The Punishment Of A Thief Girl

well guys here I am again..Today I will tell you how dangerous game I played last please pay attention and enjoy while reading..  I was looking for a birthday gift for my new girlfriend, in a  big dress shop I noticed in the power tool section a woman who's fine as frog's hair. 


This girl, as Lyle Lovett says, makes me think so fast I leave my thoughts behind. She's tall, maybe 5'9", and draped in a short dress and -- feature this -- cowboy boots. Who cares what I'm wearing. I moved in for a closer look, but she's headed out of the power tools and into the men's wear, so I followed at a distance. She picked up a cologne sample and slipped it into her purse, keept moving. Next, naturally, on to the women's lingerie. As she was moving through the racks, she glanced around and slipped a pair of panties into her purse, then headed for the dressing room. This was too much, and my mind was racing over the possibilities. I stood near the dressing room entrance, held my breath for 30 seconds, and slipped in. A light perspiration broke out across my forehead, I couldn''t believe what I was doing, and I suddenly opened her dressing room door. She looked up, gasped, I moved into the stall and quickly shut the door behind me. There was No time to waste and no room to f-uck up, I said,


"Mall security, ma'am," and quickly flashed my Waldenbooks Frequent Readers Card.


"We prosecute shoplifters. Turn around."


"But, but, but," she was stammering, I thought that was whacked, what was I doing?, and sternly "I said turn around!"


She faced the wall and I had a moment to catch my breath, kept my head  from spinning, and survey the scene.


Okay, okay, stop sweating and stay calm.


This girl's brown hair was shaking a bit, she were trembling, and her golden shoulders are tensed. My eye carried down the ridge of her spine

to a sweet round a-ss and shapely legs. I revised her height estimate up to 5'9 ". I haven't had the best look at her face, but from the glimpse

I've seen she's a beauty, a bit of the Teri Hatcher type. The flowery dress were hanging on a peg, and all she was wearing is a blue satin bra,

her cowboy boots, and the stolen panties. She's obviously picked a size too small, because her a-ss was spilling out around the blue fabric.

Enough looking, if I didn't keep this thing moving the spell would break and she might wise up and shout. 


"Hands against the wall, Miss, now." She hesitated, but after another



she put her hands up against the wall of the dressing room. She was shaking and stammering something, I lean in closer and heard her

whispering "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry." 


I said "All right, miss, that's enough.  You stole those panties didn't you?" She whispered yes as She noded


I said "We'll need to retain those panties for evidence," and she tentatively brought her hands down to remove them.


"Hands on the wall!" I yelled, and she quickly obeyed.


"You might be carrying a concealed weapon. I'll need to remove them myself."

She tensed up, as I leaned forward, and thougt -- what the f-uck am I doing?

This is the sort of behavior that lands your a-ss in jail,  But I pushed those thoughts aside and placed my thumbs under the strap of her

panties and slowly peeled them down, only an inch. I leaned close to her ear, and whispered,


"You know you can go to jail for this sort of thing"

-- hey, if I'm freaked out she should be too. She gulped, and actually



"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'll do anything you say."


I pulled  the panties down over the swell of her a-ss, and only with superhuman effort restrain myself from licking a cheek while I pull them

past thighs, calves, and boots.


"Step out of them," I said


She gingerly lifted one booted foot, then another, and from this angle I noticed just how big and sweet her a-ss is compared to the rest of her body.

I slipped the panties into my pocket, stood up, and said,


"That bra may be stolen too, it should come off."


I reached around, fumble with the clasp between her breasts, and released them from the confines of the satin. Now she was naked except for the cowboy boots, and she was not coming out of those if I had anything to say about it.  I was really  surprised it's gone this far, and couldn't think of what to say next. There was an awkward silence while I looked blankly at her beautiful back, and after a moment she looked over her shoulder at me and asked,


"Were you going to search me?" This was almost too easy and I briefly wondered how many people she was f-ucking. 


Hush," I said, "I'll do the talking. What's your name?" She mumbled something that sounds like "vomit," and I said




She spoken up a  bit, "Manolya."


"All right, Manolya ," I told her, "spread your legs."


She did, awkwardly, and I reached my hands around to hold the fullness of her breasts in my hands. She gasped, and I squeezed them gently. I slowly let my finger tips drift over her stomach, her thighs, and the cheeks of her a-ss.


"Sit down Manolya," and I was motion her to the dressing room bench.


She sat, and I got my first good look at her face. She was breathtaking: big brown eyes, creamy skin, and pillowy lips. She was looking up at me

expectantly and I knew that no matter what, I had to ball this woman. 


"What should we do with you, Manolya?" I said.


She looked down at the floor, hesitated, mumbled, "I don't want to go to jail." (Me neither, I was thinking).


I scratched my chin, pull a face, and said ,


"Maybe we can keep you out of jail. How much are you willing to cooperate?" As I said this I sat down

on the bench next to her, close enough to smell her nervousness.


"What should we do here to keep you out of jail?" I asked, softening my tone.


"Are you going to punish me?" she said softly, looked away.  "Tell me what to do. I'll do... what you say." 


"I don't know Manolya," I said. "What do you think I should do about this?"


Manolya shrugred, but I reached up and held her chin, looked her in the eye, and said,


"I think you need to take this seriously, Manolya -- and that means being part of the solution."


"Can't you just make the decision," she said.


"I don't want to right now. I'd rather not."


"I am making the decisions Manolya, but I need to see that you understand the meaning of what you did," I said.


I know, I know, pretty weak, but I'm still nervous that things could go wrong and I'm buying time to think.


"Well, I guess," she mumbled, "I guess it's all about me taking the panties. So maybe I need to be punished for that."


She looked at me, our eyes met.


"That's right Manolya. Since the panties covered your bottom, maybe that's where we should begin," I said.


"Bend over my lap, Manolya."


She tensed up, "Why?"


"Just do as I say, Manolya."


"What are you going to do?"


After a long look, I pulled her across my lap. She trieed to twist, but strength is on my side, and  I positioned her face down across my lap. She

struggled a bit and attempted to reach back, but has no purchase. The toes of her boots were just off the floor on my right; her small waist

and golden round bottom struggled before me. I could feel her breathing, in and out, and I could feel the heat from her body as she tried to gain

control. I waited her out, and after a time she quieted down. Her bottom was soft, round, and very vulnerable. Finally, she waited, supine on my lap. 


"Spread your legs, Manolya." She hesitated, and I smacked her lightly on the a-ss. She complied by moving her legs slightly. I spreaded my hands

across her bottom and caressed her roundness, feeling the softness and texture of her prime a-ss. I shifted her a little until her bottom  was centered over my knees. She struggled again.


"Is this how you obey me?" I asked.


"Spread your bottom Manolya; I want to see it all.


Use your hands."


After a pause she reached back and pulled her cheeks just a little. I gave her a-ss a sharp stinging slap on one cheek.


"Owwww!" she cried, "That hurts!" She began to struggle again, and I held her to me, waited her out.


"Spread your bottom, Manolya, do it now."


After another moment, she reached back and pulled her cheeks much farther apart.


"There, can you see everything now?" she said, with attitude. 


"Yes, that's fine, Manolya. Just keep holding yourself open."


I could see the small, tight rosebud between her golden cheeks, with its tiny folds narrowing in the center, and below it the moist crease of her p-ussy.

Damn this girl is perfect.


"Very well, Manolya. You can take her hands away."


"About time," she said. Her upturned a-ss was relaxed -- soft and round. But when her hands gone down, I spanked her, hard. She cried out in surprise and tried to cover herself with her hands, but I grabbed her wrists and held them together at the small of her back.


"You -- SLAP -- will -- SLAP -- do -- SLAP -- as -- SLAP -- I -- SLAP -- said!"


Her bottom jiggled helplessly as she cried out, taking the blows, her heels kicking in the air.


"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed  her bottom quivering,

l do as you say!"


I let go of her wrists and, after a moment, gently spreaded her bottom as she whimpered to herself. Carefully holding her cheeks apart, I suck on my middle finger and gently touch the center.


"Oh God -- not my a-ss... Please not my a-ss!"


She flinched, and tried to clench her cheeks together, but she didn't have the strength. I slapped her again, hard, and pushed against the dark rosebud between her cheeks. She twitched and squirmed, trying to evade my probing finger, and I quickly spanked her again, slapping her sweet wide upturned a-ss with my open hand.


"Hold still, Manolya, we're not finished."


"Is that it?" she asked, with attitude, "Is it my a-ss you want?"


She turned her head and looked back at me. Her face was angry and streaked with tears.


"Of course, Manolya," I said, as I think to myself -- what the f-uck else would A-ssmaster McStuff want?  --


 "Now hold still."


I reached for her  purse on the ground and openws it up, hoping to find... bingo! A bottle of lotion rolled out and I twisted the cap off, applying lotion to my fingers. Spreaded her cheeks with the fingers of my left hand, I took a bit more lotion and daubed it around the center. She flinched at the first cold taste of it, but then -- since there' was nothing she couls do about it -- quieted down as I lightly stroke. Her a-sshole was darker than the surrounding skin, and tight, so tight -- a little kitten's mouth. I ma-ssaged the opening gently, feeling the texture and the tender softness of her opening. At first she was  completely closed -- clenched tight against my gentle invasion, but I continued to ma-ssage the center with my  fingertip, occasionally adding a drop or two of lotion as lubricant.


After awhile, Manolya began to let go -- out of fatigue if nothing else -- and I pressed into her just a tiny bit. As soon as I feel her opening to my finger, I started stroking her back with my other hand, caressing her gently, smoothly.


"That's right," I whispered , "such a good girl Manolya." Gently stroking, soothing, and all the time pressing slowly but firmly into her fleshy bottom. I continued for a few moments and then pushed firmly into her a-ss -- steady and deep, right up into her. Manolya arched her back, and clutched to my legs, crying out,


 "Oh my dear Jesus God... My a-ss -- you're... in.. my... a-ss!"


-- and clamped my finger like a warm wet vise as her tight squirmy bottom tried to refuse me. She trembled and held onto the bench as I held her to me, slowly sinking my finger down into her cheeks until I buried two or three inches into her -- her tight ring of muscle twitching spastically around my finger. After she quieted down again and became some what used to my finger up her a-ss, I probed deeper, moving in and out as she started to pant a bit.

"Oh my a-ss... my poor bottom... what are you doing to me?" she cried.


 I pushed back into her with more lotion, this time with two fingers. She had to open completely -- I wanted her bottom to accept me as a natural fact. Her face was  tense and streaked with tears, but they would dry. She had a little control left, but she needed to lose it all. I reached around her waist with my other hand and began to explore the soft flesh of her tummy... and lower, the firm naked mound between her legs. I found her little button and run a finger up and down the entrance

to her p-ussy. I slided a finger into her vagina, leaned down and kissed her cheek.


She panted again, and said , "You're  making me... hot."


I could feel her muscles tighten and close around my fingers. She was very slippery, front

and rear. I leaned down and whispered in her ear:


"Do you know what I'm going to do to you Manolya?"


"Do you want to f-uck me... in the a-ss?" She looked back at me from the corner of her eyes and clamped down hard on my fingers, which was still  deep within her.


"You'd like that, wouldn't you..." she whispered, "I think maybe you really like my a-ss. All men like my a-ss."


This girl was speaking truth and I am rock hard to hear it. She pushed back with her a-ss against my hand and shoved my fingers up in her as far as they would go, groaning as her eyes close halfway and her body jerks.

She looked at me with half-closed eyes, whispering,


 "That's how I want you to put it up inside me. Like that. Only not your finger; I want to feel the thickness of your ****, hard and slippery inside me. I want to feel the head of it pushing me open for the rest to follow. I hope you have a big ****."


"That's it Manolya," I said, "You can show me how sorry you are by taking

it all. Now stand up." 


She did, and I stood with her. We faced each other and I kissed her on the mouth, running my hands over her breasts and stomach.


"Now Manolya, turn around and put your hands on the bench, that's it."


She did, and I just had to pause to admire the scene. A fit girl in goofy cowboy boots, standing straight legged and bent at the waist, hair hanging in a beautiful face, supported by fit legs, smooth skin, and a big soft round edible a-ss just was waiting to be sucked and spread open. I kneeled behind her, spreaded her cheeks with my hand, and licked around the rim of her a-sshole. All resistance is gone as she leaned back into my face and my tongue slipped into her a-ss. This only gone on for a minute or so, because I suddenly remembered that we was in a dressing room and we needed to get this show on the road before we get caught.  Plus I couldn't wait to bust her a-ss. I stood up, unzipped my trousers, and placed my hands on her bottom. It was wide and soft and glorious, and I had to get into it now.


"Manolya, spread your cheeks." She reached back, still bent over, and without much coaching opened her a-ss to again expose her dark a-sshole to my eyes. Taking the lotion again, I drop some onto my fingers, smearing the fluid over the head of my d-ick and up the shaft. I touched her rosebud with a

fingerful of lotion and gently pushed in. At first her ring contracted, and then relaxed. With drawing my finger, her rosebud was left slightly dilated and I repositioned move my **** until it rested heavily at the softened opening of her bottom. Manolya took a breath as I griped the cheeks of her a-ss with my hands. I pressed at her hole, focusing the weight of my body into a single point at the tip of my d-ick.


She was slippery and tight, but as I pushed just a bit I can feel a softness -- a weakness I hadn't felt before. My **** was a slick, fat padded stick about to violate her.


"Manolya, open your cheeks more for me."


 She did, and took an other deep breath.


"Relax Manolya. Can you feel my hard big ****?"


"Yes," she said, in a tight voice, "I can feel you."


"Am I in the right place?"


She let out her breath. "Yes... you're pushing right on my -- my



"On your what?"


"On my a-sshole."


"How does it feel Manolya?"




"I want you to open yourself to me Manolya. Unclench your muscle."


 Her a-sshole was hard to enter, and my **** slipped away. I took myself in hand, and pressed against her opening again. She whimpered, stiff with tension. I pressed my hips forward firmly and held her, forcing the head of my **** against her ring and -- POP -- she cried out as I entered.


"Oh Jesus God my poor bottom... you're in me!" she cried as her tight, squirmy a-ss clamped down on my ****. I pressed, pressed, pressed and my d-ick slowly slided into her a-ss until I was  halfway in, buried between her golden cheeks.


"Oh god I can't do this it feels like I have to..."


 she cried as her a-sshole twitched spastically around my thickness. A tear or two traces down from the corner of her eyes as I pressed again.


"Let go, Manolya," I said. "Relax your bottom. Open yourself to me like a



It was all I could do not to shoot a load up her a-ss right away. I probed deeper as she quietly given in to me, slowly moving my d-ick in and out as she panted and beganto relax. I watched in fascination as my d-ick disappeared up her dark a-sshole. When I slowly pulled back out, the ring of her a-ss hugged my d-ick and stretched out, a hostess reluctant to let a dinner guest depart. I noticed that she was becoming aroused again. Her nipples was erect, her face flushed and sweaty.  I pressed forward again and that's it -- her a-ss was impaled and her sphincter twitched around the base of my d-ick.


She was weeping a little,  and her p-ussy was slick with juice. She didn’t know how to feel about

this humiliation -- a first cla-ss buttf-ucking in a semi-public venue if ever there were one -- but she was getting into it regardless. Suffice it to say that this woman had no idea what she was getting into when she stolen the panties. I was still moving with the slowest strokes possible, when she whispered,


 "Yes, please yes -- do it to me... F-uck my bottom."


"F-uck your what?"


"F-uck my a-ss. Please buttf-uck me. Please do it." I'm a sucker for trash

talk from a woman, “


and I pressed again. She offered herself up to me and I lower my hips until I was pressed against the cheeks of  her a-ss, then pulled out, press in, pull out, a bit faster, a bit harder. Her a-ss was a soft pillow for hungry hips to come home to. Her opening was like a ring sliding up the length of my d-ick and she groaned warm and tight.


 "Go ahead, push it.... push it" she said thickly, "f-uck my a-ss... f-uck my pretty a-ss."


I kissed her on the neck as I began to stroke harder and harder.


"I want your d-ick all the way up my a-ss" she said as she put her hands back on

the bench to steady herself. What the hell, I thought?, and I started banging

away on her a-sshole.


 "Oww! Oww! Oww!" and she reached a hand between her legs to rub her p-ussy as I f-ucked her a-ss for all I was worth. She started shouting


"I want your f-ucking d-ick -- f-uck me in the f-ucking a-ss with all of your f-ucking d-ick!"


A wave of lust and fulfillment rised in me and I was very close. Her bottom spastically gripped the base of my d-ick and milked it. She was chanting, it's a rhythm now,


"f-uck me... f-uck me... f-uck my a-ss... f-uck me deep"


and she pressed back into my d-ick as I lurched forward, spearing her dark sweetness with my entire length and I thought I could hear someone knocking on the door but no matter because she said the

magic words: F-UCK IT LIKE YOU OWN IT and I was there and it came pumping  from my balls up the shaft and spew violently past the ring of her a-sshole into her body, spastically filling her soft upturned a-ss with my thickness, pouring myself up into her wet sweet golden bottom while she weeped and shaked and cried yes...


"Excuse me. Will you be making a purchase?"


I heard a voice outside the dressing room door said as we began to catch our breath.


"Yes," I said,

"but we'll need a few more minutes to make up our minds..."


 and we was both sweating and shaking and she leaned forward onto the bench, her a-ss was still in the air as I pulled my softening d-ick out of her. Her distended a-sshole took a moment to close, and I pat her lightly on the cheek. 


"Well," I said , "it appears we've rehabilitated you Manolya. Although if

you persist in shoplifting I'd encourage you to do it in MY store.


" She giggled, panted, rested her head on the bench. 


"What about the panties?" she said, and I was thinking -- yeah, what about

those f-ucking panties?


I couldn't walk out with them in my pocket; they're stolen. And they sure could't go back on the rack.


"Manolya, we're just going to have to conceal the evidence," I said,


and pull the panties out of my pocket before wadding them tightly into a ball. Her a-sshole was still loose, slicked with lotion, and my c-um was  beginning to leak out of it.


 "Think of this as your own personal pocket, Manolya," I said.


"Open your cheeks for me once more."


Amazingly, even though she gasped "no" she placed her hands, one on each cheek, and spreaded herself to reveal her a-sshole to me for the last time. I pressed the balled panties against her hole and couldn't believe she was actually letting me do this, but after a moment's resistance her a-sshole gave

way and the satin started to disappear into her. I enjoyed  the sight of this woman, naked but for her cowboy boots and an absurd blue tail, and I left just a bit of the satin sticking out of her a-ss.  She stood, blushed, and began to reach behind her for the panties but I gently reach for her hand and said

one word:




She was beautiful: face flushed and sweating, breasts made for kissing, a flat, fit stomach, and a chunky, satin-plugged, c-um-filled a-ss. I handed her the bra  and the dress.


"I'll be going now," I said, and softly kissed her on the mouth.


"Wait, will I see you again?" she said.


I thought  about it for a moment, and told  her I don't think so, because her sentence has been reduced on account of good behavior. She smiled, and said, "But what about probation?" She whispered her phone number to me, we kissed once more, and I slided out of the dressing room.

And I wondered as I walked out of the lingerie department, past the scowling  clerk and past a real store security officer and past the gray-haired shoppers, charge cards in hand:


how many people on the street love the dangerous games as I do? Who on the street -- seeing Manolya and the awkward walk she would have for the next few hours -- who would suspect that her a-ss had been as thoroughly f-ucked as an a-ss can be? By a stranger? And that she now, for the next hour or two at any rate, wore a satin tail as a badge of the encounter? I wonder.

hotsinglestud hotsinglestud
26-30, M
Feb 23, 2010