On the way to my next stop, I had time to consider what was happening. I was sitting blindfolded in Jim's SUV, wearing a crotchless fishnet stocking/garter belt one piece set and no underwear. I was about to be handed over to a man I had never met to buy me an unknown piece of apparel, for which I would give him a blow job immediately afterward, after which he would pass me on to Jim's next friend.
On the one hand, this was the most thrilling sexual adventure on which I had set out, but was it too much? Being exposed in the adult boutique had been a blast, but incredibly dangerous. What if someone I knew had walked in? What if the staff had decided we were perverts and called the cops? And didn't they have cameras in the store to catch shoplifters? What else had they caught? Was I committing the cardinal sin of letting the little head do the thinking?
We hit a bump in the road and I was reminded of the presence of the butt plug, that Jim had also bought and made me insert at the store. I was still blindfolded, so I had no idea where we were. As if reading my mind, Jim placed his hand on my thigh.
"How are you doing, Soma? Everything OK?"
"I think so, Sir. It just seems like so much is happening so quickly. Is it really a good idea to be out in the open like this? What if we get caught?"
Jim laughed. "If we get caught, it's clear you're the innocent victim of a vicious gang of sex traffickers with incredibly bad taste in victims." I had to join him in laughing. Still...
"I know you're nervous about this, Soma. You're afraid of what might happen. But hasn't been your life story? You start to explore who you are in earnest and chicken out when things get the least bit risky?"
"I wouldn't say I'm chickening out, Sir. I just happen to be extremely risk averse."
"You mean happiness averse. You'll never fully understand your desires, your needs, who you really are, until you're willing to take that step into the Abyss. And that's what I'm doing for you, Soma: holding your hand and taking the plunge with you.
"I and my friends have the same risks: most of us are married, all of us are professionals and we have much to lose if we're exposed. However, we consider the rewards, not just of the pleasures we're going to enjoy with you, but of satisfying our own needs, to outweigh the risks. At some point, everyone has to make a choice: take a risk or live with regret the rest of your life. You've made that choice; now, enjoy it.
"And here we are: your next stop. There's Pete. Unbuckle, put your shoes on and wait here until I get you. Keep the blindfold on."
I heard the door open, felt the cold breeze, then warmth again. I reached down and slipped on my shoes, Jim's words sinking into my mind. He had given me much to think about, but no time to contemplate...
...my door opened, and I shivered with the cold. A hand took mine and guided me out of the car. It pulled off my blindfold and I saw Pete, wearing jeans and a polo shirt under his windbreaker. He was at least six feet tall and clearly worked out. His thin mustache should have been a turn off (I don't like facial hair on men, or women, for that matter), but it wasn't. Neither was the shaved head. What drew me were his blue eyes, which viewed me with amusement.
"So this is Soma. I hope he's as good a cocksucker as you say, Jim."
"I do my best, Sir," I replied, trying to let him know I could speak for myself.
"I'm sure you do. And who knows? It might even be good enough. Let's go shopping."
Jim turned to me. "Pete's a good guy. He just likes to mess with people's heads. You be good and remember what I told you and you'll have a great time. Take good care of him, Pete."
"Oh, I'll take good care of him. I hope he keeps that cock under control."
I glanced down and saw that it had escaped its garter prison and was threatening to proclaim its presence to all who looked. I turned so I was facing Jim's SUV, reached into my pants and maneuvered it back under the garter strap. I heard both men laughing. Not for the first time, I regretted wearing a jacket that stopped just below my waist. This was going to be an interesting experience.
We had arrived at the WalMart where I had met Jim. Pete and I started walking toward the store, him in front and me following closely behind, feeling the plug with every step. I heard Jim's car starting and pulling out of the parking lot, taking my backpack with him. I was well and fully in their power. That knowledge, and the ever present fullness in my ass made keeping my cock under control that much more difficult, as did the feeling of khakis rubbing about fishnets.
We entered the store and passed the ubiquitous greeter in the blue vest. Pete knew where he was going and picked up the pace. I had to take longer steps to keep up with him. This was the part I dreaded: I knew that the butt plug was firmly in place, but, with each step, I could feel it getting ready to fall out onto the floor and show those around what sort of pervert I was. But it was too late to back out: I was committed.
Pete stopped in the women's lingerie department and waited for me to catch up. He was in the panties section. This WalMart was like all the others: the lingerie department was in the middle of the store, next to the shoe department and completely open. At least there were no changing rooms; I wouldn't have to face that again. The panties were on two long racks between bras and socks, sorted by size. A Latina matron was thumbing through the panties on the large side. Pete was on the other side.
"So, Soma, what size panty do you wear?"
He spoke in a normal conversational tone that had me blushing, especially when I saw the woman on the other side look up and give me a frown, before returning to her browsing. I walked closer to Pete and spoke softly.
"I think between an 8 and a 9."
Pete did not believe in speaking softly. "How do you know your panty size?"
