FITTING-ROOM SURPRISE

copyright: Lesley Tara, 2009


I had no idea that I could be so easily seduced. All it had taken was a few glances, a couple of touches, and here I was, in less than five minutes, spreading for a total stranger – why, I didn’t even know her name!

In truth, I was simply gagging for it, and perhaps it showed somehow, radiating subliminal signals to anyone attuned enough to pick them up. I was sixteen and a half, a lesbian without a lover or any prospect of one (in fact, with no sex life at all), and I would have gone with any woman who made a pass at me – I just wish some of them had known that!

So here I was, a demure-looking schoolgirl, pretty as a picture in my uniform of navy blue unbuttoned cardigan, matching pleated skirt, white knee socks, crisply-ironed white shirt and striped tie – underneath all of which was a frustrated sapphic slut just begging to be let loose. I nicely look my age, perhaps even a little less, with my open features and slightly snub nose. My eyes are a clear grey, and my hair – light brunette which I streak with a little blonde colouring – falls straight from a single centre parting to hang below my shoulders, where it ends in slight curls and twists. My figure is slim, but with more than hints of the woman to come; at the moment there is more curve to my ass (which juts out fetchingly) than my tits, which are still only an A cup – but heading soon to upgrade to a B. My misleading look of innocent purity was completed by the modest plain white bra and panties I was wearing underneath.

It was a weekday afternoon, and I was idling time away after leaving school, doing one of my favourite things – browsing the women’s clothes in our town’s largest department store. I was enjoying looking at the ‘little black dress’ selection, inspecting one or two, and fantasising about having them unzipped and peeled away from my body by someone really sexy – like, say, Ms Carraway, a busty good-looking teacher in her late 20s who I had a real crush upon, but who disappointingly seemed to be heterosexual or an adherent to the rules (or probably both!).

At that time of day, the store was not very busy, and I couldn’t help noticing a woman who was also checking out similar racks of dresses. She looked to be in her late twenties, and was smart and attractive. She was stylishly but simply dressed, wearing a classic style of short black dress, low-backed with single spaghetti straps, that contrasted with a plain white short-sleeve top. On her feet were pointed-toe black heels, her slim legs were encased in plain black panty-hose or hold-ups, and she was carrying a largish black handbag. Her hair was blonde (but from a bottle, not natural), of similar shape and length to my own, but somehow more adult in cut. I saw from the corner of my eye that she had a good figure: slender waist, nice neat ass, and the rounded swell of medium-sized shapely breasts.

In the natural way of things, our glances met a few times, and on the third occasion she smiled at me – and so I smiled rather shyly in return. It was enough of a bridge for an opening gambit, and she moved a couple of feet nearer to stand beside me, apparently interested in the same black party dresses. She made a casual remark – I have no recollection now of what it was – and I replied, and we chatted for a moment or two in the inconsequential way of passing strangers. However, I couldn’t help feeling that she was appraising me in some way, and certainly her eyes ran a couple of times up and down my body, and a slight gleam came into her eyes. That might have been because I was checking her out as well – and, being young and inexperienced, was probably rather more obvious about it.

After a moment, she said something like: ‘Well, I shouldn’t keep you – you’re such a pretty girl, I’m sure you’ve got a boyfriend waiting for you somewhere!’

‘Oh, no!’ I assured her, with vigorous emphasis, ‘nothing like that, I don’t have a boyfriend’; and then I artlessly added: ‘I’ve got lots of time, really.’

I suppose my subconscious could have made it a little less subtle – like maybe unfurling a huge banner proclaiming ‘fuck me, fuck me, fuck me’.

The woman had an attractive smile, which warmed my stomach and loosened my hips. She turned aside (letting my eyes fall on the profile of her bust – nice, oh very nice!), and picked up the dress that she had been looking at a few minutes before. She held it up, and said:

‘I think this would look good on you – you have such a nice figure.’

I was flattered and thrilled, blushing and mumbling back something inane like: ‘Oh, really? Do you think so?’

‘Mmm, yes!’ she said, and followed with a certain emphasis: ‘I’m quite sure – I know what I like’.

Without saying anything more, she held the dress against my body, her hands lingering far longer than could ever have been necessary in an innocent encounter. Seeing that I made no complaint or resistance, her touch became firmer and bolder, cupping and stroking my breasts through the three layers of thin fabric – the black dress, my school shirt and my soft cotton bra. Her thumb rubbed from side to side across my nipples, bringing them almost instantly to a hard, tingling erectness – which she must have detected.

One of her hands smoothed the short sexy dress down over my stomach to my upper thighs, and then pressed in firmly between my legs, pushing against my Venus mound. I gave a gasp, made up of one part surprise, two parts arousal and three parts desire. She slid her hand down my crotch, unerringly tracing the fold of my cleft, and then quickly thrust under my school uniform skirt and cupped my cunt. The feel of her fingers on my pussy, separated only by the thin layer of my cotton panties (now quite damp and clinging), was unbelievably exhilarating. It was such a sexual rush, such a release of my intense longing and desire, that I almost fainted. I moaned softly, hardly able to believe my luck – there was not a shred of doubt that I was being propositioned sexually; at long last, it was happening, and I would gladly give myself without a second’s hesitation.

All the time, whilst she was caressing me, her gaze had been locked on mine, holding me transfixed. In fact, one thing that made her physical advances so arousing was that she did not look at what her hands were doing, confident that they had reached their target and were attaining their mission objectives.