David’s FreezeTime Remote

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(It was summer 2007, and as a nineteen year old boy I was about to stay with family friends for the first time in the big city. As a country boy I had always been a bit shy when it came to girls and had not really even felt one up. This was about to change when I found something in the mall)


My silver blue Wolfhound bus slid into the outer city terminal. It was streaked with prairie dust and stank of hot diesel fumes. I had gotten on it at North Summit Junction, my hometown, four states to the west and was eager to find a restroom. With my backpack slung across one shoulder I walked through the crowded waiting area, past the pay-phone booths and taxi ranks, across a vast parking lot into the St.Clair Center Shopping Mall.

The stores were bustling with city folk in smart business suits and formal wear. There were also suburban wives with their young kids and a few matronly types. Grandmothers in sportswear and their overweight husbands wearing Red Sox caps shifted slowly around. There were well dressed middle-aged women leisure-shopping, moving in time to the incessant Country music. This was spilling out of hidden speakers in the tall lightweight roofed structure of the central atrium with its fountain.

Near the Antique Carousel I made my way to the restroom where I freshened up. Having washed my hands I noticed on the floor, next to some trash, a black cell-phone which someone had dropped. I picked it up and returned to the main concourse. I sat down and ate some potato chips while checking it out.

It was not a regular phone. It only had three buttons. ‘FreezeTime’ , ‘SloMo’ and ‘RegularTime’.

“Shoot.” I thought, “It’s a freaking TV remote.” I was just about to throw it away when I thought I’d have some fun while waiting for my family friends to collect me from outside Sears in about half an hour’s time. I had a notion that if I could find a store selling electronic stuff I could cause some ‘minor chaoses’ by turning things off, switching channels etc and so forth.

“Well my friends,” I thought as I walked into the ‘First Circuits’ electrical store “Here’s Davy,” smiling insanely, imagining I was Jack Nicholson. I wandered through the ‘entertainment electronics suite’ to where the large-screen HiDefinition TVs were located and sat down and watched an all-action DVD sampler showing some guy jumping off a moving truck onto an RUV and doing other stuff. This was a three minute loop and I watched it several times. The store was deserted.

A smartly dressed sales assistant wandered over. She was about 25 years of age, a few inches shorter than me, and had blonde hair styled like a lawyer. She wore a two piece red ‘skirt-suit’ over an appealing white plunging vee top. She had nice boobs. Her skirt was pleated and quite long and kind of flared. I thought it was too long for her age or height.

She looked fine to me, though, having never seen many women close to my age in my home town. My teenage zits used to put off any woman under thirty, or over thirty, for that matter. This sales assistant certainly was no ‘Monet’, not to me at least.

“Can I help you sir?” she enquired. I said I was just checking out the ‘big-screens’. She clearly could see from my dusty denim clothes and backpack that I was an out-of-towner, probably a mallrat bahis siteleri and that she was wasting her time. She stood next to me, her hand on the back of the sofa, watching the DVD with me, hoping she would embarrass me into leaving.

I felt around, in my back pack, for my newly acquired remote and secretly pressed the FreezeTime button and watched the guy on the truck remain suspended in mid air. I smiled, turned round and looked up at her expecting her to apologise for the technical hitch.

To my amazement she just stood there with a fixed expression on her face, her mouth partly open. I told to her that the TV had a fault and grinned again. She remained fixed in the same position with a frozen appearance on her face as if she had suddenly become a living statue. No way had she had a seizure or else she would be writhing about on the deck and screaming off. She stayed like this for at least a couple of minutes.

“Miss, miss, MISS!” I said loudly, thinking she would suddenly revive. “Do me a favour and wake up or something.” I became quite worried but had not figured out that it may have been my remote that could have caused this situation. I needed to get help. Looking around the store I saw another assistant sitting at her desk in front of a computer similarly dressed to the first one.

I ran over to her, weaving around the display units. The screen was down and her hands were motionless on the keyboard. “Miss, miss?” I moved my hands in front of her face and snapped my fingers several times but there was no reaction. I pushed her, but it was like pushing against solid cement. Although her clothes seemed to move, her body was completely stiff and unyielding.

I touched her on her hand expecting it to be suddenly withdrawn but it remained there like a tailor’s mannequin hand. I touched it again and it was warm, and felt like normal skin, and it moved over her sinews and tendons just as in a moving person. I rubbed her fingers and tried to prize them off the keyboard. The whole scenario was freaking me out.

Moving out of the store entrance I was faced by other living statues, a guy and his son, then three more and as I got to the balustrade overlooking the large central atrium. I noticed that the whole mall was full of frozen people. Nothing moved. There was no music. Outside I could see no movement either and even was aware of birds frozen in mid flight.

I ran out of the St. Clair Center, across the parking lot, to the bus terminal and here everything was just as it had been in the mall. Passengers were frozen in the act of boarding the Wolfhound. One guy had tripped over a suitcase and was in mid-fall. It was like something out of a sci-fi movie.

“OMG,” I whispered to myself several times staring around wildly. I decided to return to ‘First Circuits’ and figure things out. Feeling hungry I helped myself to candy and cookies from a market stall next to the fountain. I noticed how silent everywhere was and I was amazed to see that the fountain had frozen, each little droplet and ripple defined in mid-air, minutely detailed, sparkling. It was fascinating and I spent several minutes admiring it from every angle.

Back in ‘First Circuits’ I found the sofa where I had left my backpack and the sales assistant in the same pose. Her name canlı bahis siteleri tag said ‘Alison’ and underneath in green lettering it said ‘always a pleasure’. I sat next to Alison for about an hour staring at her and the truck guy in mid-air. I looked at my watch and it still said 2.46pm.

Noticing the time I jumped up, “Whoa, OMG, for freaking-out-loud,” I screamed. Time had actually stopped. I thought no way, no way had I missed the ‘end of the world’ and that zillions of people on the planet were stuck on ‘freeze-frame’ except for me. “Alison!!” I shouted in her ear at close range, but she didn’t stir. “Alison, for freak sake, Alison!!”

I studied her face. It was A.D.Orable for an ‘old’ lady in her twenties. I pushed her hair around, messing with it, and tried restyling it so it flopped over her face. She still looked like a lawyer so I brushed it back again. Her neck was very long and slim. She had small ears.

I became spooked when I stared into her eyes. Was she actually seeing me? was she hearing me? I backed off slowly and stood behind her. I touched her suit jacket, then pushed her firmly, but she stood their just like her cement friend behind the computer.

“No way is she going to suddenly wake up,” I thought, and I began to stare at her shapely slim legs which were slightly apart. I squatted down behind her and touched her warm ankles. The flesh coloured pantyhose was very fine denier. I ran one hand up her leg as far as her knee where it disappeared under her skirt. “Well Alison if you are going to slap my face, you’ll do it now.” I said, hoping she’d wake up.

She didn’t; so I decided to continue my lingerie exploration still further. My hand went higher up her skirt until it found a slippery nylon underslip. I could feel a fine lacy hem and thought that she clearly had class. Further up, my hand found a suspender clip attached to a stocking welt where her stockings ended at her thighs.

I had never seen or touched stockings in my life. My buddy, Paul, once discovered in his grandfather’s basement, when they were clearing it on his death, a stash of dirty magazines. These generally had images of young seductive women scantily clad but always wearing black stockings and garter belts. Mrs. Frankhoffer burnt them eventually.

In my ‘Small No-Town West of Nowhere’ girls never wore pantyhose, skirts etc except for Easter or Thanksgiving. In fact they hardly ever wore skirts or dresses, period.

Angela Kramer, and three of her cheer-leader friends Lucy, Noleen and Sue, wore Sunday skirts to a pageant last Fall and guys caused a near riot mainly because they were almost crawling on their hands and knees trying to see up them. That’s how sad things were.

My penis had begun to stir impressively and I unbuckled my belt and pushed my jeans and boxers down to my knees. Standing behind Alison I shuffled so that my erection rubbed against the comparatively coarse red fabric of her skirt. I lifted both her skirt and petticoat and let them drop over my penis which acted as a hook which stopped them returning to their normal modest position.

I moved from side to side disappointed that I did not have an audience to witness real ‘Western Manhood’ in action. I squeezed my erection between the folds of her skirt and petticoat and canlı bahis jacked -off furiously until I almost came, easing back when I thought about what lay within reach.

I lifted up her lower clothes and tucked her skirt and petticoat under her jacket top to stop them spilling down. My nineteen-year old brain was on hyper-drive figuring out what to do next.

“My, my, what have we here?” I thought as her stockings, garter-belt and tight white lace panties finally came into view.

“Shoot.” I whooped as I shuffled about like an insane patient from a ‘self-abuse rehab clinic’.

I admired my work from a distance. Alison ‘always a pleasure’ stood staring at truck-man in free fall with her skirt and petticoat up to her waist and her stockings, suspenders and panties on show ready for me. I coaxed my penis into full erection mode and approached her from the rear.

I noticed that there was a small gap at the top of the thighs just under her panties. It was a small triangular gap of air just large enough to slide my penis into. I eased myself between her thighs which remained soft despite Alison being the clear winner of the ‘Frozen Girl Competition of 2007’ I slid into the gap which pulled tightly on my foreskin exposing my glans.

I kissed Alison on her lawyers hair and apologised for what I was about to do. I pushed and pulled, holding onto her attractive ass and hips. I bucked around and got the angle sorted then I was off. Three long minutes later I orgasmed great globs of sticky slimy semen all down the inside and front of her thighs. As I pulled out, my penis dragged strings of semen over her panties and onto her buttock cheeks. I kissed her again saying sorry she had not been around to enjoy my attentions.

I cleaned up with tissues from ‘frozen computer- woman’s’ desk. I decided guiltily to clean Alison up too, so I wiped as much semen and seminal fluid as possible from her pelvic and pubic areas. And rearranged her skirt and underwear as best I could. When I had finished I stared up at her from the sofa and whispered, “Thanks a lot city-doll,”

I sat there for a while still trying to figure out what to do next. I got a load of personal stuff out of my back pack, and repacked it thinking that I would be living in this frozen hell for millions of years if not forever.

The remote fell out, bounced off the sofa and onto carpet. I picked it up and decided to watch truck-man make it to the RUV one more time.

I hit the ‘Regular Time’ button and there he was landing heavily on the RUV hood yet again. What a guy!

“Excuse me Sir,” said Alison. “Are you really interested in this HD TV system or are you looking for something more mobile, such as a MP3 player, perhaps?” I looked at her incredulously, wide mouthed. “Shoot, son-of-a-bitch yeehaa,” I thought to myself, emulating and repeating my late grandpappy’s phraseology. “You are alive. You are breathing. You are beautiful, I’m so deliriously happy, I am in love with you.”

“No that’s OK Miss, I’m leaving now.” I said, thankful she was alive.

I noticed she was uncomfortable with something between her legs, and grimaced and smiled at me at the same time. She moved in a self-conscious way, clearly noticing some discomfort from her pubic region. She was massaging her crotch.

I slung my backpack across my shoulder, noticed it was 2.52 pm., and started looking for the Sears entrance amongst the crowds of milling people. OMG I was relieved.

I dropped the remote in the fountain.


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