Change Is As Good As A Rest

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Trying on some dresses when I was younger, for a ball-type thingi. Way back when, this was a reality… now I look for it to happen again but where have all the naughty girls gone…?

I drew the curtain across and turned to the mirror, hanging up both dresses on the hook as I leant forward to wipe the lipstick smudge at the corner of my mouth. I unfastened the belt buckle on my jeans and opened them up, sliding them down my thighs to reveal a black suspender belt and stockings. I bent down and unzipped my boots, kicking them off in turn, before stepping out of the jeans. I took off my top and stood, shifting sideways, bending slightly, admiring myself in the full-length mirror of the changing room.

I had a full set of black lace lingerie on, wanting to make sure the dress I was looking to buy felt right, that the suspender belt wouldn’t show through the material, that it would all feel just right for the party. Watching myself, I stretched, watching my cleavage heave as my arms raised and tensed. As my arms relaxed by my side I think I subconsciously stroked the outline of the lace top on my stockings, and up the suspender strap to my waist.

I remember looking into my own eyes in the mirror as I got naughty and slipped a deep red nail inside the elastic of my thong and pushed down a little deeper, just for a little itch.

The curtain drew back. “Oh sorry! Didn’t know you were there!” It was one of the assistants, looking startled.

“Erm, it’s OK,” I blushed, reaching for one of the dresses. The curtain was suddenly pulled taut and the voice came from behind; “Erm, just call if you need a hand, eh?” “Yep!” I called back, trying not to sound as red as I looked.

I took the first black dress off its hanger and put it on over my head. It felt smooth, sexy. It was cut just right over my tits, and fell nicely over my hips. I put my boots back on so that I could evaluate the overall look – and it looked great as far as I could tell. As girls do, I turned and bent over – and even I had to admit my arse looked good in this one. I stood again and stroked down the front of the outfit, feeling the satiny material like another layer of skin, over my tummy and round my hips. I could feel my underwear but couldn’t decide in the light whether the outline was visible. I kept shifting, watching my arse and thighs for any sign of imperfection.

I raised one foot on to the bench on the opposite wall. Fuck! The suspender belt over this leg was showing badly… it was twisted, a botched job in the rush to get ready this morning. I tutted audibly and moved to lift the dress up.

“All OK in here?” The curtain drew back and that same assistant stepped in, closing it behind her. Her blue eyes were sparkling under a blonde bob as she spoke to me. “That looks great, do you want to try a different colour or is black what you’re after?” She had a tongue stud that flashed every now and then as she buzzed around me in her denim skirt, adjusting the shoulder straps on my New Favourite Dress, picking stray fluff from the shear material.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Actually it’s gorgeous but I, erm … I was wearing stockings and stuff cos that’s what I’ll be wearing when I go out in this.” I was blushing at having to explain the lingerie, and looked down at the twisted suspender belt.

“Oh that’s OK,” the assistant whispered back, “we get people doing that all the time. At least you bothered şişli escort with knickers eh?” And she laughed a husky sexy little laugh, grinning up at me as she continued smoothing the dress down over my shoulders and hips. I suddenly realised just how much physical contact there was going on.

“Want me to help you out of it, get it wrapped for you?”

“Erm well I just need a few more minutes…”


There was an awkward pause. I was looking back at her, glancing down to admire her pert figure, and I think my hand subconsciously started tracing an outline over what was the offending piece of lingerie. The assistant’s eyes were drawn to the bulge under the black material. “Ohhhhh,” she yelped. “You need untwisting?” She giggled, lifting my leg off the bench and kneeling. “I can sort that out real quick.” She looked up at me and grinned as her hands went underneath the dress, steadily searching up my left leg to the top of the stocking. I really tried hard not to gasp, briefly wondered about a gentle protest, but decided against it. This was harmless enough – surely she had done this sort of thing for hundreds of women before me anyhow…

The girl popped open the clip on the suspender and it recoiled north, back towards the belt. “Oops!” Then the girl’s left hand held the back of my thigh, the right searched gently, getting higher to reach the suspender. I remember watching the outline of the slender fingers under my dress as the hand reached virtually my waistline. The fingers fumbled this way and that, seemingly pushing the suspender around rather than grasping it. Then I giggled without thinking, the sensation tickling. “Sorry,” the assistant seemed to say with mock sincerity, “think I’ve got it now.” She had it but, to be fair to her, was struggling to pull it back down such was the figure-hugging nature of the dress round my waist.

“It’ll probably be easier if you could just hold the dress for me,” said the assistant as her hands shot down and carefully began hitching the lower regions of the dress up towards my waist.

“Erm , it’s OK – I think I’ll just…”

“No we’re nearly there now… Might as well finish the job, eh?”

At that point I glanced across to the mirror to see the dress rising above my stocking tops. Both the assistant’s hands were against bare flesh now, on either thigh. “There you go then!” she chirped. She was waiting for me to reach down and hold the dress out of the way, and I fumblingly obliged, lifting it slightly more, and watched as the assistant reapplied the clip to my stocking with the minimum fuss.

“There,” she said, “oh but hold on…” She leant back, seemingly for a wider view of me. “Can you turn round?”

I paused, looking down to the assistant knelt on the floor, noticing the outline of two extremely erect nipples under her white T-shirt. “OK,” I said, and faced the other way.

Facing the wall, I looked to my left and into the mirror, wondering what on earth the assistant was looking for. “You need to slide the dress up a bit, higher, for a minute,” she barked at me.

I gathered it up a bit more, reaching behind to make sure it was raised there too. “Your suspender belt isn’t on straight, it’s shifted round a bit. Better get it right or you won’t know if the dress feels right.”

With that she shuffled forward, right behind me. Her fingers slid behind each of the suadiye escort suspenders running down the back of my thighs and brushed upwards to the belt, tantalising the back of my legs till they reached my bum, the feminine touch over my buttocks feeling like electricity. I watched in the mirror to see if the assistant’s eyes would leave my arse for a second. They didn’t. She shifted the belt slightly one way, then the other way. The hands went down either buttock – and fingertips rather than the backs of her hands this time, stroking round the side of my hips and, frankly, startling me as they both went round the front, across the top of my thong and low enough graze my bush before finally moving back up to the belt.

I could at times feel her breath on my arse, so close was she now that she was leaning, reaching round me, trying to encircle me. I could feel myself getting horny as this foxy girl’s warm breath caressed my skin. Then, suddenly…

“There!” said the assistant, leaning back. “Miles better.” She stood up. “You know you carry lingerie very well, it suits you.”

“Thanks,” I said under my breath, waking from my reverie.

She slowly replaced the dress, making sure it was smoothed back down over my hips. I turned to the mirror, looking through it rather than at it. I honestly didn’t know what to do next, and I think I just subconsciously shifted to admire the dress some more.

The assistant stepped back. “You going to check the suspenders again?” she asked, motioning to the bench.

“Oh, yes,” I said, and I placed first my left foot on the bench, smoothing over the suspenders to check they were hidden, and then the right.

“All good,” said the assistant. “But you know you can see that thong when you bend slightly – you should take it off. And with that material I bet it would feel sooooo sexy.” She looked at me and I swear she was ever so slightly licking her lips as she let her eyes wander over me. By now I was getting the message. I was happy to play.

“Yes I’ll try that,” I said. I brought my foot down off the bench once more and slowly gathered up the dress again. It rose silkily over the lace tops of the stockings, caressed my bare thighs and passed my knickers. “Could you…?” I asked the assistant with mock innocence. She then slowly knelt down before me.

The assistant’s hands each stroked the outside of my thighs for a moment before edging up and hooking into the elastic of my knickers. She slowly, firmly, pulled them down, eyes fixed on my pussy as it was revealed to her. I brought my legs closer together so that the thong could fall to the floor, stepped out of it and then casually stepped back but in a more advanced position, close enough to feel the assistant’s breath again. The girl’s hands ran up my legs from the back of my knees, up over the lace and up to cup my tensed buttocks. She pulled me to her mouth, planting a moist kiss on my already glistening slit. I sighed and, as the assistant carried on kissing on and around my crotch, I looked across and saw how silly I looked holding this dress up. With one violent movement I pulled it over my head and threw it on the bench opposite.

The assistant looked up. “That’s much better,” she smiled, and she opened her mouth as her tongue went to delve deeper between my legs, flashing the silver tongue stud.

I opened up slightly and I think my taksim escort hands reached down to hold the assistant’s head in place, fingers intertwined with her blonde hair. Her tongue was slowly running up from my dripping hole to my clit, over and over again, ever so slightly quicker, firmer each time. Then, suddenly, she sunk downwards and her tongue entered me, probing around, opening me, releasing juices in what felt like waves.

Then it got even more horny. She stopped and leant back, taking off her top slowly to reveal pert breasts very much at attention. She smiled as she slowly stood up to take off her skirt and then thong, kicking them to the side of the cubicle while stumbling forward to brush her lips against mine. Her hands were on my hips, pulling me forward so that she could plant a sexy wet kiss on me, my own juice smeared on my mouth. By now, I was dying to cum throbbing deep inside.

“Turn this way,” the assistant said, manoeuvring me so that I was facing the mirror full-on, my back to the curtain which was shielding a shop buzzing with activity.

“Put your leg up here, on the bench,” she said, lifting my left leather boot on to the seat, creating a wide angle of attack for her as she sank back down to her knees kissing the front of my legs every couple of inches.

I managed to graze my hands against the assistant’s tits as she sank back down to her knees, mouth working slowly back to my clit. This time, though, almost immediately fingers began probing and teasing around the entrance to my pussy as the tongue and mouth returned to tantalising my clit. I opened up as wide as she could, silently begging for the fingers to fuck me while I was sucked off. I looked ahead into the mirror, and I could see the mop of hair bobbing up and down in front of my pussy, a left hand holding my hip, steadying me, the right hand out of view and, slowly but surely, sliding into me.

The assistant let out a little satisfied groan, even before I did. Two fingers worked around slowly inside me, feeling a lot of heat, making the cubicle all wet noise and lusty scent. The assistant kept sucking hard on my clit and I remember just gasping in some sort of rhythm as the fingers worked my cunt, drawing ever more juices down past the young girl’s knuckles and on to her hand. She slipped them out and returned, with three fingers. I tried to stifle another moan. I could now feel the tongue stud running quickly over my clit, pressuring in quick movements. The fingers began to move in and out faster, the arm building up speed. I kept trying to watch but the sensations were such that my head fell back and I had to growl – it was all about feeling not watching. I was about to explode, and my hand shot out to the wall to steady myself as my legs began to weaken, the other hand gripping the back of the girl’s head to hold her mouth in place.

Still conscious of the people yards away beyond the curtain, I made an urgent, muted noise as I came and the assistant wrapped her mouth around my clit, indulging in one long hard suck, her fingers roaming in all directions inside my hole. I gasped badly, loudly, my pelvis bucking wildly for what seemed an age before I was able to relax and pull the assistant away from my dripping mess.

I looked down and our eyes met, and the assistant slowly and deliberately licked her three slimy fingers clean as I fell backwards on to the bench in a spent heap. The assistant stood, quickly redressed and leant over to kiss me full on the mouth. I didn’t know what to say, but managed a “thank you”.

“All part of the service,” the girl grinned. “Shall I assume you’ll be taking that dress?”

“Oh… I’ll come back next week and try some more if that’s OK.”

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