Almost two months had passed since that unexpected, heady, risk-filled sex with Misha in the movie theater and my provocative naked stroll under a down jacket. During that time, we met at our rented apartment only a couple of times, and our encounters began to lose their former intensity, becoming a predictable ritual. First, Misha would perform oral sex on me, which greatly aroused me, his tongue tracing leisurely circles on my clit, making my whole body shudder in anticipation. Then he would put me on all fours on the bed and, firmly gripping my hips, fuck me for about 30 minutes with his thick cock, accompanied by my moans and screams. Each thrust echoed like a dull thud in my uterus, and a burning heat spread through my back and buttocks. Then he would come on my back, and I would feel hot streams of sperm spreading across my skin, leaving sticky trails. Then we would go to the shower, where we would wash each other. Hands sliding over my wet body washed away traces of passion, but they couldn't wash away the desire itself. Then we drank coffee naked, and I smoked a flavored cigarette. And then we got dressed and went home. In short, our encounters became mundane and lacking any zest. A longing for new, thrilling sensations, for the adrenaline rush you get from the risk of being noticed, was brewing within me. I wanted my blood to boil again, and my mind to cloud with a mixture of fear and lust. I needed to shake up our relationship somehow, and that's what happened. It was a warm April day. Misha called and asked to meet after work for a short walk. I needed to go shopping for something new for the summer, so I suggested we meet at the mall. I'd gotten used to going barefoot on my dates with Misha. He found it flattering, and it really turned me on. The feeling of cool air on my skin under my dress as I got into the car, and the realization that there was absolutely nothing underneath, evoked a familiar, tingling arousal. The knitwear delicately nipped at my taut nipples, and with every step, a seductive breeze swept between my bare thighs. Right now, my outfit consisted of only a short dress (above the knees), a raincoat, nude stockings, and black ankle boots. I knew that one awkward gesture, a gust of wind, or a bend, and everyone around would be able to see my little, wet secret. I arrived at the meeting first and wandered around the mall's boutiques for a bit. The awareness of my nakedness beneath my dress made my blood run faster; I caught myself moving a little more fluidly and seductively, as if inviting an invisible audience to guess my secret. As I passed the mirrors, I caught men's glances and felt a slight shudder from the fact that they didn't suspect my little secret. Their gazes, sliding down my legs and thighs, were like touches that made my core warm and moist. Mishka arrived a little later, but since we're supposedly discreet in public, we naturally don't hold hands. We simply walk side by side, as if we didn't know each other. We exchanged brief, meaningful glances, and it was enough to make the maddening throbbing in the pit of my stomach only intensify. And now, we simply went into boutiques together and wandered among the racks of clothes. I deliberately bent over in front of him to select an item from the bottom shelf, knowing that a short dress would reveal a glimpse of my buttocks, covered in thin silk stockings. In one of the boutiques, I picked out several sundresses and summer dresses and went to the fitting rooms. I chose the one at the back and hung everything I'd chosen on hooks. Naturally, Mishka snuck into the fitting room too. He likes it when I change in front of him, and it excites me. I took off my dress and stood naked in the fitting room, wearing only boots and stockings. The air suddenly seemed thick and sweet, and my reflection in the mirror—a lecherous and alluring stranger. The cool air from the air conditioner hit my bare skin, making my nipples harden to a rock-hard state, painfully sensitive to the slightest movement of the fabric. I tried on everything I'd picked out, but somehow I didn't like anything. Mishka kept getting in the way during the fittings. He would stroke my ass, his palm rough and hot, and each slap against my flesh would echo dully in the silence of the stall and create a hot wave between my legs. He would try to penetrate my pussy with his hand, his fingers slid over my already wet lips, causing an involuntary shudder, and I, leaning against the wall, involuntarily arched into his palm. This turned me on immensely, and I felt a gradual blaze of desire in my lower abdomen. I touched it with my hand, and everything there was already wet and hot. The scent of my own arousal, mixed with his perfume, was driving me crazy. Mishka was also seriously aroused; the bulge of his erection was already clearly visible in his pants. He pressed himself against me from behind, and I felt this hard heat through the fabric of his pants, pressing against my lower back. When there was nothing else left to try on, he hugged me from behind and began caressing my bare breasts with one hand, squeezing and pinching my firm nipples, sending shivers down my spine. With the other, he began caressing my pussy. His fingers found my clit and began tracing it with quick, vibrating movements that took my breath away. The world shrank to the size of this stuffy stall, to his heavy breathing in my ear, and to the growing, unbearable tension in every cell of my body. I stood naked in the fitting room in front of a full-length mirror, being caressed by a young man. The sight was incredibly arousing. In the mirror, I saw my breathless face, my mouth half-open, and his hands on my body—the sight was driving me crazy. My eyes sparkled wildly, and my cheeks were flushed with shame and arousal. I had to restrain myself greatly, as there might have been people in the adjacent stalls, and if I started moaning, they would have heard me and realized what we were doing. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, which only intensified the sensation. The taste of blood on my tongue mingled with the sweetness of forbidden pleasure. Thank goodness the fitting room had a proper door, not a curtain, and one with a latch. Having played with my breasts and clitoris enough, Misha turned me toward him and, placing his hands on my shoulders, forced me to squat down. His powerful fingers dug into my skin, leaving marks that would burn. Another second later, his naked, erect penis appeared before my face, thick, with a bloodshot head, emanating a tart masculine scent that I immediately plunged into my welcoming mouth. I tasted the salty taste of his skin and the pulsing vein in his shaft. Glancing sideways at the mirror, I saw a stunning sight. A young, clothed man stood with an erection, and in front of him, squatting, was a beautiful, naked, mature woman in stockings, sucking his cock. The contrast between his full clothing and my nakedness, between my decent appearance and our dirty act, was mind-blowing. This sight, as well as the situation itself (there were quite possibly people in the next stall), blew my mind. I began to suck Mishka's cock furiously, playing with his balls with one hand, feeling them tense in my palm, rolling like two ripe fruits, and with the other, I began to rub my clitoris and labia. My fingers glided effortlessly over my lips, swollen with arousal, and I felt my insides clench in anticipation. The excitement reached its peak, my lower abdomen clenched with mounting tension. Like a tight spring, ready to spring apart. I tried not to moan loudly with pleasure; it was good that my mouth was mostly occupied. The muffled, choking sounds coming from my throat only spurred us both on. About five minutes later, we began to cum almost simultaneously. Mishka ejaculated into my mouth, warm, thick sperm filling my mouth, and without thinking, I swallowed it, feeling his cock pulsate on my tongue, and I squirted with my pussy. A hot wave of moisture gushed out of me, drenching my fingers and thighs, and spasms of pleasure ran through my body. A powerful wave of orgasm rolled through my entire body, clouding my consciousness. The light in the stall swam before my eyes, and my ears began to ring. The aftereffects of the overwhelming orgasm left me weak, and I sank to the fitting room floor. The cool linoleum burned my hot skin. I didn't have the strength to get up on my own; my legs simply wouldn't support me. Misha lifted me up and sat me down on a pouf in the fitting room. It took me a few minutes to come to my senses. My body was damp and relaxed, my heart pounding in my throat. During this time, he wiped the remnants of unswallowed sperm from my face and chest. His movements were surprisingly gentle after his earlier roughness. Finally, I was able to stand up on my own, put on my dress, and touched up my makeup. A beautiful woman with slutty eyes and a happy smile looked back at me from the mirror. The reflection exuded debauchery and satisfaction. Having collected the dresses and sundresses I had selected earlier, we left the fitting room. I must have been struggling to contain my groans, because the saleswoman collecting the customers' unwanted clothes looked at us very closely. Her gaze was both disapproving and intrigued, and I thought I saw the corners of her lips twitch in a barely perceptible smirk. It was as if she'd heard every muffled groan we made and now saw their echoes on my face. That was the adventure I had. Then Misha and I went back to the apartment and, remembering what had happened in the fitting room, had sex again. Every touch now echoed the recent risk, making it that much more intense. We were experiencing that adrenaline rush again, and it drove his cock deeper into me, and my embrace grew tighter. I walked away from him with knees that wobbled. But now it was a pleasant weariness, mixed with a feeling of complete satisfaction and a light, nerve-tingling shudder from the realization of utter audacity. That wild, forbidden music was still playing inside me, and I knew we would return to its melody again and again.