The thoughts of what I was about to do had my pussy so drenched that I was struggling against the powerful urge to finger my fiery cunt right in public. A slutty, see-through dress, of a medium gray, gossamer fabric with glimmering, sparkling silver threads woven throughout, was one of my choices. As it hung on the hanger, displayed for potential buyers to admire, I could see completely through both layers of fabric. Thigh-high boots of imitation leather with high, silver-capped, spiked heels and the sluttiest teddy I could ever imagine finished off my choices.
It didn’t help matters that I was very aware that the punkish woman, all ink, piercings, and multicolored hair, was eyeing me with lusty hunger. She and I were the only ones in the adult store. I noticed her eyes riveted to my bouncing, braless boobs, my nipples jutting out through the thin fabric of my cropped t-shirt, when I entered. She was either unaware that her horny expression betrayed her attraction, or she didn’t care. Her eyes were darkened with black shadow and mascara, charcoal rouge coloring her cheeks, and her full, lush lips matched the somber tones. Her hair was colored a dark, emerald green, with blood-red streaks balanced out with whites, some bluish tinges, and purple ends.
She adorned her impish, sensual body in a black Misfits T-shirt; the hem was ragged, matching the holes she’d cut and torn, and the collar had been ripped off, enlarging the neck hole to the point of the shirt hanging off of one shoulder. Bold and overt, her red bra strap proudly contrasted with the smooth, pale flesh her shirt exposed. A lace miniskirt, more of a micro-tutu, as it was roughly the length of a broad belt, made a feeble stab at modesty. Rather than cover her shapely butt, covered in black- and green-striped leggings, it drew attention to the fact that the clingy fabric of her tights enhanced her seductive ass and toned legs.
“Zee,” according to her employee badge, didn’t hide the fact that she was drooling over my body. Her pierced tongue shot out to moisten her lips when she stared at my pert C-cups, and her eyes wandered all over my back and ass as she followed me around the store. Her deep brown eyes lingered on my skirt, and I could all but hear her dirty, primal thoughts. It was evident that Zee was into women, this woman in particular. That just made what I was about to do all the hotter.
I’m used to being ogled and leered at. When I’m horny or among friends—or even horny among friends—I bask in the attention. When I’m not, it’s a major annoyance. I wasn’t merely horny; the fiery inferno of my insatiable lust had reached new heights. But, being a creature of passion and adventure, I felt an overwhelming urge to do something naughty. I’d done this before, many times over, but it had been a long while.
“The fitting room is over there.” Zee gestured with a skull-ring-adorned hand, her black nails pointing the way. “If you need anything, just shout.”
Tiny and spartan, the five-by-eight-foot fitting room had wall-to-wall mirrors and a heavy, black velvet curtain in lieu of an actual door. Even the corners had mirrored inserts; no matter where I looked, I was assailed with reflected images of me and my body, compound reflections echoing into infinity. My cropped shirt, the hem ending at about my navel, was stripped off and hung on the nearby hook. My patchwork gypsy skirt soon followed. Standing nude in the minuscule room, I had plenty of time to appraise my carnal flesh.
While we’re never satisfied with our own bodies, I had no legitimate complaints. At just weeks away from turning forty-one, I don’t look my age. I more closely resemble the young, fresh-bodied college coeds who pour into my store looking for discounted textbooks. Although I’m biased, the myriad bitches in the mirrors showed no sag, no wrinkles, and not a single part that had succumbed to the rigors of time or gravity.
Standing up straight and shoving my shoulders back hiked my breasts up. They hung high, round, and firm, and the thinness of my torso made them seem to spill over my sides, ever so slightly. Holding that posture, my crinkly nipples thrust upward. From the waist up, I resembled a toothpick with some pink-tipped grapefruits glued on.
My saturated pussy, some red fuzz regrowing in a delicately-shaped, rectangular strip, looked youthful. Being in a constant state of high arousal is great for nether-region hydration. When I bent over, smiling at myself, I could readily see why my ass has caused both wet dreams and traffic accidents.
While not a thing of legend, I do have a nice, sexy ass. My hips are full and round, tapering quickly into gangling legs. Plump, taut, rounded, and having that inverted heart shape, all the hiking, exercise, and yoga have shaped my rump into masturbation material.
Delaying my gratification, or perhaps enhancing it, I let the punk music, loudly playing throughout the store, possess me. My hips swayed to the beat, my hands caressed in time with the rhythm, and my long, red hair, worn straight that day, cascaded to and fro with the shimmying of my head. Forgetting where I was, I clapped on the downbeat.
“Everything okay in there,” Zee called out.
Without thinking, I ripped open the curtain, knowing but not caring—hoping, actually—that it would expose my nudity to her. I stuck out my smiling head, my boobs making a guest-starring appearance as well.
“Sorry. Just grooving to your music. Who is that?”
“Lords of Acid. I like the sexuality and beat.” I knew who it was, I just felt like showing her my tits. Her dark eyes gleamed with arousal, but she suddenly tore her gaze from my breasts and got seriously involved with staring at her phone.
Smirking, I swished the curtain closed, ignoring the fact that my vigorous motion caused the far end to slide, creating a serendipitous gap. I stepped out of my sandals, noting that it had only been two days and the nail polish on my toes was already in a distressed state of mutilation. Zee liked what she saw; I was certain. Even if she didn’t, I was in a naughty mood, so I decided that she liked it, because it made my overheating cunt hotter and wetter.
First, I tried on the dress; it was part of my plan. The only thing I didn’t like about it was the price tag. The translucent fabric molded itself to my youthful curves, enhancing my nudity and adding gray shadows in all the right places, highlighting the darkness of my nipples, the swells of my breasts, and my pubic mound. The back was scandalously low, baring so much flesh, and cut so deeply that the dimples of my ass, and some of the tops of my cheeks, were exposed.
I leaned against a mirrored wall, one foot propping itself up on the bench seat. No matter where I looked, I saw this vision of me dressed up like a horny, slutty vixen. The dress served only one purpose, enticing onlookers to fuck the wearer. With my leg propped up, the long, high slit fell away from my outstretched thigh, exposing the bottom curve of my butt from one angle, and a peek of my sodden, dripping pussy at another.
While not prone to flights of narcissism, I did like the way I looked in that dress. My breasts were presented as suckable tits, only there for pleasure. My ass, featured in a cascade of images reflecting off one another, looked edible and spankable. From my angle, I could partially see Zee through the gap in the curtain. She was doing a good job of pretending to be working while she was gazing at my dressing room as if she were trying to be a voyeur, seeking a glimpse of my flesh.