Angel’s Den XXX Emporium

Angel’s Den XXX Emporium
by Coriander
“Nice shoes.” I smiled politely, trying to be nonchalant, looking down at the orange and pink plaid patterned tennis shoes I was wearing..
“Thanks,” I answered half sarcastically. “They are my girlfriend’s. I spent the night, and mine got thrashed in that storm.” It was true. The rain last night was glorious and long, and my normal shoes would probably squeak the puddle water out of them for a week. We were both thoroughly drenched when we got back from the movies.
I was hanging out at the front of the store, close to the non-threatening toys, oils, lingerie, etc., unsure of where the day would take me.
He smiled at me. I was starting to get some idea of him. Just as much as anything, I like to watch where the people go. It was pretty classic for an adult type store. I guess I should have a better, more lurid name for them, since I go so often. But I go to bookstores, like real bookstores, so in my head, that name is already taken. I’m still pretty naive about all this.
He was tall, so I could see where he was going. It was a pattern I had seen before. Somehow perhaps the store was set up that way. Maybe they all are. I could write my thesis about this pattern. A slow spiral from straight to lesbian. I was hoping I knew the next stop. He looked pretty normal, but he was definitely following the yellow brick road. I was only curious whether or not he’d take the bypass to BDSM. But it is always just a stop.
He noticed my shoes. He was going to end up in the “tranny” section. I felt a little weird about them calling it that at the store. But I guess expecting any social sensitivity at a store like this was a little too much to ask. For the first time ever, I decided that I might end up there, as well. This time it might be a different kind of browsing.
I wandered between the aisles. I wondered if I was following a pattern, too. Even as a kid, sneaking into this kind of store, I got a weird thrill from it all. It reminded me of an even younger time, on family trips, sneaking into the fireworks stores in South Carolina. There’s a whole dangerous world out there, kids. I wandered through a couple straight sections. Don’t get me wrong. I loved it all. This felt very, very new. Maybe it was because I knew where I was going.
I walked by the toys, fingers running over the shiny, colorful packaging. I almost felt like winking at a particularly lewd dildo. I’d really only played with one, but this one looked different. Then I did wink, and it was ridiculous but I felt so sexy. That wink built up inside me like a hiccup, and I had to let it out. But I walked on. Past the fetish clothes. Not my thing, but maybe his.
I am short. He’d have to listen for me, toys and shimmering clothes clicking and jiggling as I ran my hands over them, bouncing down the aisles.
I was bouncing. I felt so happy right then.
I was back by the videos. I looked up into one of the bubble mirrors hiding a security camera. He was close. He did make the BDSM detour, but they do trick you at this store. It’s a subtle transition from vanilla to that section of videos. And I was home. Where I felt so comfortable.
“Tranny.”
I am a pretty normal guy. A typical 23 year old. 5’6”, not thin for sure, but not crazy fat. I have a cute girlfriend. Still, I have obvious breasts, some quirk of drinking too much milk (or maybe hoping too hard). But I mean, I read comic books. I like record stores. Always though, all of it was people watching, I guess.
I looked down at the sneakers. They were cute. I was cute.
I was bent down, looking at some glorious tg girl video box. I heard the bell over the door ring. No! God I hope he didn’t leave. I turned around, already in half pout, and there he was. Close. No, closer than that, girls. He was very much in my space. A space that I wanted to share anyway, from the moment I saw him.
“Don’t pout, sweetheart.”
I was dizzy all the sudden. But if there was one thing for sure, I stopped pouting. I smiled shyly.
“Sorry,” I apologized, for just about nothing. He still hadn’t moved, and neither had I. I looked up at him, biting my lip. I wanted to jump up on my tippy toes and just kiss him, but I was not that girl yet.
“I hope you’re not sorry for that thong.” He noticed! Under my boy clothes, which felt so scratchy and weird all the sudden, I was wearing the bottoms to my girlfriend’s bikini. The top must have been peaking out over the waist of my shorts as I bent down to look at the video, which I dropped when he startled me.
“I dropped…the…” My voice tailed off into a whisper. I bent down at the waist to pick up the video. And I made my decision. When I popped back up, I was Coriander.
A slut. A bimbo.
“I am sooooo clumsy!” I have a pretty reasonable voice, high as a boy, so if I use a few mannerisms, say the right things, it is very feminine. Part of this little journey has always been phone sex. The first time a guy asked me for my number, I wanted to cry with joy. When he asked me if I would rather call instead, I was even happier. “No, I like my men to call me.”
He smiled. He had to notice the transformation. I smiled back at him. More confidence this time. The confidence of an adorable, empty headed slut. Something for a wolf like him to devour. I had him, and there was no way I’d survive. He took the video out of my hands.
“I hope yours isn’t that big.”
It was true. The girl on the cover, while gorgeous, exotic…just utterly alluring, also had a pretty big cock. But I didn’t want to talk about mine so much yet. “Who cares about my little clit.” I wanted to let him know, though, that it was definitely not that big. “I hope yours is bigger, though!” Oh Coriander, I thought to myself. I was proud. Proud of being this bimbo slut.
He just smiled again. I could have reached for it. His cock was right there. But I didn’t. And not because my confidence, Coriander’s confidence, wavered. Because that confidence was growing. I wanted to play just like this some more. Not much more, but I wanted a whole moment. I bent back down to put it on the shelf, hoping he would see that I was also wearing the matching bikini top under my tshirt. I had been feeling the dangling spaghetti straps tickle my back the whole time. I told you I was cute!
I sprung back up again, and I knew I was right the whole time. He slipped my hand into his. Just for a second. Or an hour. He understood the moment, but that definitely moved it along. I felt my clitty rub against the lycra of the bikini bottom. We walked for a few steps, still holding on, before he let go to reach for a video. Just a couple looking to spice things up. I was in heaven. He showed me the box, and I just acted so dumb, it was perfect. No, I wasn’t acting. I was dumb, and all I could do was trust him.
He asked me, “Ever go to that aisle over there?” He gestured to the BDSM aisle.
“Let’s just stay here for now,” I whispered, as slutty as possible.
“I have a better idea.” He grabbed my hand again, leading me to the back. “Don’t worry, baby. I know the people that work here, and they never check the booths.” My smile widened, my perpetually bit lip pulling free, finally. I wanted to skip. His hand was so large compared to mine. It was just this complete feeling of wonderful, wonderful powerlessness.
He opened the door for me, and my knees almost buckled.
I had been in the back before, but only out of curiosity. Like I said before, I was very naive about all of this. It was just so dark, and even though the store was dead, there were a few guys in there. They looked at us walk in. They looked at me, really. The door closed, and I slipped my tshirt over my head. I loosened my boy’s shorts and they fell to the ground. I stepped out of them, and I felt perfect. He took my hand and led me further in.
Then I did it. Finally. Up on my tippy toes, he pulled me close, and leaned in for a kiss.
And as natural as tippy toes felt, as girly, as silly, as perfect, held by a man, there was something else. Gravity pulled me down, out of his embrace, and onto my knees. I could feel him watching. All of them, there could be two, there could be fifty, all of them were watching me almost climb down his chest, his waist, till I was where I belonged. I unzipped his pants, easing his cock out. Still soft, it was porno-big, which was my only real experience other than dildos until this moment. I posed with it for the audience. I could only see their eyes and their hands sliding down to their own cocks. TV screens flickered lighting everything just enough.
I turned back around, licking the fat head. It barely fit, but it was such a perfect feeling. Soft yet hard. And then harder. Precum was already gushing. My clit throbbed in the bikini. I slipped it farther and farther in until I choked. I could feel his smile. I guess he was waving the others over. There were gorgeous cocks all around me, but all I wanted was for my man to cum. I groped and felt and caressed them all, and god yes, I wanted them to cum alllll over me, but I wanted his cum in me. I choked and choked, almost crying, gagging. Trying to fit every inch in me. His moans spurred me on. Deeper, deeper in my throat, till I felt his balls on my face.
Heaven. A minute. An hour? Forever?
I could tell he was close. I didn’t know what to do. I know this is what he liked, but I wanted to taste his cum so badly, and his cock head was practically in my stomach. I eased off of it, wanting it so bad. But he knew, and pushed me back onto him, hard. He held me there, suffocating, and in heaven. And then he came, and I looked up at him. Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. I need you. Whatever he wanted to hear, I was trying to say it with my eyes.
The other guys came too. One by one, and he slowly let me ease his softening cock out of my throat. I gasped for air, knowing I was his forever. I eased my hand off his balls and touched my own sticky panties. I don’t even know if one of these perverse demons made me cum, or if it was just submitting to him. I brought my hand back up to my mouth, licking it clean. I brushed my hair out of my eyes.
He took my hand and lifted me up off my knees. I wanted to rest against him, but I was covered in cum. He guided me back out, tv screens still flickering, the crowd around us back in the shadows.
The store was so bright. I didn’t even think of my boy clothes until we were halfway to the exit. Just me in these cute sneakers and a ridiculously cute bikini, and my man. I giggled. We got to the door, and the girl behind the counter smiled. I smiled back.
Looking up at my man, I giggled, “I guess you should meet my girlfriend!”
He smiled as I asked the girl at the counter, “Bridgette, eventually go and get my boy clothes, please.”
“Sure thing, Corey,” she replied.
“It’s not Corey. It’s Coriander.”