The Dressing Room

Let me say, I hate shopping. I go to the mall, I know what I want. I buy it. End of story.

But you changed my mind. You showed me how it could be fun, and even rewarding.

So we cast our minds back to this morning, a typical day, somewhat cloudy, breezy, and slowly turning towards winter. You come to me smiling, telling me that the small red and back skirt and top ensemble you have on is not going to be enough in the next few weeks. Once the weather turns colder you will need more than just the warmth of our bed.

So with a sigh I drag myself up and agree to go to the mall. I bring a book and my Ipod, as I know I will be spending many an hour sitting outside a dressing room waiting. I steel my resolve and prepare for hours of tedium and boredom.

Luckily, my preparations are for naught, as I am anything but bored on this particular shopping trip.

Our first stop is Lane Bryant. I love this store. I love women who look like women, not like stick figures or little boys. You are curvy in every way, from the full swell of your hips to the gorgeous roundness of your breasts. I would never say you are fat, or even overweight; you are just very much a womanly figure.

The woman behind the counter is much like you, but I can tell by her body language that she is embarrassed by her backside. She wears a belt over her skirt to take attention away from what is in her mind a "big ass". I think she is wonderful, her hips full and yes, a little over proportionate, but still shaped well, reminding me of a wonderful valentine.

The two of you immediately dig into the racks, and I settle down with my book.

Several skirts and sweaters and dresses are paraded before me for my opinion. After the second such example I notice that you are making an effort to bend over my chair to show me the sweater you like. I give you an honest opinion (I do not like the braided twists in the material and think that after one wash they will look mangled), but only after I spend several moments gazing into your amazing brown eyes, and then a few more tearing my gaze away from the cleavage you are not-so-delicately exposing to me.

As you walk away, my eyes are glued to the swaying motions your ass makes under your skirt, and your walk and angle of departure suggest you are more than happy to let me look.

Then comes the surprise. Long red hair falls against my cheek, a sweet aroma of clean skin fills my nostrils, and the clerk is suddenly leaning over me. She smiles, holds out a black suede skirt and belt for me and tells me you have asked her to see if I like it.

Two things I notice right off. One, she has hair the color of honey, with gleams of red shooting through gold. Second, she has eyes like green fire, blazing as they look directly into mine.

Then I notice that she is also gifted with a fair amount of cleavage. It is not as abundant as yours, and a lot of it might be the bra she is wearing (but so what, Victoria Secret should have gotten a Nobel Prize for the Wonder Bra) but it is that amazing creamy color Irish and Scottish redheads have to their skin. I also notice that said cleavage is very close to my face, and this beauty, despite my earlier analysis about her self perception, is standing over me with her ass sticking straight out, her knees locked, as though she were waiting for a lover to approach her from behind.

I do like the skirt, and tell her it is beautiful, and very similar to the one she has one (and it is.) Her smile is worth it. She walks back into the jungle of clothes racks and displays, but I watch her very carefully, noticing that she is taking her time, and knowing that she has to feel my eyes on her beautiful heart shaped ass.

I get through one page of my book over the next hour. Most of what I read I have to re-read over again. Time and again I am distracted by either you or the sales clerk approaching me and showing me examples of winter and fall fashions and asking my opinion. At the same time I am equally distracted by cleavage, flashing eyes, both of your beautiful smiles, and of course the sway and swish of your skirts.

By now I am very aroused, and feeling very male. Several women in the store walk past me to get to the changing rooms, and give me a double take at my smile. Some look at me strangely, others smile back. All I am sure can feel the appreciation for them that radiates behind my eyes.

Finally, you approach me, this time with the sales clerk. You have a top and a scarf, she has a skirt and some boots. You both lean over me to show me how the ensemble looks together. (It is very nice, with the boots adding flare to what could be somewhat mousy otherwise.)

Now, you never wear a bra except when exercising or dancing. So I am not surprised to see one of your nipples as you bend over me. What surprises me is that the redhead's bra has shifted slightly, allowing about half of her nipple to peek out at me.

Combined with the sight and sweet smell of the two of you leaning over me, it is intoxicating. The effect on my body is immediate. My skin is darkens with a flush of blood, and my cock immediately hardens and pushes against my jeans.

I make no move to cover my "tent", and your eyes immediately seek out this recognition of your beauty. I notice the sales girl's eyes following yours, and a slow smile spreads across her face as she realizes she is looking at the proof of her effect on me.

But the show ends way too soon. You hop into one of the changing booths, and she begins piling clothes up onto the door hooks and even over the door itself.

So reluctantly I turn back to my book. Two more pages, then I hear you say it. "I cannot get this unstuck, can you help me?" I turn and just in time see the door to your dressing room close with you and the sales clerk inside.

I force myself to turn back to my book, but I can guess what you are doing in there. Your skirt is "stuck", and the zipper cannot go down. You get her to unzip it for you, facing her of course, so that when it falls free she is in front of you, almost on her knees in a crouch, and she suddenly finds herself inches away from your body, which of course is totally nude underneath the skirt.

If she pays attention she will notice the musky smell of you being turned on. Most likely she will try to be polite, and ask if there is anything else she can do to help. She will try to be professional, she will try to be polite and helpful, but she will eventually realize that she is in that small room with you and she has already crossed the line of professionalism.

Finally you will ask her about a sweater, and then tell her it would look better on her. She will reluctantly agree to try it on, showing you her gorgeous breasts and the sheer bra that she has on as she tries it on in front of you.

Again, if she is observant, she will notice your nipples (which of course you will stay topless while you give her the sweater to try on) getting hard as you watch her undress.

By this point she will be turned on herself. Her cheeks will be flushed. Her nipples will be hard. And she will be dripping despite herself with desire.

But of course you do not want her to get into any trouble. So you keep it quiet. But your triumph comes when you get her to try on a skirt. Her panties match her bra, and she has exquisitely shaped thighs. You get bold and tell her so. She demurs, telling you they are too fat.

You get very close to her, your breasts pressing against hers in the small room, and tell her that boyfriend would come on her ass just from the sight of it. She laughs nervously, but a thrill races through her body. She has been told by other women she was fat or too big (mostly jealous women who only wished they could be as luscious as her in a skirt) and her butt was always her least favorite attribute. Now you are telling her a man would have an orgasm just at the sight of it.

Again she acts demure, telling you there is no way.

You look her straight in the eye, and your hands move up to her neck pulling her very very close. Your lips almost brush hers as you whisper to her "Tell you what, I will bring him in here. You bend over in front of the mirror so you can see. I will not touch him, you will not touch him, all you need to do is lift your skirt, and pull your panties down. Not even all the way if you don't want, just enough so he can see your ass. I guarantee that in seconds he will come. If I am wrong, you win, and I will do whatever you want." At this statement your hand brushes against her panties, and you look her deep in the eye so she knows what you mean. "If I am right, then you have to do whatever I want. Deal?"

She stammers for a moment, speechless at your boldness. Her thoughts of getting fired collide with her feelings of lust. Without a word, you open the dressing room door.

I look up to see her in a different outfit, a short skirt that shows off her legs and rounds her butt nicely, and a tight sweater that makes her breasts look four times bigger and shows off how round they are.

You, on the other hand, have on no top. The skirt you have on is hanging by one button and is already sliding off of one hip. With one finger you motion me to come join you.

I check to see if anyone is watching, then stroll casually into the changing room with you and the redhead. Her breathing is deep and her neck and chest are covered with a pinkish blush.

I close and lock the door, and you put your arm around her and smile at me. "Sweety," you say to me "this poor woman thinks her ass is too big and unattractive. I want to prove to her otherwise. Do you think that you could help us out?"

I try to be nonchalant and gallant about doing two such beautiful women a favor, and try to accept graciously. (By graciously I mean that I try not to scream "Thank you God!" and drool, and barely manage not to.)

Without another word you bend her over in front of the mirror. She can see her profile, her ass in the air, waiting again as if for a lover, her hands gripping the soft seat of the changing room, her honey red hair falling in a cascade over her face.

You whisper to me to just show her, not to touch her, then you go and sit on the bench. You sit right beside where she is holding on, facing her, and ask if she is ready. At her nod you slip one hand down between your legs. Your skirt falls to the floor, and already your fingers are working away pleasuring yourself as you drink in her body with your eyes.

My cock is already out. My eyes are fastened on the beautiful curves of her skin. She has on a translucent panty of a light green color. I can clearly see the part of her thighs as she bends over. My hand begins to stroke my shaft furiously. The head of my cock stays several inches away from her skin, but since I am taller than her it is over her as well. I move just close enough so that my legs touch the back of her legs, but I do not crouch down or bend my knees, thus keeping my cock well away from her so she does not think I am trying to penetrate her.

She can clearly see me in the mirror, see my eyes glued to her skin, and my hand moving so fast over my cock it is a blur. She can see the lust in my face. But her gaze moves back to you, and she watches fascinated as your fingers move over your most intimate spots. You whisper to her to take off the bra, and she does without hesitation. Her breasts move very little once they are free, and her bright pink nipples point towards the floor in this position.

At the site of her breasts an orgasm rips through your body. You grab her bra, put a corner in your mouth, and use it to stifle the cries of your pleasure. She watches intently as your body arches slowly upward, then spasms up and down rapidly as your fingers move faster and almost frantically. The wet sounds from your fingers mingle quietly with your muffled sounds.

She watches with obvious fascination. As your spasms subside, her attention turns back to me. Now her eyes are glued on my cock. Already a bright drop of pre come has begun to slowly move out of the tip, and it runs over my fingers and drops slowly onto her panties. She gasps as she watches this.

Very quietly you whisper to her, and ask her if she wants me to come. Her answer is a breathless yes. Then you ask her if she wants to make me come. She looks into your eyes for a second, and you clarify to her that she does not need to touch me, all she needs to do is turn me on more than I can take. She asks how to do that, and you tell her she must show me how sexy she truly is. You know me, I am not motivated solely by lust, but by beauty as well. You tell her she must show me how beautiful she truly is. Again she asks how, and you whisper in her ear.

She looks back at me, and then timidly reaches back with her hands. Her thumbs hook into her panties. I look at her reflection in the mirror, and see her startlingly beautiful eyes locked onto mine. I smile and tell her how beautiful she is.

She begins to pull down her panties, and I can hear her breathing coming in short quiet gasps.

As the fabric moves over the curve of her ass, and just before it would get to a point where her pussy would be exposed between her thighs, my orgasm hits. She almost cries out in surprise as she sees a long white rope of come shoot out of my cock.

The position of my masturbating makes my cock point straight up, so for a moment the blast seems to hover in the air over her ass. It looks longer than my cock and the end is a large bolus of come almost an inch across. I hear you whisper a quick obscenity as another orgasm hits you.

Then as if we were in bullet time for a few moments, time seems to catch up to us. The jet of come (which came out so hard and fast it hissed) falls right onto her skin. A flush spreads over her body and she begins shaking. She has already let go of her panties and is now holding onto the seat again. Another shot, then another fall onto her ass. Part of another comes out. Then my entire body jerks and a long slow steady stream of come moves out of me and falls onto her exposed skin.

We all sit for a minute, catching our breaths, keeping quiet so as not to be noticed. Finally you lean over to her. You run a thumb over her lips (the same hand, I notice, that was between your legs a moment ago) and point out to her what just happened. You tell her that the next time she feels bad about her body, or the next time some lanky bitch with no tits and no ass tells her she is fat, to think about this moment. To remember this room right here. To remember that her panties were not even off yet and she made a guy come buckets. To remember that she did not even touch anyone and she made a guy and a girl come. To remember that she is beautiful.

Before you finish the last sentence she kisses you. It is a long kiss, no tongue, but very passionate. She straightens up, and pulls up her panties. I notice that a lot of my come has landed in her panties, and of course her cheeks are still covered, but she does not care and pulls the thin fabric up over all of it, then smiles at me. Then it is my turn to get kissed, something I did not expect. She surprises me even further by whispering thank you in my ear and hugging me. I am still hard, and my cock presses up against her panties.

Several minutes later, my head pops out of the dressing room. Two sales clerks are standing over a rack arranging socks. They are oblivious to me so I slip out and sit down.

A few minutes later you come out, several purchases ready to go. The redhead follows you, carrying yet more. She rings you up, the two of you make sure cell phone numbers are exchanged, and plans are made to raid a big sale next week at another store.

We take my arm and we walk back to the car.

On the ride home you look at me and tell me "I notice you did not get to come again." "Too soon," I answer, "Plus we had time against us, I did not want to push our luck for her sake."

I know that you are talking about the last few minutes in the changing room. After she put on her panties, she told you you were right. Then she smiled wickedly and asked what you wanted her to do.

At that, you stood up, switched places with her so she was sitting and you were bent over, and then told her quite simply "Just watch."

And she did. It happened very fast. My cock entering you from behind. Her panties hitting the floor this time as her fingers buried themselves deep in the honey red hair between her legs. Your sudden clenching inside as you came, once, twice, then a third time. Your fourth and most violent orgasm hitting when she was brave enough to reach out touch your breast gently. Then her long slow orgasm overtaking her, her toes curling and uncurling, her stomach clenching and unclenching as she spasmed, her eyes never leaving our bodies as we continued to move.

But we had to stop. I left as the two of you quickly dressed (since I never undressed this was easy for me, but looking back as I left and seeing you topless and adjusting your skirt, and the redhead putting on her blouse but still without her skirt or panties was so worth it.)

So as we rode home you tell me I should have gone ahead and come. Maybe. But it worked out nicely.

Then you smile at me, and your hands begin roaming over my zipper. You take me out, and something soft and warm wraps around my cock. I look down and see that you have her panties, and they are wrapped around the base of my cock.

Then you take them away, and they disappear up your skirt and join your fingers already working feverishly on yet another orgasm.

As we drive quietly home and the events of the dressing room play in my mind, your lips cover me totally, and I know my orgasm will not take long.