I follow her to the back portion of the shop, winding our way through the racks of clothes and displays. She stands to the side to let me pass and I feel her place her hand on my ass and then give it a sharp swat. Damn, people were doing that at Mr. R’s that weekend, too. I look back at her and she smiles.Near the back of the shop, outside the fitting rooms, is an area with mirrors. As we approach, John walks up holding several items and hangs a dress on a fitting room door and places a pair of strap heels on the floor below it. He looks at me and walks to me. Puts a hand on each of my hips, pulls me into him and kisses me, again. A real kiss. The kind of kiss a man and woman share when their every intent is that something more is about to happen. I open my mouth to take his tongue and I suck on it as he follows the opportunity. At the same time his hands slide up my sides to my breasts, they move inside between us and each takes a nipple between the thumb and forefinger and pinch. Martinez caught me staring, and she said with a dirty little smile, “It's not very nice to stare.” My face turned flaming red. “Oh, I am so sorry. I was looking at the apples.” I turned to load the last bag and I felt some fingers crawl up my back. She rubbed her hand down around my waist and said, “While you were watching my apples, I just happened to notice that you are a fine-looking young man.” Around the ‘hood, I remember some of my friends calling Ms. Martinez thunder thighs. I never understood why they called her that. But that night, the thunder underneath her small housedress was obvious. Her hand kept getting lower. She stepped closer to me and whispered in my ear, “I want to wrap my thighs around your hips and give you the fuck of your life.” My hormones were running a hundred miles an hour from the blue thong show. But her dirty whispers and sexy backstrokes caused a tent in my pants. She saw it too! She reached around and started stroking my cock through my pants. It.
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