Fitting Room Fun

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I was shopping for clothes for my new job this summer, a long and gruelling task. I was in a department store when I came across the lingerie section. Having gotten rid of many of my old clothes recently, I decided that some new bras might not be a bad idea. I grabbed six or seven bras and headed into the fitting rooms.

I hung the bras on the wall and threw my purse to the floor. I pulled my tank top over my head, and removed the zebra-print bra I had worn that day. I glanced at myself in the mirror, and pulled the first bra off its hanger. It was a cute yellow polka dot bra, but the unforgiving cups made my modest breasts spill over the top. I removed it and tried on the next in line.

The fourth bra I tried on was something I would never normally choose, a pink number with a front closure and purple ruffles. I marveled at the cleavage formed when I pulled the sides together to clasp the front closure, and let them settle back in place. Suddenly, I realized that the ebbing tingle in my vagina had grown. I was being turned on by the sight of myself trying on bras. I laughed to myself, and pulled off the bra for the next trial.

The final bra I tried on was a nude convertible one, with a lot of extra padding. The cleavage it created was admirable, and the tingling I had been feeling was now too much to ignore. I could hear a woman in the fitting room next to mine trying on her own lingerie, but I knew what I had to do.

I reached down my shorts and began fingering my clit through my panties, and the sensations running through my body begged for more. I pulled my hand up and ducked under my panties, but it still wasn't enough. I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts and let them drop to the floor. Sitting in the fitting room chair, I discovered that the access allowed by my panties still was not sufficient, and I dropped those to the floor as well.

I was now sitting naked in the fitting room chair, slowly dipping my fingers into my vagina and then rubbing my clit with my own sweet juices. It was wonderful, but as I glanced in the mirror I knew it wasn't enough. I turned my body to face the wall of glass, and stared at my wonderful pink hole. I fingered my clit harder and faster until my body shuddered with pleasure, still able to hear the woman in the next room as she changed.

I quickly redressed, wiped my fingers on the chair seat, and left the fitting room. I don't know if I'll ever look at a fitting room the same way again.



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