Some relationships were just meant to be.

I met Karen while cruising a food court at a local mall. I was looking for a potential up-skirt or a good prospect for a flash. It didn’t matter to me. I was flexible.

I didn’t have to look long. She was sitting in a corner of the food court with an older man who was obviously not her boy friend and probably not her father. They were drinking coffee. He had a file folder spread out in front of him. As I walked by, I glanced at what looked like a resume in the folder. A job interview? Good possibility, I thought, since store managers often did their interviews over coffee in the food court. But the way this girl was dressed – this was not your typical job interview outfit.

She displayed so much cleavage; I spotted her from the far side of the court. She wore a tight fitting transparent black top, with a deep V-neck that was loosely laced together at the bottom of the V. Beneath this she wore a black lacey bra joined only by its thin clasp between her breasts. She was no Barbie, but a slightly plump one hundred percent woman. Voluptuous would aptly describe this auburn-haired, Rubinesque beauty.

As if a gallon of cleavage wasn’t enough, she also wore a short black skirt, slit on both sides, and high-heeled sandals on her feet and no stockings. She sat back relaxed in her seat, her legs apart, displaying a foot of soft white inner thigh. Her companion leaned forward, elbows on the table, the better to view the mountains of flesh displayed before him.

I quickly bought a coffee and found a seat nearby – facing her of course, where I could best view her lovely plump thighs. Her eyes watched me carefully as I sat down, as I crossed my legs to prevent any accidental exposure from my wide leg shorts, as I opened the lid of my coffee and took a sip.

I tried to catch a glimpse, but each time my eyes moved in her direction, her eyes moved in mine. She was obviously watching to see where I looked. Self-conscious? Perhaps. She had crossed her legs when I sat down and kept them crossed.

When once again our eyes met, I thought “to hell with it” and let my eyes drop to her breasts then lower to her legs, returning to find her still looking at me. I smiled. She looked away toward the man who sat across the table from her and…

Uncrossed her legs. As my gaze descended, her hand slid beneath the table, gripped the hem of her skirt and pulled it upward. At the same time she wiggled in her seat allowing her skirt to rise up and turned slightly toward me. Then glancing once again in my direction, she allowed her legs to part revealing a light blue patch of material between her legs.

Her attention returned to her interviewer, but her legs remained apart. I looked around. We were not alone. An older woman sat off to my right, reading a book. To my left and slightly behind me were two young women, giggling. They too had noticed the unfettered display of tit and panties and what to me was erotic, they found simply amusing.

I desperately wanted to free my cock from the confines of my shorts. Despite the close proximity of the young women, I decided it was worth a gamble anyway and unfolded my legs allowing my swelling cock to fall out of my shorts.

This time, when the object of my lust glanced in my direction, her eyes seemed to widen a bit. She looked away, and then back, then away, then back again. Was that the hint of a smile on her lips? I knew she could see my hose dangling from the edge of my shorts at least in the periphery of her vision.

She didn’t flinch, but continued talking with the older man, glancing occasionally at my swelling prick, sipping her coffee, signing a document, her legs apart and a dark blue patch of wetness growing on her baby blue panties. I made no effort to hide my arousal, pulled the edge of my shorts away to display all my equipment and gripped my now rock hard pole and slowly began to stroke.

The hand that had obligingly lifted her skirt now returned beneath the table, slipping under the edge of blue, probing the hidden crevasse beneath. Her other hand gently touched the edge of her breast and her companion shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

I heard more giggles behind me and whispered voices. I glanced over my shoulder toward the two women who now realized there was more than an immodest display of panty going on. They could not help but see the quivering phallus. But experience had taught me their laughter and whispers were a sign of curiosity. They weren’t upset by what they saw, just amazed that it was happening at all. Knowing they were now watching this sex dance unfold just turned me on more and my cock felt so fat it could explode.

She moved the hand that caressed her breast and it too descended beneath the table joining the other in exploration of her sex. Her eyes turned less and less toward her acquaintance and more and more toward my erection. The women behind me sat quiet now, observing us, as we masturbated in unison.

The older woman to my right looked up from her book and I shoved my erection between my legs. Did she see? She stood up from the table continuing to look in my direction, a scowl appearing on her face. She gathered up her things and slowly walked in my direction. As she passed I could feel her gaze. My cock was so big, I could not hide it. Certainly she would see what I was doing.

I knew then that I should leave, but I didn’t, being held captive by this large breasted beauty, fingering herself with two hands while continuing a conversation (about what? I wondered) with a person who seemed to be totally unaware of her intensifying arousal.

I was headed toward orgasm, although I still felt in control, but it wasn’t going to happen, at least not there. The older woman was returning. I could see her heading my way from the far side of the food court. Accompanying her was a security guard. Time to go. I took one last glance at those soft white parted thighs, rose, turned and began to walk away. Behind me I heard a loud voice commanding me to stop. I moved fast, down the escalator, turning toward Walmart.

I knew they would expect me to head for the nearest exit. And I was right, for no one followed me into the store. I wandered around for half an hour, keeping my eyes open, aware of the difficulty I could find myself in.

At least I thought I was aware, for suddenly I heard footsteps behind me and a soft cough. I turned to face the fair skinned flasher from the food court.

She stopped, folding her arms under her breasts, and smiled. “I think we have something in common,” she said.