I Caught You Dirty Girl

February 15, 2008 – 10:00 am

So I’m in this department store looking for a birthday gift for my
girlfriend, Dee, when I notice in the power tool section a woman
who’s fine as frog’s hair.

This girl, as Lyle Lovett says, makes me think so fast I leave my
thoughts behind. She’s tall, maybe 5’9″, and draped in a short dress and
— feature this — cowboy boots.

Who cares what I’m wearing.

I move in for a closer look, but she’s headed out of the power tools and
into the men’s wear, so I follow at a distance. She picks up a cologne
sample and slips it into her purse, keeps moving. Next, naturally, on to
the women’s lingerie. As she’s moving through the racks, she glances
around and slips a pair of panties into her purse, then heads for the
dressing room. This is too much, and my mind is racing over the
possibilities. I stand near the dressing room entrance, hold my breath
for 30 seconds, and slip in. A light perspiration breaks out across my
forehead, I can’t believe what I’m doing, and I push open her dressing
room door. She looks up, gasps, I move into the stall and quickly shut
the door behind me. No time to waste and no room to fuck up, I say,
“Mall security, ma’am,” and quickly flash my Waldenbooks Frequent
Readers Card. “We prosecute shoplifters. Turn around.”

“But, but, but,” she’s stammering, I’m thinking this is whacked, what am
I doing, and say sternly “I said turn around!”

She faces the wall and I have a moment to catch my breath, keep my head
from spinning, and survey the scene. Okay, okay, stop sweating and stay
calm. This girl’s brown hair is shaking a bit, she’s trembling, and her
golden shoulders are tensed. My eye carries down the ridge of her spine
to a sweet round ass and shapely legs. I revise her height estimate up
to 5’10”. I haven’t had the best look at her face, but from the glimpse
I’ve seen she’s a beauty, a bit of the Teri Hatcher type. The flowery
dress is hanging on a peg, and all she’s wearing is a blue satin bra,
her cowboy boots, and the stolen panties. She’s obviously picked a size
too small, because her ass is spilling out around the blue fabric.
Enough looking, if I don’t keep this thing moving the spell will break
and she might wise up and shout.

“Hands against the wall, Miss, now.” She hesitates, but after another
“NOW” she puts her hands up against the wall of the dressing room. She’s
shaking and stammering something, I lean in closer and hear her
whispering “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

“All right, miss, that’s enough. I’ll do the talking. You stole those
panties didn’t you?” She nods, whispers yes. I say “We’ll need to retain
those panties for evidence,” and she tentatively brings her hands down
to remove them. “Hands on the wall!” I yell, and she quickly obeys. “You
might be carrying a concealed weapon. I’ll need to remove them myself.”
She tenses up, as I lean forward, and think — what the fuck am I doing?
This is the sort of behavior that lands your ass in jail, brother. But I
push those thoughts aside and place my thumbs under the strap of her
panties and slowly peel them down, only an inch. I lean close to her
ear, and whisper, “You know you can go to jail for this sort of thing”
— hey, if I’m freaked out she should be too. She gulps, and actually
says, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’ll do anything you say.”

I pull the panties down over the swell of her ass, and only with
superhuman effort restrain myself from licking a cheek while I pull them
past thighs, calves, and boots. “Step out of them,” I say. She gingerly
lifts one booted foot, then another, and from this angle I notice just
how big and sweet her ass is compared to the rest of her body. I slip
the panties into my pocket, stand up, and say, “That bra may be stolen
too, it should come off.” I reach around, fumble with the clasp between
her breasts, and release them from the confines of the satin. Now she’s
naked except for the cowboy boots, and she’s not coming out of those if
I have anything to say about it.

I’m surprised it’s gone this far, and can’t think of what to say next.
There’s an awkward silence while I look blankly at her beautiful back,
and after a moment she looks over her shoulder at me and asks, “Were you
going to search me?” This is almost too easy and I briefly wonder how
many people she’s fucking.

“Hush,” I say, “I’ll do the talking. What’s your name?” She mumbles
something that sounds like “vomit,” and I say “what?!” She speaks up a
bit, “Charlotte.”

“All right, Charlotte,” I tell her, “spread your legs.” She does,
awkwardly, and I reach my hands around to hold the fullness of her
breasts in my hands. She gasps, and I squeeze them gently. I slowly let
me finger tips drift over her stomach, her thighs, and the cheeks of her
ass. “Sit down Charlotte,” and I motion her to the dressing room bench. She
sits, and I get my first good look at her face. She’s breathtaking: big
brown eyes, creamy skin, and pillowy lips. She’s looking up at me
expectantly and I know that no matter what, I have to ball this woman.

“What should we do with you, Charlotte?” I say.

She looks down at the floor, hesitates, mumbles, “I don’t want to go to
jail.” (Me neither, I’m thinking).

I scratch my chin, pull a face, and say, “Maybe we can keep you out of
jail. How much are you willing to cooperate?” As I say this I sit down
on the bench next to her, close enough to smell her nervousness. “What
should we do here to keep you out of jail?” I ask, softening my tone.

“Are you going to punish me?” she says softly, looking away. “Tell me
what to do. I’ll do… what you say.”

“I don’t know Charlotte,” I say. “What do you think I should do about
this?”

Charlotte shrugs, but I reach up and hold her chin, look her in the eye,
and say, “I think you need to take this seriously, Charlotte — and that
means being part of the solution.”

“Can’t you just make the decision,” she says. “I don’t want to right
now. I’d rather not.”

“I am making the decisions Charlotte, but I need to see that you understand
the meaning of what you did,” I say. I know, I know, pretty weak, but
I’m still nervous that things could go wrong and I’m buying time to
think.

“Well, I guess,” she mumbles, “I guess it’s all about me taking the
panties. So maybe I need to be punished for that.” She looks at me, our
eyes meet.

“That’s right Charlotte. Since the panties covered your bottom, maybe
that’s where we should begin,” I say. “Bend over my lap, Charlotte.”

She tenses up, “Why?”

“Just do as I say, Charlotte.”

“What are you going to do?”

After a long look, I pull her across my lap. She tries to twist, but
strength is on my side, and I position her face down across my lap. She
struggles a bit and attempts to reach back, but has no purchase. The
toes of her boots are just off the floor on my right; her small waist
and golden round bottom struggle before me. I can feel her breathing, in
and out, and I can feel the heat from her body as she tries to gain
control. I wait her out, and after a time she quiets down. Her bottom is
soft, round, and very vulnerable. Finally, she waits, supine on my lap.

“Spread your legs, Charlotte.” She hesitates, and I smack her lightly on
the ass. She complies by moving her legs slightly. I spread my hands
across her bottom and caress her roundness, feeling the softness and
texture of her prime ass. I shift her a little until her bottom is
centered over my knees. She struggles again. “Is this how you obey me?”
I ask. “Spread you bottom Charlotte; I want to see it all. Use your hands.”

After a pause she reaches back and pulls her cheeks just a little. I
give her ass a sharp stinging slap on one cheek. “Owwww!” she cries,
“That hurts!” She begins to struggle again, and I hold her to me,
waiting her out. “Spread your bottom, Charlotte, do it now.”

After another moment, she reaches back and pulls her cheeks much farther
apart. “There, can you see everything now?” she says, with attitude.

“Yes, that’s fine, Charlotte. Just keep holding yourself open.” I can see
the small, tight rosebud between her golden cheeks, with its tiny folds
narrowing in the center, and below it the moist crease of her pussy.
Damn this girl is perfect. “Very well, Charlotte. You can take her hands
away.”

“About time,” she says. Her upturned ass is relaxed — soft and round.
But when her hands go down, I spank her, hard. She cries out in surprise
and tries to cover herself with her hands, but I grab her wrists and
held them together at the small of her back. “You — SLAP — will —
SLAP — do — SLAP — as — SLAP — I — SLAP — say!” Her bottom
jiggles helplessly as she cries out, taking the blows, her heels kicking
in the air. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobs, her bottom quivering,
“I’ll do as you say!”

I let go of her wrists and, after a moment, gently spread her bottom as
she whimpers to herself. Carefully holding her cheeks apart, I suck on
my middle finger and gently touch the center.

“Oh God — not my ass… Please not my ass!” She flinches, and tries to
clench her cheeks together, but she doesn’t have the strength. I slap
her again, hard, and push against the dark rosebud between her cheeks.
She twitches and squirms, trying to evade my probing finger, and I
quickly spank her again, slapping her sweet wide upturned ass with my
open hand.

“Hold still, Charlotte, we’re not finished.”

“Is that it?” she asks, with attitude, “Is it my ass you want?” She
turns her head and looks backs at me. Her face is angry and streaked
with tears.

“Of course, Charlotte,” I say, as I think to myself — what the fuck else
would Assmaster McStuff want? — “Now hold still.” I reach for her
purse on the ground and open it up, hoping to find… bingo! A bottle of
lotion rolls out and I twist the cap off, applying lotion to my fingers.
Spreading her cheeks with the fingers of my left hand, I take a bit more
lotion and daub it around the center. She flinches at the first cold
taste of it, but then — since there’s nothing she can do about it —
quiets down as I lightly stroke. Her asshole is darker than the
surrounding skin, and tight, so tight — a little kitten’s mouth. I
massage the opening gently, feeling the texture and the tender softness
of her opening. At first she is completely closed — clenched tight
against my gentle invasion, but I continue to massage the center with my
fingertip, occasionally adding a drop or two of lotion as lubricant.

After awhile, Charlotte begins to let go — out of fatigue if nothing else
— and I press into her just a tiny bit. As soon as I feel her opening
to my finger, I start stroking her back with my other hand, caressing
her gently, smoothly.

“That’s right,” I whisper, “such a good girl Charlotte.” Gently stroking,
soothing, and all the time pressing slowly but firmly into her fleshy
bottom. I continue for a few moments and then push firmly into her ass
— steady and deep, right up into her. Charlotte arches her back, and
clutches to my legs, crying out, “Oh my dear Jesus God… My ass —
you’re… in.. my… ass!” — and clamps my finger like a warm wet vise
as her tight squirmy bottom tries to refuse me. She trembles and holds
onto the bench as I hold her to me, slowly sinking my finger down into
her cheeks until I’m buried two or three inches into her — her tight
ring of muscle twitching spastically around my finger.

After she quiets down again and becomes somewhat used to my finger up
her ass, I probe deeper, moving in and out as she starts to pant a bit.
“Oh my ass… my poor bottom… what are you doing to me?” she cries. I
push back into her with more lotion, this time with two fingers. She has
to open completely — I want her bottom to accept me as a natural fact.
Her face is tense and streaked with tears, but they will dry. She has a
little control left, but she needs to lose it all.

I reach around her waist with my other hand and begin to explore the
soft flesh of her tummy… and lower, the firm naked mound between her
legs. I find her little button and run a finger up and down the entrance
to her pussy. I slide a finger into her sex, lean down and kiss her
cheek.

She pants again, and says, “You’re making me… hot.” I can feel her
muscles tighten and close around my fingers. She is very slippery, front
and rear. I lean down and whisper in her ear: “Do you know what I’m
going to do to you Charlotte?”

“Do you want to fuck me… in the ass?” She looks back at me from the
corner of her eyes and clamps down hard on my fingers, which are still
deep within her. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you…” she whispers, “I
think maybe you really like my ass. All men like my ass.”

This girl is speaking truth and I am rock hard to hear it. She pushes
back with her ass against my hand and shoves my fingers up in her as far
as they will go, groaning as her eyes close halfway and her body jerks.
She looks at me with half-closed eyes, whispering, “That’s how I want
you to put it up inside me. Like that. Only not your finger; I want to
feel the thickness of your cock, hard and slippery inside me. I want to
feel the head of it pushing me open for the rest to follow. I hope you
have a big dick.”

“That’s it Charlotte,” I say, “You can show me how sorry you are by taking
it all. Now stand up.” She does, and I stand with her. We face each
other and I kiss her on the mouth, running my hands over her breasts and
stomach. “Now Charlotte, turn around and put your hands on the bench,
that’s it.” She does, and I just have to pause to admire the scene. A
fit girl in goofy cowboy boots, standing straight legged and bent at the
waist, hair hanging in a beautiful face, supported by fit legs, smooth
skin, and a big soft round edible ass just waiting to be sucked and
spread open. I kneel behind her, spread her cheeks with my hand, and
lick around the rim of her asshole. All resistance is gone as she leans
back into my face and my tongue slips into her ass. This only goes on
for a minute or so, because I suddenly remember that we’re in a dressing
room and we need to get this show on the road before we get caught.

Plus I can’t wait to bust her ass.

I stand up, unzip my trousers, and place my hands on her bottom. It is
wide and soft and glorious, and I have to get into it now. “Charlotte,
spread your cheeks.” She reaches back, still bent over, and without much
coaching opens her ass to again expose her dark asshole to my eyes.
Taking the lotion again, I drip some onto my fingers, smearing the fluid
over the head of my penis and up the shaft. I touch her rosebud with a
fingerful of lotion and gently push in. At first her ring contracts, and
then relaxes. Withdrawing my finger, her rosebud is left slightly
dilated and I reposition move my cock until it rests heavily at the
softened opening of her bottom. Charlotte takes a breath as I grip the
cheeks of her ass with my hands.

I press at her hole, focusing the weight of my body into a single point
at the tip of my cock. She’s slippery and tight, but as I push just a
bit I can feel a softness — a weakness I hadn’t felt before. My cock is
a slick, fat padded stick about to violate her. “Charlotte, open your
cheeks more for me.” She does, and takes another deep breath.

“Relax Charlotte. Can you feel my cock?”

“Yes,” she says, in a tight voice, “I can feel you.”

“Am I in the right place?”

She lets out her breath. “Yes… you’re pushing right on my — my
bottom.”

“On your what?”

“On my asshole.”

“How does it feel Charlotte?”

“BIG.”

“I want you to open yourself to me Charlotte. Unclench your muscle.” Her
asshole is hard to enter, and my cock slips away. I take myself in hand,
and press against her opening again. She whimpers, stiff with tension. I
press my hips forward firmly and hold her, forcing the head of my cock
against her ring and — POP — she cries out as I enter.

“Oh Jesus God my poor bottom… you’re in me!” she cries as her tight,
squirmy ass clamps down on my cock. I press, press, press and my cock
slowly slides into her ass until I’m halfway in, buried between her
golden cheeks. “Oh god I can’t do this it feels like I have to…” she
cries as her asshole twitches spastically around my thickness. A tear or
two traces down from the corner of her eyes as I press again.

“Let go, Charlotte,” I say. “Relax your bottom. Open yourself to me like a
flower.” It’s all I can do not to shoot a load up her ass right away. I
probe deeper as she quietly gives in to me, slowly moving my cock in and
out as she pants and begins to relax. I watch in fascination as my cock
disappears up her dark asshole. When I slowly pull back out, the ring of
her ass hugs my cock and stretches out, a hostess reluctant to let a
dinner guest depart. I notice that she’s becoming aroused again. Her
nipples are erect, her face flushed and sweaty.

I press forward again and that’s it — her ass is impaled and her
sphincter twitches around the base of my cock. She’s weeping a little,
and her pussy is slick with juice. She doesn’t know how to feel about
this humiliation — a first class buttfucking in a semi-public venue if
ever there were one — but she’s getting into it regardless. Suffice it
to say that this woman had no idea what she was getting into when she
stole the panties. I’m still moving with the slowest strokes possible,
when she whispers, “Yes, please yes — do it to me… Fuck my bottom.”

“Fuck your what?”

“Fuck my ass. Please buttfuck me. Please do it.” I’m a sucker for trash
talk from a woman, and I press again. She offers herself up to me and I
lower my hips until I’m pressed against the cheeks of her ass, then
pull out, press in, pull out, a bit faster, a bit harder. Her ass is a
soft pillow for hungry hips to come home to. Her opening is like a ring
sliding up the length of my cock and she groans, warm and tight. “Go
ahead, push it…. push it” she say thickly, “fuck my ass… fuck my
pretty ass.”

I kiss her on the neck as I begin to stroke harder and harder. “I want
your cock all the way up my ass” she says as she puts her hands back on
the bench to steady herself. What the hell, I think, and I start banging
away on her asshole. “Oww! Oww! Oww!” and she reaches a hand between her
legs to rub her pussy as I fuck her ass for all I’m worth. She starts
shouting “I want your fucking cock — fuck me in the fucking ass with
all of your fucking cock!” A wave of lust and fulfillment rises in me
and I’m very close. Her bottom spastically grips the base of my cock and
milks it. She’s chanting, it’s a rhythm now, “fuck me… fuck me… fuck
my ass… fuck me deep” and she presses back into my cock as I lurch
forward, spearing her dark sweetness with my entire length and I think I
can hear someone knocking on the door but no matter because she says the
magic words: FUCK IT LIKE YOU OWN IT and I am there and it comes pumping
from my balls up the shaft and spews violently past the ring of her
asshole into her body, spastically filling her soft upturned ass with my
thickness, pouring myself up into her wet sweet golden bottom while she
weeps and shakes and cries yes…

“Excuse me. Will you be making a purchase?” I hear a voice outside the
dressing room door say as we begin to catch our breath. “Yes,” I say,
“but we’ll need a few more minutes to make up our minds…” and we are
both sweating and shaking and she leans forward onto the bench, her ass
still in the air as I pull my softening cock out of her. Her distended
asshole takes a moment to close, and I pat her lightly on the cheek.

“Well,” I say, “it appears we’ve rehabilitated you Charlotte. Although if
you persist in shoplifting I’d encourage you to do it in MY store.” She
giggles, panting, resting her head on the bench.

“What about the panties?” she says, and I think — yeah, what about
those fucking panties? I can’t walk out with them in my pocket; they’re
stolen. And they sure can’t go back on the rack.

“Charlotte, we’re just going to have to conceal the evidence,” I say, and
pull the panties out of my pocket before wadding them tightly into a
ball. Her asshole is still loose, slicked with lotion, and my cum is
beginning to leak out of it. “Think of this as your own personal pocket,
Charlotte,” I say. “Open your cheeks for me once more.” Amazingly, even
though she gasps “no” she places her hands, one on each cheek, and
spreads herself to reveal her asshole to me for the last time. I press
the balled panties against her hole and can’t believe she’s actually
letting me do this, but after a moment’s resistance her asshole gives
way and the satin starts to disappear into her. I enjoy the sight of
this woman, naked but for her cowboy boots and an absurd blue tail, and
I leave just a bit of the satin sticking out of her ass.

She stands, blushing, and begins to reach behind her for the panties but
I gently reach for her hand and say one word: “No.” She is beautiful:
face flushed and sweating, breasts made for kissing, a flat, fit
stomach, and a chunky, satin-plugged, cum-filled ass. I hand her the bra
and the dress. “I’ll be going now,” I say, and softly kiss her on the
mouth.

“Wait, will I see you again?” she says.

I think about it for a moment, and tell her I don’t think so, because
her sentence has been reduced on account of good behavior. She smiles,
and says, “But what about probation?” She whispers her phone number to
me, we kiss once more, and I slide out of the dressing room.

And I wonder as I walk out of the lingerie department, past the scowling
clerk and past a real store security officer and past the gray-haired
shoppers, charge cards in hand: how many people on the street are as
sick as I am? Who on the street — seeing Charlotte and the awkward walk
she will have for the next few hours — who would suspect that her ass
had been as thoroughly fucked as an ass can be? By a stranger? And that
she now, for the next hour or two at any rate, wore a satin tail as a
badge of the encounter?

I wonder.