My Boyfriend Paraded Me Around the Supermarket Almost Naked

It was one of those winter nights when the cold seeps through the seams of your clothes. I’d left campus early and had a couple of hours to kill before meeting Bruno, my boyfriend, so I decided to wander aimlessly through downtown. I was wearing a little tobacco-colored camisole, with no bra, and over it a fine-knit white sweater, almost transparent, the kind that hides nothing when the light hits it. Tight jeans and a thong I could barely feel. I don’t know why I dressed that way that night. Maybe, somewhere deep down, I already knew what I was looking for.

I passed a small bar I’d been to a couple of times. Inside, at a table by the window, three men in their forties looked up when they saw me. They recognized me, and one of them called me by name. They were regulars, construction workers who ended the day with a few beers. They gestured for me to come in and warm up for a while, and the cold was excuse enough.

“Stay, let us buy you something,” said the biggest one, pulling out a chair for me.

I sat down with my sweater still on, hugging myself. But they insisted, laughing, that I take it off, that it was warm inside, that I shouldn’t be shy. And I, with my body burning that night for some reason I didn’t understand, took it off.

Underneath, the camisole barely contained my tits. Without a bra, they looked heavy and outlined, my nipples hard and poking against the thin fabric. The three of them stopped talking for a second, and I felt their eyes drift to my cleavage. They’re getting hard, I thought, and the idea gave me a wet tingling between my legs, a throb in my cunt I hadn’t expected.

They couldn’t stop staring at me. They joked around and complimented me, and every word made me more nervous and hotter at the same time. Until one of them, the quietest, leaned across the table and told me in a low voice that he’d pay to see my tits without the camisole. Just to look. The other two nodded, pulled out thick wads of bills, and laid them on the wood, staring at me with the faces of hungry males who made no attempt to hide anything.

I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. I looked at the door, the nearly empty bar, the low lights. Then I pulled the straps down to my waist.

The cold air raised goose bumps on my skin as soon as my nipples were exposed. They grew rock-hard, stretched tight, almost painfully so. Three pairs of eyes moved over me as if they were touching me. The biggest one licked his lips and couldn’t hold back: he reached out his rough, calloused hand and squeezed one whole breast, weighing it in his palm, pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A low moan escaped me, giving the other two permission, and they lunged in without asking. One sucked my right nipple with his mouth open, nibbling me and swallowing as much as he could, while the other fondled my other breast and licked my neck.

“You’re so fucking delicious, look at how hard they get,” the big one muttered hoarsely, without letting go of me.

The quietest one slipped his hand inside my jeans, made his way to my thong, and found me soaked. He smiled when he felt the wetness and drove in one finger, then two, searching inside me with the roughness of a big man, while I spread my legs farther beneath the table, unable to hide what I was doing. I was coming on his hand while the other man bit my tits, and I did nothing to stop them. Nothing. I closed my eyes and let the three of them use me, trembling against the back of the chair, mouth open and unable to swallow my moans.

***

We stayed like that for a while, amid hands moving back and forth and dirty whispers in my ear, until I remembered the time. Bruno was waiting for me. I straightened my clothes as best I could, still feeling the quiet man’s fingers marked on my cunt, pulled my straps back up, put on my sweater, and said goodbye. The quietest one offered to drive me in his car, and since it was already night outside and freezing cold, I accepted.

The ride was short. He dropped me off in front of the building where Bruno and I lived, but I didn’t have the apartment keys and he still hadn’t arrived. I asked him to wait with me in the car for a few minutes, until Bruno showed up. In the meantime, he talked. He said my boyfriend was a lucky man, that he’d never seen anyone like me, that it was hard for him to keep his hands to himself.

And he didn’t keep them to himself.

He started at my knee and moved up my thigh, and I did nothing to stop him. On the contrary. I reached for his crotch and found him rock-hard, his cock outlined beneath the fabric like a hot bar of steel. I lowered his zipper and pulled it out of his pants: it was thick and long, with a red head and a thick drop of precum beading at the tip. Much bigger than I’d expected, and that fascinated me. Without thinking, I leaned over him, grabbed it with both hands, and sank my mouth all the way down, gagging a little. I sucked him whole, spitting on it and licking it from his balls to the tip, swallowing as much as I could while he grabbed my hair and shoved it deeper into my mouth.

“Fuck, you suck so good, take all of it,” he panted, thrusting his hips against my face.

I sucked him with my cheeks hollowed, making wet noises, slobbering over his balls, and I could think only about how badly I needed that cock inside my cunt. I pulled my jeans down along with my thong and climbed on top of him as best I could in the cramped seat. I took hold of him, positioned him at my entrance, and slowly lowered myself, impaling myself all the way down. He went in with a pressure that made me bite my lip to keep from screaming, forcing me wide open, so thick I felt as though he were splitting me apart. I started bouncing on him, gripping the steering wheel, the roof, anything I could find, while he pounded hard from underneath without stopping, driving into me to the balls every time. My tits bounced against his face, and he bit them, sucked them, tugged at my nipples with his teeth.

“Fuck me hard, you son of a bitch, harder,” I begged, pressing his head against my tits.

At some point my thong got in the way, and, impatient, he ripped it off in one pull, leaving it hanging from one ankle. He turned me around right there against the seat, put me on all fours with my ass raised, and shoved into me from behind, gripping my hips and fucking me like an animal in that tiny space, driving me against the door with every thrust. He spit on my ass and shoved his thumb in there too, while he kept hammering my cunt. He came inside me with a roar, hot spurts filling me until they overflowed, just as I lost control, torn apart by an orgasm I had never felt with such intensity, squeezing his cock with my cunt as though I never wanted to let it go.

I got out, panting, semen running down my thighs, and asked him for something to clean myself with. Laughing, he offered me the shredded thong. I barely wiped the cum from my slit and handed it back to him, a sticky rag. I told him to leave, that Bruno was about to arrive, and as soon as the car pulled away I saw my boyfriend’s headlights turn the corner.

***

Bruno got out, surprised to find me on the street. He asked how I’d gotten there and whether we weren’t going to stop by my mother’s house. I told him someone had driven me. We went upstairs, and inside the apartment he immediately noticed that I wasn’t wearing underwear beneath my jeans.

“And your thong?” he asked, not angrily, just with a strange curiosity.

“I didn’t bring it,” I answered. “I wanted to come like this, for you.”

He said nothing. He just stared at me for a long while, as if calculating something. Then he came closer, took off my sweater and camisole, and left me bare from the waist up in the middle of the living room. I thought we were heading straight for the bed. But no.

“Put on the sweater,” he told me. “Just the sweater.”

I obeyed. The transparent fabric covered me without hiding anything: my tits showed completely, my nipples taut and dark against the knit. Then he took off my jeans and pulled a tiny skirt from a drawer, one of those that barely covers you, and held it out to me.

“Put it on. I have to buy a few things at the supermarket.”

I looked at him without understanding, but something in his voice made me comply. I put the skirt on over my bare skin, with nothing underneath, and we went out into the street. The supermarket was two blocks away. As we walked, I could still feel the warm trace of the other man’s cum trickling inside me, a thick thread running down my thigh, and I discreetly wiped myself with my hand so Bruno wouldn’t notice.

The cold night air had my nipples ready to burst beneath the sweater. A couple of men passing by stopped and stared at me open-mouthed, and I felt my cheeks burning, but I also felt my cunt throbbing again, getting me wet all over. Bruno walked half a step behind me, watching me and watching the way they watched me. He likes this just as much as I do, I realized. And that changed everything.

***

We went inside. Beneath the supermarket’s white lights, I felt more exposed than I had out on the street. Every step made my tits move beneath the thin fabric, my nipples showing shamelessly. A man came toward me, and my first instinct was to cover myself with my arm, pretending to fix my hair, while my other hand squeezed Bruno’s.

But farther ahead, two young men appeared, tall and attractive, and I decided not to hide. I lowered my arm. My nipples showed fully through the sweater, and they didn’t look away even after we had passed them. One of them discreetly grabbed his bulge through his pants without taking his eyes off me, and I couldn’t help smiling. Bruno leaned toward my ear.

“Walk ahead. I want to see you. And I want them to see you.”

I did it. I walked alone down the aisle, knowing his eyes were following me, and in an empty stretch I slowly bent down as if I were looking for something on a low shelf. The skirt barely covered me: I knew everything was visible, my swollen cunt still glistening with the other man’s semen, my entire ass exposed. When I stood up, Bruno’s eyes were blazing and his cock was unmistakably outlined beneath his jeans.

“You look incredible,” he murmured. “They could see your whole slit, you slut.”

Those words made me want more. I walked to the deli section, where an employee was offering samples. Off to one side were tables with people eating dinner, drinking coffee, and chatting. The boy behind the counter offered me a piece of ham to try. I climbed onto one of the metal steps protecting the display cases from shopping carts, leaned toward him, and opened my mouth, sticking out my tongue as though I were sucking his cock, without taking my eyes from his while his gaze dropped to my tits.

I was wearing a miniskirt with no underwear, a sweater that made everything transparent, letting a stranger feed me with his mouth, while the men at the tables behind me had a full view of my ass and the wet cunt the skirt no longer covered as I bent over. Bruno watched everything from a distance. Later he would tell me exactly what they’d seen—that one man had unzipped his fly beneath the table, that another had rubbed his cock without even trying to hide it—and just imagining it sent a shiver through me, and I felt another thick drop trickle down the inside of my thigh.

We continued toward the checkout lanes. Bruno walked ahead. He turned around just as a couple joined the line beside us, two shy, bespectacled boys who, according to him, had approached without suspecting a thing. He quietly asked me to turn toward them, and I obeyed. The young man’s eyes went wide when he saw my bare tits beneath the fabric, my erect nipples pointing straight at him, while his girlfriend looked at me, scandalized and curious, her cheeks red. I held her gaze a second too long, enjoying the power to provoke that reaction, and even arched my back a little so they would show more clearly.

***

By the time we left the supermarket, I was so aroused I could barely walk straight. My cunt was dripping, and I could feel the wetness running down my legs; every brush of the skirt against my bare buttocks made me clench my teeth. The whole night had built up inside my body: the hands of the three men from the bar on my tits, the quiet man’s cock splitting me open inside the car, and now this slow, deliberate exhibition Bruno had orchestrated for both of us.

We didn’t make it to the apartment. On the building’s stairs, at the landing between two floors, he pushed me against the cold wall and hiked my skirt up to my waist. There was no foreplay. He forced my legs apart with his knee, lowered his zipper, pulled out his cock, hard as a rock, and drove it into me all the way down. I moaned against his mouth, biting him, while he pounded me without stopping, lifting me off the floor with every thrust, my tits bouncing beneath the sweater. He grabbed one of my legs and raised it around his waist to open me wider, then sank even deeper, fucking me against the cold tiles.

“You’re soaking wet, slut. Did it turn you on to be watched?” he growled in my ear, never stopping his pounding.

“Yes, baby, yes, fuck me harder,” I answered, clawing at his back.

He turned me toward the wall, made me brace my hands against it, and fucked me from behind, grabbing my hair and driving into me to the balls with a fury I had never seen in him. He groped my tits beneath the sweater, pinched my nipples, and spanked me again and again until my ass was hot. We came almost together, right there on the stair landing, him emptying himself inside me with a muffled groan, me biting my fist so I wouldn’t wake the building, while my cunt throbbed as it filled with yet another load.

Even that didn’t stop us. We entered the apartment half-naked, my skirt crumpled and Bruno’s cock still hard, and did it again on the rug, then against the sofa, and then with me on my back in bed and him on top of me until neither of us could take any more. I ended up face-down, both loads running from my open cunt, while he ran his tongue along my back, bit my buttocks, and whispered dirty things in my ear about everything he had seen that night.

That night we discovered something neither of us had ever admitted aloud: I was turned on by being watched, desired, and used, while he was turned on by seeing me provoke other men’s desire, imagining me with them, smelling them on me. We shouted so loudly that the next day a neighbor, with an uncomfortable smile in the elevator, commented that he had heard everything.

I laughed, said I was sorry, and went inside before he could see my blush. But inside, I was thinking about the next time. Because after that night, Bruno and I understood that this was only the beginning. What came afterward, however, is another story.