My Inappropriate Bulge Led to a Risky Impromptu Sexual Surprise from a Sales Associate

A few weeks ago I was driving to a wedding upstate when I realized I had forgotten to bring appropriate pants for the rehearsal dinner. I stopped on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere and pulled out my phone, hoping to find some retail option to solve my problem. As luck would have it, there was a small outlet mall about an hour out of the way. Thankfully I had left early enough that I had plenty of time to take the detour.

After an hour of driving through gorgeous farmland, I pulled into this tiny little collection of shops. The place was a ghost town, I did a quick lap around to see which shops might have nice pants, and I saw literally zero other patrons. There were like two other cars in the parking lot. It seemed that tons of the shops had closed over the pandemic and never recovered, so it made sense I guess. I found the menswear shop and fortunately it was open. I walked in and at first, it seemed like no one was working the shop. But the lights were on and the door was open, so I figured I was good to look around.

After searching and finding nothing my size, I began to lose hope. Suddenly I hear, “Hi sir, sorry! I didn’t realize you were in here. Never heard you come in.” I turn around to find this cute, plump and curvy, smiley half-asian (I think?) semi-aloof girl smiling at me apologetically.

“All good! I’m looking for some slacks, do you think you could help me out?”

“Of course!” She said, seemingly relieved that I wasn’t upset about the slow service. I told her my size and she guided me to a rack of pants, then pulled off a few pairs and handed them to me. “Try these on, and we can start to get an idea of what fit will work best for you.”

I entered the fitting room and tried on the first pair, which were far too big. I stepped out and showed her the fit. “Yeah those won’t work.” She said. She stepped towards me and asked me “What side do you dress on?” Puzzled by her question, I looked at her sort of blankly. “Oh—“ she said, blushing, “It means like, what, or, which pant leg does your…” she gestured at my crotch.

“Oh!” I said laughing, triggering her to laugh as well. “On the left. Sorry I’ve never heard that before.”

“It’s ok!” She said with another laugh. Well, there was clearly some miscommunication, maybe I misunderstood who’s left, or maybe she misunderstood who’s left, I’m not sure. But she proceeded to run her hand from my belt down my crotch right down the length of my cock. Once her hand reached the end and she realized she had just felt me up, her hand froze for a moment, before rocketing away. “Oh my god! I am so so sorry sir, I— I thought you meant—“

“It is totally fine.” I assured her. Meanwhile my cock is now filling with blood in response to the surprise over the pants action. Luckily, the pants are baggy enough that I have a few moments before my bulge becomes noticeable. I duck back into the fitting room.

“Why don’t you try on a slimmer fit? The inseam should be alright on the pairs in there, but we’ll see.”

I pulled on one of the slimmer pairs, and while the fit was decent, I was now sporting an incredibly noticeable bulge. I wasn’t fully erect, but at about 60% I was easily sporting 6 inches of unmissable meat. Soon to be 7 if I wasn’t careful. I had a decision to make. Was I going to wait out this boner, and come up with some hollow excuse for why I couldn’t exit the changing room, or was I going to own my body and walk out, sporting dense wood.

“How are those fitting sir?”

Without thinking I stepped out of the changing room. She looked up, and then down, and for a brief moment, I had no idea if she was going to give me a compliment, or lock the store and call the police. Either way, it was clear from her widened eyes that she very much saw how excited I was, and the longer her eyes lingered, the less control I had over my now throbbing-to-life erection. She was, at this point, witnessing the growth real-time. Finally she took a quick breath in and looked up from the vulgar tent in my yet-to-be-purchased pants. “Oh. Um… uh… I think they will work fine, thanks.”

“Great! Anything else I can help you with?” I kind of fumbled the situation at that moment. Instead of saying something in return, I just looked down at my out of control bulge. Her eyes immediately shot down to my crotch, as though I was gesturing for her to look at it? Not my intention! But I was too distracted by arousal to be too concerned with intention. I couldn't help it but I was quite into the awkward sexiness of the exchange. She attempted to cover her blushing. The color drained from her face in seconds. But I did not shy away, for some reason I guess I thought I still had a chance to play this off well. I looked her in the eye, and smiled at her. She seemed confused but intrigued. I reached down and slowly began to adjust my cock back into pants.

“I’m sorry about..." I nodded down towards my crotch with an uneasy smirk “… that.”

She smiled. “It's, like, it’s really ok. Like, don’t worry about it.”

Her words were sincere. I couldn’t tell if she knew what we just shared, or if she just felt sorry for me. And even more, why would I care if she did? The feeling was so incredibly good that all I wanted to do was continue the conversation, boner or not. She had an aura like a tractor beam with cleavage. I wanted to get to know her. But I also wanted to fuck her. The duality of man. “Well.” I said, defeated but sort of joking, “these obviously aren’t a great fit. I think I should probably..take a sec, and then maybe you can help me find a pair that fits better?”

She laughed softly, then let her eyes drift downwards, and back up to my eyes, all with a heavy intentionality I hadn’t picked up on before. “What do you mean? You look great in those… What's your name sir?” I told her my name, and she reiterated. “Yeah, you look really solid in these.”

I smiled wide but gathered myself, awkwardly sputtering “I think they might be a bit tight.”

“I think that’s a you problem, honestly. Look, turn around—“ I, with what was in hindsight, a comedic lack of hesitation, turned to face away from her. She approached me from behind, and smoothly ran her hands around (no contact yet) my hips, landing them gently but confidently on the right waistline. She snuck her fingers onto the edges of the waistline, and tugged down a few times. “See how they hug your hips like that?” She gave a few more tugs by the waistline, “that’s a good fit on you!” She continued wrapping around, now hugging me from behind essentially, but in a way that seemed appropriate if you were to look on, (it was just a fitting session I suppose) and gently grazed the front section of the waist of the pants, while asking, “do you have much give in the front?” She asked so innocently I almost forgot that I was sporting a visibly long restless cock under the discount chinos. “Oh, yeah you know what? They might be a bit tight in the front there.” she said, and with precision, as she pulled her hands away, they fell downwards, intercepting the start of the curvature of my bulge, but with plausible deniability. I was in disbelief but so fucking turned on.

But she wasn't finished yet. With the slightest hint of mischief, she tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Come on, I'm sure we have something for you in here." I walked behind her with pleasure, watching her ass glide back and forth like a fleshy beacon. I wished at that moment that her pants were as tight as mine. She guided me back to a tailor station (whatever it’s called), surrounded by mirrors and a curtain. More private. I knew we'd find a pair in no time.

The next rack was of slightly higher quality slacks. She picked out a black one and told me to try it on. At this point there was a lot of bending over, I was suddenly being given great sightlines directly down her blouse. Could have gone either way, maybe just doing her job, but it felt like a shift. I felt she was showing off. My dick felt it. She held the new pair against my waist, checking the length of the pants against me, but it felt like an advance, intentional or not. I could feel her body warmth.

When she pulled the new pants away, I was startled at the reveal of the long rod I was oh-so-poorly smuggling in between my legs. What didn’t help was her determination that those new pants were too long: she bent over to shuffle through a stack of papers, store promo materials and fitting guides, a torturous few moments of trying to maintain composure as she all but presented me a close-up look at how effectively her curves filled out her perfect fit. She was like, quite bent over, almost, like, comically, but my mouth watered as I stared at those wonderfully round and taut cheeks, and the cute little pussy mound nestled between, peeking out as she held this pose. She must be bored as hell at this job.

I gave up on trying to go soft again, it for sure wasn’t happening soon. My cock was now a raging inferno. She could have handed me the pants and waited outside. But she instead took it upon herself to help me out of the too-tight-for-the-wedding slacks. Her hand slipped into the front pocket, her hand dangerously close to my pulsing penis, and pulled out a tag, which she glanced at before telling me, “Ah, yeah these ones tend to run a little tighter.” She stroked down the non-dick-having side of my crotch, confirming her assertion with a nod, but also making a statement by touch. She was not afraid of approaching the absurd tent I had on display in that store. "You have to take this off," she said, tugging gently at the fabric that sat just centimeters from the beginning of my now completely uncontrollable bulge. I didn't move. If the pants were coming off, that would have to be her choice. She smiled and said, "Sir?" as though nothing was amiss.

"Um." Was all I came up with before my mind blanked out with lustful panic, and the only thing running through my head was, how the hell do I ask for permission to pull my cock out without it feeling sleazy?

She gave another gentle tuck in her dress shirt, making her tits pop more prominently. And then she said, almost as if she was thinking what to say while speaking directly to my cock. "I can tell that the inseam of this pair is uncomfortable for you. Are you ok? You were definitely right, they're too tight." she chuckled, defusing the moment a bit, "Or are you considering going public with this look?" She grabbed hold of the waistline again, like I couldn't feel how tight they felt already. When she pulled them up, the heat of my cock against my thigh triggered something, it pushed me closer to 100% rigid.

"I think I just… am worried about the uh... optics– of taking my pants off right now. Indecency, I mean, you know?"

She paused.

Her hands had been wandering around the goods for a minute now. But she hadn't actually made contact. My dick had yet to be addressed on the surface level of the interaction. But I knew she could feel that there was no question about where I stood on showing it off; that it wasn't even an option because of this erection I now couldn't get rid of by way of her sensual retail teasing.

"You're in a fitting room dude. You're not exposing yourself. But I hear you. I'll help you, is that ok? Zippers get stuck sometimes. You're fine." She knelt down, head at crotch level, eye to eye with my rock hard bulge. I kind of couldn't believe it. I had been stressed wondering if I had permission to let it out, but it was her who asked for permission. I gave her a nod. And then, ironically, she did struggle with the zipper for quite some time, as the tension of my cock against the front of the pants had created a difficult angle. And then, in one fell swoop, it unzipped, and she stopped zipping just in time to avoid a violent upward bounce of my dick. Instead, she left the zipper right above the ridge of my cockhead, allowing me to maintain some semblance of decency in the tailoring room. She took a deep, heavy breath. Her tits lifted then gently lowered with the breath, so perfectly, that I reacted with an involuntary lurch: my cock jumped up, springing out of its too-tiny nest, with my heavy cock head landing with a soft thud on her thumb. She blushed intensely. What next? She didn't seem to know what to do, what her next move was, so to speak. Neither did I. We were just two normal people, and this wasn't supposed to happen, not here anyway. We both wanted more of each other, and the fact that I had even slightly been able to conceal it until now made things all the hotter when our bodies came together at last, in that moment.

The slutty serendipity was too much for me, and I finally took the lead, ever so slightly. I made an adjustment. An adjustment many men have made, many times in their life, but usually with a very different context. I reached past the white waistband of my black Calvins, and pulled the entirety of my erection up and then let it fall within the tight breathable fabric where it wanted to, laying against my belly upwards. I then had to make a secondary adjustment to keep my cock head from making an appearance-- I pulled my underwear up, concealing my length to the best of my ability. The upward tuck was hardly an improvement, if anything she now just had a better, more thorough understanding of my anatomy. But handling my throbbing manhood without consideration for "decency" felt like the message I wanted to send. I made one final adjustment, this one less performative and more functional, adjusting the pouch of the underwear so that my cock was not at a complete vertical, finding its home instead at an angle that was upward, but also outwards, supported not just by the pumping of blood and the cotton-blend of my boxer-briefs, but also by the unflinching hand of a beautiful young woman.

"Yeah," she gave a gentle nod, looking at my full, meaty package, her head cocked a bit, "Those were definitely too tight." She said this while looking right into me, her eyes flitting between my cock and my eyes, as I laid my surplus length across her hands, my warm pulsing entirety now resting comfortably along the curve of the retail worker's hand.

"I think you may be right." We looked at each other intently. She turned her head towards the front of the shop, peering through the curtains that cloaked us from the empty store. She then looked back up at me. "Keep an eye out. Like, just pay attention ok?" I nodded, though in reality, I knew it would be a herculean task to try and focus on anything other than this extra personal fitting experience. I didn't know what was gonna happen but I knew we were on the same page.

Her eyes lingered upon my hard cock as her fingers slowly traced it through fabric while I stood in front of her, completely aroused. Her eyes were wide open, pupils dilating as she pulled the pants down with one hand, while letting her other hand gently pull my cock downwards with a very sexy overhand grip. My erection grew longer. I couldn't help it. My dick was now so rigid; there wasn't any more space for it in my briefs—and it felt amazing, and also embarrassing but oh so fucking hot. After feeling the length of my cock, she leaned back a bit, and squinted, then leaned back in, inspecting the shape I was producing through the now very taut fabric. Then, with what I could only describe as a sort of silently awakened curiosity on her face, she grabbed my waistband and pulled down. She watched closely as my cock sprang up with force then fell, then bounced up and down before her eyes a few times, all that tension that had been building since I opened the door to the store, gone. Free from any threaded oppressive forces, my cock hovered, and she stared it down, mouth slightly agape, as if waiting for me to say something. But I said nothing. She laughed a single subdued laugh, a knowing laugh, satisfied, as if she had discovered something. My cock felt like steel. With every beat of my heart it twitched. I was driven by carnality as I leaned over and placed my hand on her chest, slipping it steadily downwards and onto her breast. Feeling her nipple, hard, drove me absolutely crazy, but I tried to hold it together as I engulfed what I could of her breast, with my hand, just holding it and feeling her fill my hand as she leaned forward towards me again. This was no longer retail—it was about us now.

Her hand approached my bare cock, and she looked up at me for a split second before focusing again on my lengthy rigidity, focused, but delighted, maybe slightly investigative even. And then there was contact. Her fingers were on me, finally, on my skin.

And once again, but this time with no fabric in between, she began a long surveying stroke. It was slow, she had started her hand up between my legs at the base of my shaft, (an intimate, almost familiar grasp) before letting her hand slide down, a lazy pace of delicate fingers dragging down my hot cock, her finger tips making a meal of every bump and ridge and vein that I had to offer. She finished this ‘scenic route stroke’ with a delicate grasp of the tip of my head, then pulled my dick to the side, taking in the full length I was presenting, eyeing it from tip to base. My interpretation of her body language, though maybe optimistic, was that she had been caught off guard by the last inch or so. She clocked the 7 inches, but the last half-ish inch, she had to feel it to believe it. Not that I’m sporting anything unheard of, more of a “more than meets the eye” situation, is my guess. Who knows, maybe she was just really fucking horny and into it lol.

I don't think I'd ever had someone take their time like this while stroking me. Normally I can hold out for at least long enough to both sit back and enjoy, and then introduce some variety or display some sexual agency on my part. And honestly, earlier when she pulled me off of the main floor and offered to help with my pants, even the most optimistic version of me thought maybe I was stumbling into a quick backroom handy-hookup that I could perhaps tell the groomsmen about, perhaps not. But with all that build-up, her unexpectedly slow, passionate, adventurous work on my dick had me at the edge in nearly no-time. God she was so fucking hot. I squeezed her nipple between my thumb and middle finger as we looked into each other's eyes– she knew what she was doing to me as she picked up the pace, working my shaft and head with more and more vigor. I wanted her to slow down, but then remembered: she was at work (in more ways than one). My hips started moving, she started giving me whispered encouragement, I closed my eyes in pleasure as the warmth built from my knees, up towards my balls, her hands twisting and gliding up and down my about-to-burst cock, I forgot I was in a menswear store, I had no idea where I was for those last 20 - 30 seconds of her dominant sensual rhythm, her tight grip shuttling back and forth brought me right up to the brink. She knew she had me where she wanted me. Sweating. Bracing. Throbbing. Aching with pleasure. In her hand. At her will. For a second I was floating– I was hers.

"Yeah? Does that work?" She asked with a horny breathy moan. I could barely nod "yes." The heat that had been building up between her palm and my cock exploded out of my dick head as I felt her pulling my cock downwards. I opened my eyes and looked down at my rock hard cock blowing thick hot spools of cum, spool after spool and watched as each spurt shot past her self-satisfied grin with velocity, hitting the plastic lining of a little waste bin she had grabbed while I was lost in her handy work. Her hand glistened now, covered in cum, her stroking slowed but did not cease, and with each hearty pull up my shaft towards my head, my dick would produce another splatter, and I would indulge in a squeeze of her breast, a lustful draining rhythm that, even when it slowed to a stop, had me dripping and oozing. I've never cum so hard from a handjob. It was insane. And yet I felt a real pang of sadness as she got up-- I could tell from her haste that she was getting anxious about being off the floor for so long, granted, it was a semi-deserted outlet mall, I had only seen other shoppers in the food court. I wanted so badly to return the favor some way, but it wasn't in the cards. Luckily, the first thing she did (after changing her shirt in front of me, which gave me a nice look at what I missed out on) was pull out her phone and hand it to me for a contact exchange.

After she had my info, she made it clear that this was not going to be a one time thing if she could help it. I promised that I would help her out of any tight pants, tight shirt, anything she's ever wearing, I will help her take it off, if she's in my neck of the woods. Oh and it took her about 30 seconds to find the right cut pants for me. As though she knew the pair, and just had to empty me out first to get the fit right.

My dream is to hopefully link up with her again soon, so I can take her pants off, and we can really see how I fit.