Room For A Change

The other day I did something totally out of character. My boyfriend and I have been together several years, and I am very happy with him. (Apart from a couple of minor misdemeanours) I have always been faithful. But the other day, as we were out shopping the sales in town, I did something quite outrageous: I got fucked by a stranger while my boyfriend looked on!

We had wondered into an up-market department store, and were shopping around the ladies' section for some bits and pieces for my wardrobe. I don't know whether it was ambling round the lingerie department that got me feeling - without even being really aware of it - so horny - especially as I know how much my boyfriend loves all that stuff - or the heat or sunny weather, or what it was, but as I left him to try on a little black dress I had spied, at some level I must have been ready for something extraordinary, even if only unconsciously.

As I made my way into the changing rooms, I noticed the handsome man guarding the door. He had on a crisp white shirt and smart black suit, he had broad shoulders and a muscular build, brown hair not too long and not too short, and slightly chiselled jaw; not macho, but manly in the modern manner. He nodded politely as I bade to enter, waving the dress over my arm. The changing rooms were quite plush, bigger than usual but in the same basic style you find in most department stores, with soft thick carpet, three walls and a heavy curtain across the door. The back wall was mirrored, and against it a dark wooden bench to sit on as you got changed. I removed my clothes down to my underwear - a fine-mesh, floral-pattern bikini and bra set - and tried on the frock. It was posh and silky, pretty, but it didn't fit right as I'd hoped it too, so I slipped it from my shoulders and let it drop around my ankles.

Suddenly, as if by magic, there behind me in the mirror was materialised the handsome porter from the front of the dressing rooms. Somehow (miraculously) he had already whipped off his shirt, and was standing close behind me, taking my hips firmly with his two strong hands, and butting my buttocks against his steadily growing penis as it emerged from his unbuttoned trousers.

I was shocked; paralysed to tell the truth; but like I say, something latent in me was already ready for him. What look had I given him as I walked through the door? How had he read the thoughts even I was not aware of? Whatever magic was at work, however, was at work, and despite my slight but authentic reaction of guilt and surprise, the situation was somehow so erotic that there was no way on earth I was going to resist it. This was the moment to succumb to temptation if ever there was one, to let loose one's desire, and so I arched my back a little and said nothing, but pressed my hands against the glass of the mirror as he slid my panties down around my ankles where they caught themselves on the thin black straps of my glossy high-heeled shoes and just hung there, stretched between my smooth and parted legs.

I knew my boyfriend was still out there, probably waiting patiently for me right by the entrance to the changing rooms and holding my bags obediently, and perhaps even having seen the guy come in for whatever reason, but all these thoughts, though they should have dissuaded me, only heightened my pleasure.

And suddenly he was fucking me. I came to from my contemplations to find the porter sweeping his long, fat cock in and out of my burning pussy in deep methodical strokes. As he penetrated me he used his strong hands to guide my hips and buttocks backwards and forwards firmly. I groped back behind myself to slap and scratch at his pert tight buttocks, arching my back and leaning forward to better brace against the momentum of it, rubbing my tits against the glass of the mirror.

Then, just as we started the steep climb to climax, the curtain rolled back and there stood my boyfriend! He had come in to check on me, perhaps suspicious of the porter's intentions, and there he stood, agog, frozen in the doorway, bags in hand. I yanked him in roughly and dragged the curtain shut. My new partner never broke his stroke, and I was enjoying myself so much there was no way I was stopping just because my boyfriend had walked in. But I did fell kind of guilty, so I groped for his crotch and stammered something about putting his cock in my mouth as best as I could muster. He was too dumbfounded to really grasp what was happening, and before he was aware of it he was helping my scrambling fingers to wrench his bulging penis out of his trousers and slipping it into my hungry, panting mouth.

Now the sensation was incredible. As I bucked backwards I felt the porter's massive penis drive into me up to the hilt, and as it left me when I slid forward again my boyfriend's, slightly smaller, member slipped into my mouth. Eventually the fucking got too much for me and I arched upwards again closing my eyes and moaning in ecstasy. Not wanting to totally abandon my boyfriend, however, I grabbed vaguely for his penis again and tugged at it randomly. Even this was too much in a moment, however, and I had to abandon him as I reached a fervent climax, biting my lip to keep from screaming and trembling uncontrollably as the handsome stranger propped my body up with his legs and hands about my waste, literally hanging me off of his big cock to stop me collapsing. My boyfriend was left tugging away on his penis pathetically, and as my own orgasm slowly subsided I opened my eyes to catch him shooting his load up over my tits and belly.

As suddenly as he'd appeared, then, the porter was gone again, clothes and all, and my boyfriend and I were left alone together, dishevelled and somewhat distressed in the dressing room. My knickers were down about my ankles and there was spunk dripping from my breasts and belly, and running slowly down the inside of my thighs. My boyfriend stood still, dazed and silent, slowly tucking his limp dick back into his trousers as I told him to wait outside while I got cleaned up.

Outside on the shop floor the porter was standing by the entrance to the dressing rooms, innocuous and courteous as before, a professional smile faintly shaping his lips. My boyfriend was sitting vacantly on the waiting chairs. He didn't speak much on the way to the taxi rank, and in the cab on the way home he neither spurned nor accepted my affections, but merely sat blankly, staring forward as I cuddled up to him and tried to make it up to him without the words for the mad moment of pleasure I had spontaneously succumbed to in the department store changing room.