I thought I would just call up a local shop and see if the person who works there if they could fit me for a plug, cring, panties.
I would not want to offend them.
Maybe I could get someone to take me and help me try on whatever.
Shopping for a present for my wife, I found myself in an evening gown and lingerie shop one middle-of-the-week,, mid-afternoon and in mid-summer. There were five young and pretty salesgirls, all alert on my entrance. Several vied with each other, asking about what I wanted, but when they agreed on what they had that I should see, the prettiest of them firmly said she would go get the skirt and blouse. She brought it back, and held them in front of her. I looked, completely distracted by what was under the material draped in front of her--but the roundness of the salesgirl's breasts and belly giving form to the blouse and dress. But I ended up saying, truthfully, that I had to see it on to really have an idea if it would suit my wife.
Several of the salesgirls murmured their aproval of having to see it on.
To my astonishment and delight, the salesgirl holding the skirt and blouse, said, "Follow me."
I'm sure there was some prior feminine boasting and challenges that led to that moment--enlisting a willing client to brighten the girls' afternoon, providing some provocative entertainment for them and their would-be buyer. In this case me.
She pulled aside the curtain to the changing room, nodded toward a low bench, and as I sat, came in behind me, pulling the curtain closed behind her, handed me the skirt and blouse she had modeled for me earlier, and kicked off her low-heeled shoes. Speechless, I watched.
Turning her back to me, she pulled her mid-thigh summer dress off over he head, carefully folded it, still with her back turned to me, and then turned to face me. She was barefoot, wore only a lacy pale shell-colored panties and matching bra that was not padded. The soft fabric of the cups were full of girl and nothing else.
She asked if my wife usually wore a bra and panties beneath her outfits. In a knee-jerk mental reflex, I almost said yes. Instead, I said, "Usually without."
It was a small changing room, barely room for one. Her belly was about level with my eyes. I wanted to duck under her breasts to kiss her belly.
She let me kiss her breasts, and then suck on them, and hold her bottom as I kissed her belly and lower, but then, she pulled away, said that we'd better get back. She modeled the blouse and skirt for me--without panties and bra--and then dressed in her own clothes.
I held the dress and blouse in front of me as I went to the cashier's counter to pay, pressed the front of me against the counterface as my debit card processed the charge. I held the boutique bag with my purchase in front of me, thanked all the girls, locked eyes for a moment with the one who had modeled for me, and left.
