No

"No, thanks. I think I'll just wait out here" Patrick answered. Alice
smiled and closed the door behind her. The clerk let out a quiet
giggle but never looked back his way. Patrick felt awkward. He
pretended to look at a clothing rack for a while until he noticed they
were nightgowns for over-sized women. He adjusted his hair in the
mirror. He paced. He looked at his watch. Only two minutes had passed
and he felt like he'd been there all day. Finally he took a seat in a
cheap folding chair a small way away from the dressing rooms.

"They really should have magazines," came a voice from behind him. He
turned and saw the clerk taking items from a wheeled rack and placing
them onto a large floor rack.

"What was that?" he asked, even though he had heard her perfectly.

"I said, they really need to have magazines or something. I can't tell
you how many bored and out of place men get stuck waiting around in
this store."

"Normally I carry a book with me. I left it in the car though,"
Patrick answered. Why would she want to know that? You idiot! He
screamed at himself.

"Not a bad idea. I'm Stacy," she walked over and offered her hand to
shake. God she was gorgeous!

"Thanks, er, uh, I'm Patrick. And that's my wife Alice. My wife—I'm
married. Yessir, eight years coming up soon!"

Stacy started to laugh and caught herself. "Congratulations? But I
don't think you were fishing for compliments, were you?"

Patrick stood up nervously, straightening his shirt and looking over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, she can't hear or see us. That's why I brought us over to these particular dressing rooms. They block the view from the rest of the store and the rooms themselves are closed in—there's no annoying gaps under the doors. So
you can do or say whatever you wish." The entire time Stacy talked to
Patrick she was inching her way forward slowly, never breaking eye
contact. "I'm used to bored, stuck-in-a-rut, husbands who do nothing
but stand around waiting on their wives and fantasizing about me. And
you're one of those husbands, aren't you? You thought about fucking me the moment you saw me. I know. I could see it in the way you started sweating. You know what? That turns me on so bad, in ways you probably can't comprehend with your nice safe sex life." And with that, Stacy brought her hand forward and grasped Patrick's now rock hard cock.

"Uh, listen, I love my wife. I really don't think…" his sentence trailed off as Stacy started working his balls through the tight jean material.

Stacy's warm breath could be felt on his neck as she stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "Play with fire, Patrick, and you get burned. Is that what you've been told? But without fire you can never get cooking." Then slowly she lowered herself to a squatting position, her right hand slowly trailing down the length of his body as the left hand continued to stroke and massage.

Suddenly the door to the changing room opened. "How does this blouse look, Patrick?" Thankfully two racks stood between Patrick and the changing rooms. It was almost as though Stacy had planned the whole thing. She probably did. "Great," he replied, his voice cracking.

"You don't think it makes me look fat?"

Stacy was biting Patrick's rod through the fabric and was slowly pulling down his zipper.

"Nothing makes you look fat," he was having trouble looking at Alice for want of looking at what was happening to him below.

"Good answer," replied Stacy quietly. "You make a great husband, don't you?"

Alice kept turning round in circles, studying herself in the mirror mounted in between the dressing rooms. "Okay, I think I might get this one." And with that she went back into the room. Before closing the door, she popped her head back out and said, "There's a couple of items in here that I'm having trouble figuring out the clasps. Can you see if there's a clerk around?"

"Sure, nothing else to do, right?" Patrick said.

"Honey, are you okay? You look nervous."

"I'm fine, just a little anxious to move on to the next store."

"Alright, but I'm going to be a little while longer. Why don't you go get your book out of the car?" And with that, Alice went back into the dressing room.

Stacy now had Patrick's cock out and was running one finger up and down its length, lightly tickling it. "My you are the pussy whipped one, aren't you?" she asked. "What say we make you just as addicted to my pussy too?" Stacy looked up at him, licked her lips seductively, and began to place the head of his penis in her mouth, never breaking eye contact.

It was all Patrick could do not to shoot is load right there. Then suddenly, Stacy stopped, let his tool pop back out of her mouth, and let the string of precum hang between her mouth and his tip. She licked her lips again and said, "But the missus needs help. What say, I go help her with some clasps, eh?"