paint had flaked off. That just made it look even better, I thought. I wore that one a lot and I didn't nibble on it at all.

Pictures of my friends and classmates were stuffed along the mirror frame. I had some posters on the walls, movies mostly, like Beauty and the Beast. I liked that movie a lot and Belle was curled up in the beast's arms while she sucked his cock. I had a Supergirl poster that was really cool, like she's ripping her costume off, tearing it down the front so her tits are right there and totally awesome, her stomach is tight with abs, and there's just a hint of blonde pubic hair starting to show. I'm not really into comic books, but Supergirl is pretty cool.

"Lisa!" Mom's voice echoed down the hallway. "Are you coming or not?"

"Just a second," I sang, buckling the strap of my left shoe.

I could have worn my Skechers maybe, but I liked being taller and three inch heels are always good for that. Any higher is like standing on stilts. I stood up, smoothing my pleated skirt, and adjusted my tits on the way out the door. I wore a halter top, the kind with a little extra padding just so I'd have more than tangerine sized boobs. It was kind of cheating, but nobody would really care and I always figured I had a right to look nice. Mom said I shouldn't be in such a hurry to grow up all the time, but that was easy for her to say, being almost twenty-two years old already.

"You move like molasses in January," she sighed. "Where's your purse?"

"In the kitchen," I replied, turning around. I wasn't really an airhead, but I did forget things sometimes.

Mom had a nice car, a small Porsche that she'd gotten from her Mom, and someday it would be mine. I couldn't wait, except I really could. I mean, it's kind of weird knowing that eventually I'd have my own apartment and my own car and even my own daughter, but at the same time I'd lose my mother. It's a bitter-sweet feeling, believe me, and even though I hadn't known Mom very long, I liked her a lot. Part of me wished we'd be together like this forever, you know?

"What's gonna happen to you when I grow up?" I asked, and not for the first time. I had a lot of questions and sometimes Mom would get annoyed with me, but I'm pretty sure she'd been the same way at my age.

"You know what happens," she said, adjusting her rearview mirror. "I'll go to heaven. So will you someday."

"Yeah, but..." I shrugged. "What will it be like?"

"Well, I'll probably get fat and have a bunch of babies."

"You're never going to be fat," I decided with a snort, knowing she was teasing me. My mom looked amazing. Naked or dressed, it didn't matter, and I couldn't wait to look like her.

"Maybe not," she said. "But I'll be pregnant and my stomach will get huge, my boobs will be full of milk, and I'll feel like a blimp."

"But you'll have a baby," I said, and she had to smile at that.

"Maybe I'll have twins."

"Is heaven nice?" I wondered.

"They say it is," Mom replied. "That's why it's called heaven."

"Do you think I'll ever see you again?"

"What's gotten into you?" she asked. "You'll see me everyday for the next eight years, Lisa."

"I know, but..."

"And then you'll have your own daughter and she'll be asking you the same silly questions."

"Yeah," I said, giggling. "I hope she's pretty."

"She'll be pretty," Mom said, glancing at me and smiling. "She'll look just like you."

"Except I'm going to make her blonde," I thought aloud. Mom had black hair, so I did as well, and she refused to let me color it for some reason.

"That's up to you," she agreed, but the tone of her voice suggested otherwise.

"How come you don't like blondes?"

"There's too many of them, for one thing," she said. "I'd rather be myself, you know?"

"I guess," I sighed, but that didn't explain why I couldn't be a blonde. I had the eyes for it, we both did, bright blue eyes that would look great with thick golden hair.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, all innocent and smiling. "Oh! I'm going to be in the school play. I almost forgot."

"A play?"

"Sleeping Beauty," I told her. "It's okay, right?"

"Sure," Mom nodded. "Are you going to be Sleeping Beauty?"

"Me?" I shook my head. "They picked Janey for that. She's blonde, you know."

"I don't think that's why they picked her," she said. "So what part are you playing?"

"Prince Charming," I said. "I get to fight the dragon and then I have to fuck Janey to wake her up."

"Oh." Mom smiled. "That'll be fun."

"She wants to practice this weekend. You think I can stay at her house?"

"All weekend? No."

"But we need to practice!"

"How about if you stay at her house Friday night and she can stay with us Saturday night?"

"Really?" I asked, smiling because that sounded like a good idea. "Okay. I'll ask her tomorrow."

"Do you have a costume already?" Mom asked, and I nodded.

"Yeah, I have to dress like a boy," I said. "But the sword's kind of cool and I get a strap-on dildo thing, it's kind of big."

"How big?"

"I dunno." I shrugged and held my hands about six or seven inches apart. "Like this long, I guess. Kinda thick too."

"Okay. That's not too bad."

"I didn't try it on yet," I told her. "I hope it doesn't make me look stupid."

"No!" Mom laughed lightly. "You'll make a wonderful Prince Charming, I'm sure."

"It just seems kinda gay."

"It's acting," she said. "Pretending you're a boy doesn't make you a lesbian."

"I hope not!" I laughed. "That would be so sick."

By that time, we'd reached the mall. It was kind of late, so we'd only have about an hour to shop if we wanted to make it back home before curfew. If we didn't make it back home, and the police caught us, we'd have to spend the night in jail. Well, not in a cell. I mean, we'd have to stay at the police station, probably sleeping on an old couch or something. At least we'd have all the donuts we wanted, all the cock too, probably, since cops are like anyone else. I sorta liked sleeping in my own bed though.

"At least it's not crowded," I said, but Mom only sniffed.

The place wasn't huge or anything, and pretty typical with three department stores anchoring a big T-shaped building. A Sears at the bottom with J.C.Penney and Neiman's across from each other at the top. In between were about a hundred stores specialing in just about anything you can think of, but mostly clothes. A food court occupied the intersection with a large carousel in the center of it. That's why it was called Carousel Mall, I suppose.

We'd entered close to the Sears. "I'm going to check out the hardware department," Mom told me. "Where are you going?"

"Mmm ... I want to get that Eminem CD," I remembered. "I'll probably be at the arcade after that."

"Okay," she said, looking at her watch. "Meet me back here in forty-five minutes, alright?"

"Alright," I nodded. "Have fun, Mom."

"We'll see," she replied, smiling and giving me a small wave of her fingers.

Sometimes we hung out together, especially in the beginning, when I'd been brand new, but sometimes we split up. It kind of depended on what we wanted to do and how many people were around. I mean, if the mall was packed, we'd stay together because the chances were good that a couple guys would find us. But on a Wednesday night? The few guys we saw were walking around by themselves, and the other ones were with their wives, so we split up and put some distance between us.

That's like the number one rule, mothers and daughters don't compete with each other. I'm sure some of them do, but we didn't. It's not worth the trouble, you know?

"Hi," I said, smiling at a man sitting on one of the benches.

He smiled back, looking up from the newspaper he held, but I guess he was waiting for someone. Probably his wife, judging from the pile of plastic shopping bags next to him. I didn't hold it against the guy if he wasn't interested. For all I knew he might have just finished with a girl, because I wasn't the only one walking around. I saw Tricia, one of my classmates, standing near the Victoria's Secret store. I offered her a smile, but she was busy flirting with some guy holding an ice cream cone. When he offered her a lick, she reached for his crotch at the same time.

Some girls have all the luck.

Mine was all bad as a hunky guy passed me, returning my smile and turning his head. Definitely interested. I turned around, walking backwards with a giggle and hoping I didn't trip on my heels and break an ankle. His wife gave him an elbow to the ribs though and glanced at me with a sympathetic sort of smile. Like, "Better luck next time!" Except that wasn't it at all, I just liked to think about it that way.

I couldn't really blame her and wives are weird anyway. I didn't really get the concept. I mean, why would a man want someone telling him what to do all the time? Sure, wives are great for cooking and cleaning and stuff like that. I almost wished I could have a wife sometimes, like when Mom got on me about cleaning my room. Maybe it's a mental thing, like men and wives need each other even if they don't know why. All I knew was that I felt pretty darn happy I wasn't ever going to be a wife. That would suck!

But they probably thought the same thing about girls like me.

I grinned as I walked into Poppie's, the big music store that sold videos, t-shirts, and posters as well. They were playing "Pop Retard" on the sound system and that's exactly the CD I was looking for!

"You think you're a slut, but I know the type, you're just a 'tard, lookin' for some pipe!" I sang along, under my breath as I browsed the new releases.

Katy Perry sang the chorus, of course, whining about how she wasn't really retarded. "I have a special need, I'm not special, but I really have to breed, ohhh whoa oh won't you help me breed? I can't help it 'cause I really need to breed ... I really need to breed."

"Do you?" a guy asked, grinning as I looked over my shoulder.

"Hey there," I said, returning his smile and biting my bottom lip. "I just like the song. What are you doing?"

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Story tagged with:
Ma/ft / Consensual / Public Sex / Prostitution /