I know that as a bloke, I'm not supposed to like going round the shops with my other half but to be honest, how else is she going to know what I like her to wear? Admittedly, there does come a point after you've looked at the same outfit for the eleventh time and confirmed that "Yes, you look great in it and so much better than in the other fifteen you've tried on today," that it can lose some of its novelty value so this story is about how to keep the interest levels going
You've just picked up a handful of clothes and you're heading for the changing room. You call over your shoulder for me to follow you and as I know what's good for me, I do. The assistant has the required bored expression and pushes the curtain back on a small cubicle for you to step inside.
There's a battered armchair near the entrance to the changing rooms and no-one else is using it, so I slump into it to wait for the next catwalk show.
My eyes roam around the store and I make a note of a couple of tops that I think would suit you and tell myself to mention them to you when you come out. As I turn my attention back to the changing room entrance, I catch sight of you through the gap in the curtain.
You have your back to me and your top is off. And so is your bra! I don't remember that from earlier and continue to look at you without trying to stare. You pull a top over your head and straighten it around your hips. You look at yourself in the mirror facing you and as you turn I can see your reflection also.
Not wearing a bra for that top was definitely a good idea as it clings to like a second skin without creasing and bunching up. You're obviously pleased with it as well as you keep smoothing the material over your chest and stomach.
You're apparently VERY pleased, or else getting changed has left you a little chilly as your nipples have stiffened and become very obvious. I realise that my pleasure may becoming obvious also and so adjust my position to conceal the stiffness in my trousers.
You unfasten your trousers and bend to push them to the floor and I marvel at your fantastic backside within a brief pair of panties that expose plenty of bum cheeks without being a thong. It's just as well I had the rearrange as the sight of those cheeks parting as you bend and reveal your silk clad sweet spot, has me tenting like Billy Smarts Big Top!!
Stepping out of your trousers you pick the skirt you have selected and hold it against you and look in the mirror, allowing me more time to gaze at our semi-naked rear. Satisfied that it matches the top, you step into it and fasten the zip. Again, smoothing the material over your thighs and bum. You twist from side to side to get a good look at yourself. Then pull the curtain to one side,
"What do you think? Do these go together?" And you step towards me.
I become a little flushed, feeling I have been caught doing something I shouldn't and try to ensure that you can't see the discomfort in my trousers.
"Yeah." I stammer, "you looked fantastic. Really great." I remain seated and hope you don't ask me to stand.
"What do you mean LOOKED fantastic? Don't you like these on me? Did you prefer one the other outfits?" But then you look along my line of vision into the changing area and stop the interrogation as you consider what I may have seen. "You liked, I mean like what you see then? Let me try on a couple more, then you can tell me what you liked best." And with that, you turn and go back into the cubicle. You catch a sly look in my direction as you pull the curtain across.
I congratulate myself on my narrow escape and settle back in the chair, hoping that you've not done a very good job of closing the curtain. I needn't have worried. Unknown to me, you realised the view that I had and have decided to have a bit of fun. You have made sure that there is a gap in the curtain and that you stand where I can see you and the mirror.
You pull the top off and hang it again. Then you stand at a slight diagonal so that I can see your right breast and your reflection. You put your hand to your face, as if you were trying to decide which top to try next and your hand on your hip. You pick up a variety of tops to hold against your naked torso and rub your breasts and stomach as though you were trying to see the shape they would form on you. But you seem to be more concerned with getting the shape right around your breast and nipple as you continue to smooth and rub yourself through a variety of fabrics.
Eventually, you appear to settle on a short spaghetti strapped top, which stops just short of the trousers you're wearing to expose a tantalising strip of flesh below your belly button. As you struggle into it, you give the impression of not being able to get it over your shoulders but in truth you are trying to linger with your arms raised, shaking your breasts in the mirror as you glance in it to see if you have my attention.
Once the top is in place, you look at yourself and rub your palms over your body, as if straightening the outfit but you seem to be lingering longer than necessary over your breasts and thighs. I don't realise this is deliberate and just enjoy the show. As there is no one around, I reach under my shirt to loosen my belt. Then under cover of one of our shopping bags, push my hand under the waistband of my trousers to rearrange things properly. Enjoying the touch of my hand against my stiffening shaft.