Max glanced at his watch again, then over at his mother, who casually lifted another stupid tea cup off the shelf and examined it from all angles. "Mom, are you seriously going to look at every single set of dishes in the store?" They'd already been in the same housewares section of the same department store for almost half an hour now. On a Saturday afternoon. And all 16 year-old Max could think about was how much fun he was NOT having at the skate park with his friends.

"If that's what it takes to find the right one... yes," she said, somewhat absently, as if used to dealing with being rushed.

Max just rolled his eyes. Great. The weather was beautiful outside. The mall and this store in particular were nearly empty. And he was stuck here with his mother. All because he'd asked for a new pair of jeans.

"But," she added, "if you don't feel like standing here annoying me all afternoon, you can go poke around in that computer store you spend so much time in. Find a new game or something."

"Seriously? Awesome. Later!" Before she could change her mind, Max darted around the corner, fleeing from the housewares section at top speed. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember where the exit into the mall was, and got himself turned around. He passed the hardware section, the curtain section, the children's clothes section, then rounded another corner and stopped. Which way was it?

Max was relatively tall for his age, about 5'10", but even so, he couldn't spot the exit from where he stood, and guessed that the island of changing rooms in the middle of the store must be blocking his view. So rather than keep following the linoleum path around the outside, he decided to cut directly through the women's clothing section, past the overstuffed racks of blouses and skirts, and see where that took him.

As he reached the island and turned left, Max snagged his foot on a long dress that had clearly NOT been hung back onto the rack very well, and because he was rushing, immediately crashed hands-forward to the carpeted floor, pulling the dress and a few more like it loudly down with him, hangers clattering everywhere. "Son of a..."

"Hello?" A female voice.

Max paused as he found his feet.

"Hello, is somebody out there?" The voice was coming from the women's dressing room.

Max stood the rest of the way, and cautiously moved toward the door. "Ummm... yes?"

"Can you come in here for a minute?" the voice asked.

"Ummm... no?" he replied.

"Why not?" Why not? Was this woman serious?

"Well... maybe because it's a girl's dressing room?"

"Is there anybody else out there?" she asked.

Max looked around. "No."

"Well, there's nobody else in here either. So what difference does it make? I just need somebody's opinion about something."

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yes. Please, it'll just take a few minutes. I promise."

Max shook his head, then looked around again, hoping to find somebody else -- preferably female -- that he could push this task on to. It occurred to him, of course, that he could simply ignore the request, walk away, and the woman with the disembodied voice would never know who he was. But for better or worse, he knew that his conscience would never let him get away with it. His parents had raised him to never deny a good deed.

"Are you still there?" the voice asked.

"I'm here," Max said. "Fine, I'm coming in." And before he knew it, he was around the corner, looking at a row of eight changing stalls, four on each side. He stood there for a moment, wondering which one she was in, then saw a pretty blonde head poke out of the last door on the left.

"I'm back here," she said, smiling brightly through red lipstick.

Max ambled cautiously down the row of stalls until he reached the last one, and peered into the open doorway. The twenty-something woman standing in the back of the stall was petite, six inches or so shorter than himself, with blue-green eyes and delicate features. She held a dress on a hanger in each hand, one bright red and the other a shade of green.

"Thank you SO much," the woman said.

"You're welcome," Max said. "For what?"

"Oh... right. Sorry. I just can't decide which of these dresses to buy."

Max waited to hear what this had to do with him, while at the same time wondering -- as he often did these days -- what this very attractive woman would look like naked.

"So," the woman continued, as if she'd expected him to respond already, "do you have any opinion?" As if to help, she held first the one, then the other, in front of her, draping each over her slim frame. It reminded him of the paper dolls his younger sister used to play with.

"Honestly," Max said, "I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask."

She seemed confused. "Why is that?"

"Well... because I'm a GUY. They both look fine to me."

"Exactly," she replied. "Who should know better what looks good on a woman than a guy? Just give me your gut opinion."

"I..." Max suddenly felt put-upon. "I really don't know."

"What if I actually put them both on? Would that make it easier?"

"I guess," he said. "Maybe."

"Okay then. Close the door."

Max began to walk out of the stall.

"No, silly," the woman said, hanging up the two dresses. "From the inside."

"But... don't you have to change?"

"Yes. And? I'm not shy." As if to prove this, she shouldered past him and pushed the door closed, then immediately pulled off the brown halter top she'd been wearing just moments before. To Max's surprise and delight, it turned out she wasn't wearing a bra under the top, and his eyes nearly fell out of his head at the sight of her exposed and perky C-cup breasts. But if she noticed either this or the instant tent that grew in the crotch of his loose cargo shorts, she didn't let on. "You might want to sit down, though," she said. "There's not that much room in here."

Max did as he was told, lowering himself onto the bench without removing his eyes from her bare chest for even a moment. It wasn't the first time he'd ever seen a pair of tits in the flesh... but almost. The only other pair had been his older sister's, and those only accidentally, for a few seconds at a time -- as long as it took her to slam her bedroom door shut against his prying eyes. But this woman didn't seem to either notice or mind if he stared, and he intended to take advantage of that for as long as possible.

As she pulled down her tight jeans down over her hips, Max got a profile view of the woman's perky breasts hanging slightly away from her body, just two feet from his face, and his erection grew even harder than before. Iff that were even possible. She wriggled the jeans down her thighs and past her knees, until they settled in a bunch around her ankles. Only then did she stand up straight again, bracing herself against the wall, naked except for a tiny red thong and the jeans at her feet, which she deftly stepped out of, then paused with her free hand hovering in the air, bent daintily at the wrist.

Max was so busy taking in the sight of so much exposed fair skin, the sensuous curve of her hips, the lean flatness of her belly, the swell of her pink-tipped breasts, and the smooth inviting line of her neck... that he failed to realize she was now actually watching him watching her. It was only after she hadn't moved for at least thirty seconds that he finally thought to look up at her face. When he did, he saw that she was smiling impishly down at him, a bemused expression on her face. "Getting a good look, are you?"

Max blushed hotly, then dropped his gaze to the floor. "Sorry."

The woman giggled. "Sorry for what? I said I wasn't shy."

"I know but... I shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what? Stare? Shouldn't I be the one to decide that?"

So, Max thought, is she saying that I can stare? It sounded like it. He figured he'd test the waters, and glanced up again, pleased to see that she was still standing there in the same position, still leaning against the wall, still with her hand in the air, still nearly naked... and still smiling at him.

"There," she said. "See? The world didn't end."

He laughed in spite of himself, and tried to keep looking at her adorable face, but his eyes would wander down every few seconds as if they couldn't help themselves, imprinting what they saw into his memories, for later reference.

"So who's your friend?" the woman asked.

Max frowned, confused. "Sorry, what?"

"Your friend." She pointed to his lap, to the obvious tent of his erection. "Does he have a name?"

Max smiled at the playfulness of this. "Um. Yeah. It's..." He quickly leafed through a list of names in his head, struggling for anything that sounded right. Finally, he landed on one. "Dirk. His name is Dirk."

The woman smiled. "Dirk, eh? I like that. It's a good strong name."

"Thanks," Max said. "I mean... Dirk says thanks."

"Does he? I can't hear him." She held a hand up to one ear, and made as if to listen intently. "No... still can't hear him."

"Trust me. He's screaming it."

"Is he? Well, now I really want to hear it. Maybe if I get a little closer." With this, the nearly-naked woman took a step toward Max, and lowered herself smoothly to her knees in front of him. She leaned forward, cupped her ear again, and held it no more than six inches from his crotch.

Max played along. "You HAVE to hear him now, right?"

She shook her head, as if dejected. "No. Do you think..." She trailed off.

"What?" Max asked.

"Well. Maybe the shorts are muffling his voice?"

"Oh. Well. Yeah, maybe. Should I..." This time, he trailed off, afraid to make the first suggestion that popped into his head, on the off chance that he wasn't guessing correctly what was on her mind.

"Yes," she said, without hearing more. "You should take them off."

"Um... okay." As he reached down to unzip his shorts, Max was half thrilled, half terrified. This was definitely a first for him. No woman had ever seen one of his erections before, and here he was, getting ready to show his to a complete stranger. This is crazy, he thought.

The childlike exuberance on the woman's face increased as he finished opening his fly, then the button, then tucked his thumbs under the band of his boxers, and pushed both those and the shorts down, quickly, past his hips, past his ass, and down to his knees. His steel 8-inch cock sprang up instantly, jutting at a 45-degree angle. Like a dowsing rod, it pointed directly at the woman's face, which shone more brightly than ever.

"Let me get those," she said, reaching forward to pull his shorts and boxers down the rest of the way, down his legs and off over his sneakered feet. But her eyes never left his erection, quivering there in front of her. "Dirk," she said, speaking to it now. "It's so nice to meet you."

Young as he might be, Max was wise enough to realize that for the moment, things seemed to playing out just fine without him. And so he wisely kept his mouth shut, and waited to see what would happen next.

"What's that?" she said to Dirk, "You'd like to shake hands? Of course, how rude of me." With this, she reached a dainty and well-manicured hand forward, and much to Max's delight, gripped his erection firmly, then gave a quick "shake" up and down. At her sudden touch, Max almost came instantly. There was a slight surge, but he somehow held it back. If not for the fact that he'd already jerked off twice that day -- once when he first woke up, and once more as he looked at some porn online after lunch -- he wasn't sure if he could have kept himself from exploding all over her.

Despite not wanting to cum too soon, Max hoped she wouldn't stop holding his cock... and she obliged. "Oh, Dirk," she said, playfully stroking him, "what a big boy you are. So muscular... and hard. You must work out." Her thumb teased the shaft up one side, resting where it met the head, and smoothed his pre-cum into the most sensitive spot. "What's that?" she asked, hamming it up. "You'd like a kiss? I don't know, Dirk, we did just meet, after all, and I... well, yes, I do feel like we've known each other a long time, but... of course I care about you... well... okay, maybe just one little kiss."