Trying on clothes in the dressing room...

Trying on clothes in the dressing room of Ralph Lauren, Ivo took off his slacks. Looking in the 3-way mirror he realized he was hard. Could it be the lovely Cuban salesgirl who brushed up against him in the sales aisle? Could it be the hot balmy afternoon that made his clothes heavy and the back of his neck moist? Can't Ralph Lauren afford an air conditioner? Or maybe it was the theme song from Dr. Zhivago filling the store. The thought of Julie Christie never failed to arouse him. In any case he stood hеlpless and hard, his boxer shorts protruding like a pup tеnt. He felt like buying a new pair of chinos but for some reason he ended up in the dressing room with everything but. Linen jackets, denim shirts and a wonderful leather belt. he took his time unbuttoning his shirt. Staring into the mirror he caught himself smiling. Suddenly, the Cuban salesgirl was near the dressing room, calling to him. "Do you need any help?" it seemed like a trick question. Her voice was deep and throaty like something was caught in it. "Oh dear," Ivo said to himself. He was tempted to answer the question in a most lascivious manner, but instead he said, "The shirts are awfully big. I'd like to try a size 38." Off she went on a hunt, leaving a trail of Giorgio behind her. Cheap perfume always aroused him. He believed that cheap cologne smelled luxurious on people with dark skin. Ivo had lost all interest in trying on clothes. Standing in his boxer shorts, he found himself dizzy from the humidity and the lurid scent. So he sat down and considered masturbating while watching himself in the mirror. maybe he could do it before the salesgirl came back. She didn't seem to be in a hurry. The idea of her walking in as he ejaculated made him even harder. He stared at the belt he had chosen, lying on the floor. He liked it but he didn't want to buy it. Belts reminded him of his father. Suddenly her voice was at the door again. "I have your size 38. Are you decent?" "Oh if only you knew," he said to himself. Without thinking he told her to come in. She opened the door nervously and, seeing him sitting there flushed and dreamy, she tried to avoid looking in his eyes or below his waist. "It's very hot in here, I wish they'd fix the air conditioner." Her words hung in the air. He didn't respond. He just sat there staring at her. She didn't move but clutched the size 38 to her breast. Ivo could hear her breathing. He noticed she was wearing an ankle bracelet with little red stones that must have been glass. Her perfect brown toes peeked out of her sandals. He wanted to lick them. "Aren't you feeling well?" she asked. "I think the heat is getting to me," he lied. "Put your hand on my forehead and tell me if I have a fever." She stepped forward, balling the crisp shirt up in one hand, and reaching out to his forehead with the other. She touched his skin slightly and felt a definite heat but couldn't tell who it belonged to. Her hand moved without instruction, first to cheek. Then his neck, to report on the temperature there. "It's hard to tell, 'cause it's so hot in this place but I think you're normal." "Oh..." He sounded disappointed. "I hope not," he prayed to himself. He stared at her fly for a long time. Then slowly he reached out and touched the Y formed by her legs and crotch. She didn't flinch but stood there crushing the shirt into a tight ball. He pushed his finger in and out of the Y and felt moisture there. Without warning she dropped to her knees, letting the shirt fall from her hands. Her face came to rest on his lap and he stroked her cheek. she wore no makeup and her head was beautifully shaped. She had the most magnificent mouth and it's proximity to his erection tormented him. As if she were reading his mind, her hand went into the leg of his shorts, found his cock, and slid it through his open fly into her mouth. He watched her suck. Her nostrils flared as her lips pulled on him, sending him far away. Shopping never felt so good. He noticed the door was open a crack but he made no move to close it. He was transfixed by this dark haired Loita, who worked on him effortlessly, so innocently; he had no reason to mistrust her. Looking up at him with her lazy brown eyes, she made him feel drunk. She held the base of his cock with one hand and his balls with the other, and through the strains of "Lara's Theme" he heard little sucking sounds. Sometimes he played with her hair and sometimes he used his hands to guide her mouth on him. Her mouth . . . her mouth was genius. She knew what she was doing and she did it. Ivo caught himself in the mirror and noticed how his face glistened with sweat. "You're beautiful," he said out loud, not quite sure how he was talking to. Suddenly he felt as if he would explode. He threw his head back and moaned "Oh yes, you are so beautiful," as his blood rushed to the base of his spine. He heard his own heart pounding in his ears. His hands massaged the back of her neck as she sucked faster and faster and faster. The dam broke. And his come shot out of him in spasms, in beautiful wrenching spasms. She did not swallow it, but, half smiling, she let it run out of her mouth like a child spilling milk. "Lourdes, where are you? I need you to help some customers." A stern matronly voice came out of nowhere. She jumped up and wiped her mouth with the size 38. "You'll have to buy the shirt now. I have to get back to work." "Is your name Lourdes?" he asked. "Yes, but my friends call me Luli." She straightened herself and checked her face in the mirror, perfectly content with what she saw. He saw she was simple and envied her. He wanted to know her. He wanted to buy her a hot dog or a big soft pretzel. "Can I take you to lunch?" he asked. "Oh, you don't owe me anything," she replied. "Besides I have a boyfriend." With that she turned and was gone, yelling over her shoulder, "You can pay up front."