Flashes of Pink

We don’t get to the mall very often, not together, without the kids. Lacking nearby family, usable family, we’re dropping the kids off family, Diana and I only escape our juvenile wards on rare occasions. We celebrate the coming of the sitter. We gratefully pay the parent tax.

Unbridled, my filly and I like to frolic in the fields. Diana laughs sweetly, teasingly, melodically jazzing us on the route between circumstances, endlessly orbiting our invisible nucleus with the electric synchronicity of a free roaming couple, our footsteps echoing the careless enthusiasm we knew before kids, in a shadowy life of vague glad memories, a paradise long ago surrendered to serious adulthood.

Like the midsummer with lovers, Diana and I play together. Twisted by our self perpetuating restraint, we transformed a short jaunt to our local mall into a few hours of tight-wire teasing, through bolted damasks, of silk and satin luxury, constantly attended by denizens of beauty..

It was a Friday when school did not meet for our kids and their sitters. I lay across our leafy-green bed, watching as Diana emerged with billowing clouds of steam, out from the shower, her smooth skin shining wintry white with an undertone of warmed pink. The sitter, our sitter, the angel of relief, had been scheduled to arrive very shortly, so I subdued my lusty appetite while watching Diana dress. The morning sun illuminated our bedroom window in bold splashes of light, shooting a long bright line fiery over Diana’s snowy hips, sparking glitters of gold in the fine lacework of her bare bush. Diana slipped on a tan skirt and a stiff cotton white blouse. She turned on the hair dryer. I checked the kids.

I retrieved the batteries and packed my video camera into a black shoulder bag. I found a fresh tape in my dresser drawer. Diana bought me the camera for my birthday. We wore out our first one.

It was another birthday when Diana and I managed to sneak away for a night at a nearby resort. We drove through the foothills and forests of a Virginia autumn until we reached a Germanic home in a cozy valley. Upon arriving, Diana bounced at once onto our small bed. Her lean legs stretched across the faded comforter. Diana smiled at me as she lifted her thin skirt and boldly exposed the sweet pink pucker below her blonde snatch. We had driven a score of miles, but only with the flash had I realized Diana’s rode pantiless.

The ride to the shopping mall was of a different order. I knew at once that Diana had neglected to include undergarments in her outfit, for as we pulled out of the driveway, Diana put a foot up on the dashboard and let the sunlight glitter off her juicy cunt lips. I shifted the fit of my slacks as Diana tickled her muff when we merged onto the highway. Since the beginning, Diana has teased me with her naked pussy, exposing me to the hypnotic kiss of her tiny lips, casually spread before a quick finger tickles her subtle clit. She sports a pretty cunt.

We pulled into the parking garage. Diana grabbed a quick kiss and opened the passenger door. I collected myself and stumbled out of the driver’s seat. Diana sat on the red hood of my car, her heel perched on the bumper as she fought the leather bindings. I stepped around the car and caught a shadowy glimpse of Diana’s musky folds, hidden only by the darkness of the dank garage.

“Feeling frisky?” I asked, grinning broadly. Diana licked her finger with a smile and tickled her clit, lifting her bottom off the car and pushing her pussy toward me.

“I have some ideas,” she said, standing up and pulling her tan skirt back down across her hips. Diana came over and took my arm, leading me into the mall. “You’ve always been a good shopper.”

We entered one of the large department stores. Very few customers fondled the merchandise, and the handful of clerks folded shirts while they gabbed. Diana dove into a discount area thickly populated with under priced overstocked racks. I followed, a cautious explorer bent on staying close to my squad leader, surrendering my will to the snug press of cotton skirts, denim shorts and bulging soft blouses. Diana stopped in the sea of cloth and with a flip, she lifted her skirt. I stared, dumbfounded. Diana’s ass rocks, a firm bulb of a backside curve, like a dollop of creamy nougat nestled among the dense stripes of cotton and polyester. I reached out to take a squeeze but she slipped away, her pretty moon vanishing between red and grey down jackets. I followed close behind, but Diana gaily led the way at a rapid pace. We dashed from the department store and into the sunlit hallways of the mall.

“Wait,” Diana said, throwing herself against the balcony rail. “Let me look.”

Leaning, Diana’s skirt floated up her leg’s back as she bent lower to survey each floor below. I took a seat on the bench behind my lovely wife and watched as the murmur of her sultry pink lips gave me a glimpse between her lean thighs. Diana settled on a course. We rode the escalator down a flight. I caressed her skirted bottom as we waited for the stairs to descend.

Striding into the Shoe Gallery, Diana picked up a black pump and handed it to a tall young man in a suit.

“Sevens, if you please,” she said to the awkward fellow as I walked up behind her. He went behind a door curtain, carrying the proffered shoe for guidance. Diana turned to me. “I love to do this. Watch. This guy will lose it.” I picked up a pair of boots and wandered the shelves. Diana settled herself in a beige vinyl seat. Her legs pressed firmly together, the hem of her skirt extended to mid thigh, Diana slipped off her shoes.

The young man, a strong youth with a wave of brown hair and a wrinkled blue shirt carried three boxes. He pulled the small fitters stool over toward Diana and placed the boxes on the carpet.

“We have six and a half, seven and a half, or a seven in blue.” I inspected the sole of an Italian shoe as I watched Diana place her dainty foot in the salesman’s hand. He didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as he placed the first pair of pumps on her feet. Diana strutted to the mirror, watching the shoes, feeling them caress her heel, turning her toes elegantly.

“What do you think?” she asked of no one in particular. I started to answer, and Diana turned a quick circle, flashing just a hint of her fleshy behind.

Diana returned to her seat and propped a foot on the stool. Eight feet away, I could smell the sweet tang of Diana’s little pussy. The merchant’s eyes fixed their gaze into the shadows beneath her skirt as he fumbled to remove her shoes.

“A little too tight,” Diana said as the shoe came off with a jerk. “You’ll have to fit me better than that.” I wandered past a table of athletic shoes, to get a better view of the show. Diana’s knee drifted from side to side, exposing and hiding in a hypnotic fashion the tiny pink butterfly of her labia as the young man worked to remove the second pair of shoes from their box. He dropped the shoes, flustered.

The store was empty, except for Diana, Tim the lucky shoe guy and me. I read his name on his tag. After a great struggle of concentration, Tim managed to latch the leather strap across the second shoe. Diana sprang from the seat to witness the shoe in action. She turned and twisted in front of the mirror. Diana bent down to pull at the heel. Tim gasped.

“Nope, nope, nope,” said Diana, walking back to the vinyl seat and pulling off the shoe. “These won’t do at all.” She took off the other shoe, oblivious to Tim’s paralysis, his mouth open, his eyes wide. She paused, her pussy slightly spread, holding the pump up for us both to see. “A seven would have been perfect.” Diana picked up her purse, pulled down her skirt and nodded me out the door.

“Blue,” said Tim, reaching awkwardly for the spilled boxes.

“I don’t need blue,” said Diana and we were back in the mall.

Diana quickly led me into a lingerie store, with racks of lace, satins, silks and the stench of floral femininity. I followed obediently as we meandered past nighties clearly scandalously nude, shorts that melted on flesh, forceful brassieres to fetch the breast forth, tiny blue panties which could only hint at clothing.

Diana grabbed a pink chemise and darted into the fitting room. I walked a cautious circle as a half dozen women eyed me hungrily. A tall amazon lifted a pair of tiger panties, a tiny scrap which seemed to strip her tight skirt off as I imagined the way they would hug her broad hips.

An oriental woman rushed past me with a satin nightgown. Her friend giggled wildly behind. I continued my circle. Two heartbeats later, she had stripped off her clothes and draped herself in the shimmering nudity of her tight sheer gown. She danced out of the dressing room, writhing with delight, blushing as she saw me stare and showing me the bump of her grind. Her friend giggled.

Diana’s door opened and the dancing girl vanished with a leap into her dressing room again. I laughed as Diana began to bounce her faintly shrouded charms, teasing my attention. I had always liked shopping. Diana dressed and we carried on.

Diana lifted a skirt aloft when we traveled the dim paths of discounted goods in the thick racks of the department store. I followed cautiously, anxious to catch another flash when the time arose. Diana slipped into a dressing room. I took a seat, a few feet outside.

Diana stepped out, wearing the new skirt.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Looks good,” I said, lifting up my camera to catch a picture. Diana looked around. There was no one. Diana unzipped the skirt and let it fall to the carpet. The faint lips of her pussy grew swollen beneath her pale muff. Diana teased herself with a finger, lifting a foot onto a chair to spread her damp furrow. Bending over vibrantly, Diana picked up the skirt and told me to follow. Camera running, I obeyed.

Diana sat on the broad bench in the fitting room, spreading her pussy with a vulgar intensity. I closed the door behind me, and filmed excitedly. Diana reached for her purse and pulled out a small pink vibrator. Giggling excitedly, Diana pushed the small phallus between her hungry pink lips. She watched herself in the mirror as she slowly explored the soft folds of her pussy. Diana fingered her clit and built a rhythm to feed her arousal.

I unleashed my stiffened prick and filming her in the dressing room mirror, I pushed my cock into her mouth. Diana rubbed herself wild with her whirring toy. I put the camera aside and knelt between Diana’s wide spread thighs where I could stare into the pink cavern of her tiny cunt as the humming vibrator drifted back into Diana’s hand. She pushed her fertile mouth lower, forward until Diana pressed up the small pink vibrator from below. At Diana’s first shudder, I took the thing from her and deliberately pushed the plastic rod deep into her ass. Diana bit her lip to keep from screaming. I kissed her raging white clitoris as I began to fuck her ass with a steady rhythm, the vibrator whirring with the modulation of each bottom’s descent. Diana groaned hard, still biting her lip, grinding my face on her cunt with both hands.

As we drove home, Diana leaned across the seat to suck on my prick, gently teasing her naked clit as she did. We almost caused an accident. There are worse ways to die.