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“Seriously, these?” I queried as I turned and modeled the high-waisted, flared-legged jeans.

“Those,” Jeff said with conviction.

“Why?” I eyed myself in the mirror.

“Dat ass,” he said, laughing.

I went into the dressing room, stripped off the wide-leg retro jeans and dropped them in my keep pile before trying on a skinny pair of capris in a faded wash.

I came back out. Only I had a boyfriend who could, and would, willingly, sit for an hour in a dressing-room chair to watch me try on jeans during Spring Break.

“How about these?”

He spun his finger in the air, and I did a twirl.

“Again, but move slower when we get to the part where you’re facing away from me.”

I rolled my eyes but laughed anyway. I felt the heat in my cheeks and a wave of arousal flow to my pussy. I knew damn well what his praise did for my ego and my soul. It was good for both. It was part of why I brought him along. I knew he’d be gaga over looking at my butt in jeans for an hour.

“Oh, yeah. Those, too.”

“That’s two pairs so far. That’s money.”

“It’s worth it,” Jeff said.

I glanced over my shoulder at him and waggled my ass. “Why?” I prompted, already knowing how he’d answer me.

“Dat ass,” he said and winked.

My face grew hotter, my pussy wetter, and I went back in for pair three: an ankle length, not quite as skinny, in a darker wash. I wriggled into the snug denim, already feeling my heartbeat in my cunt. He was turning me on, and I wanted him. He damn well knew it, too. I’d seen the look that crossed his face as I returned to the dressing room.

I came out in the final pair and literally posed in a way that allowed me to pop my hip and stick my ass out at him shamelessly.

He chuckled softly and a shiver ran up my spine. “I like the cut. Do they have them in a lighter color?”

Jeff is not a huge fan of dark wash jeans for some reason. “I think so.”

He came over and looked at the tag affixed to my rear. The whole time he inspected the piece of cardboard, he was boldly running his fingers over the seams of the pockets, the curve of my hips, the flare of my bottom. A little moan escaped my lips, and I tried to cover it with a sheepish laugh.

He wasn’t fooled for a moment.

“Be right back,” he said. Then he kissed the back of my neck, and my nipples spiked hard inside my cotton tee.

He returned with the same style of jeans but in a much lighter color. “Here. This will be much better, I bet.”

“My hero,” I said, batting my eyelashes.

“You know it.”

I ran my fingers over his scruffy beard and urged him closer in for a kiss before ducking back into the fitting room.

I tried on the new jeans. I had to admit they were a better look. I pranced back out, giving my booty some extra shake.

“There we go. Get them all. Tell the sales lady to ring ’em up!”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love with you and    dat ass.”

I hugged him and kissed his neck. “You know when we get home… ”

“I’m gonna fuck that ass until you come, sobbing,” he whispered darkly in my ear. There was some growl in his voice now, and his tone made the hair on the back of my neck prickle — in a good way.

“Yes,” I said against his chest. “Yes.”

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