Lisa had searched a dozen stores for the look-at-me dress she wanted and had found nothing. Finally, she ventured into the city's oldest fashion retailer, an upmarket place which she usually found too staid for her exuberant taste. To her surprise, she saw a dress that looked like it had been designed for the red carpet at an awards show. Slinky, figure-hugging, revealing. The very thing.
She rushed with it into the store's newly-refurbished changing area. There were rows of cubicles to the left and right. Which way to go? All the cubicles looked occupied and there was no assistant on duty to ask. Then she saw a door at the far end was ajar. She hurried towards it, pushed the door open with a thrust of her neat butt and went in, rear first. She latched the door closed, and turned round.
There was a man in the cubicle.
He was wearing nothing but underpants.
Lisa gasped in shock. The dress fell from her hands on to the floor between them.
The man had a surprised half smile on his lips.
"I guess I forgot to lock the door," he said. "They re-vamped this area last fall. Unisex and all that. Men to the left as you come in, women to the right." He grinned, and his cool, rich-as-wine, ultra-deep voice sent shivers through Lisa.
"Sorry," Lisa managed to say. "I didn't know."
"Don't matter to me," the man said, with a genial smile.
For five seconds, both stood still. The man noted Lisa made no move to leave. And this excited him.
Lisa noted the man was unembarrassed about being half naked. This excited her.
The man studied Lisa. Her body was trim, compact, well-maintained. Her hairdresser, manicurist and trainer had worked well. There were gleaming crimson nails, and lipstick to match. She wore a stylish, wrap-over dress in a silky emerald which outlined, clearly and invitingly, two perfectly-shaped breasts. Divorcee who'd made a killing, he guessed.
Lisa studied the man. He was about her age, tall, slim, muscular, and likewise well-maintained, with sharp cheek bones, and roguishly sparkling eyes. His dress shirt and coat hanging on a hook screamed class and personal tailoring. Single, old money, she thought.
"Shall I pick up your dress?" he said, rousing Lisa from admiring his body.
"No. Let me." She sprang forward, knelt down on the floor - and found her face only inches from the man's groin. His underpants were black. Tight. Trunks, not briefs. The shape of his dick and balls showed clearly through the stretchy material. Even at rest, and under the fabric, his dick looked magnificent. Huge. Lisa had never seen a cock so big. Her dress was forgotten.
He looked down at her. "My name's Clark, by the way. Are you... um...Enjoying the view?"
She scrambled to her feet, light-headed, entranced. "Sorry...I..." she turned, clutching her dress, and tried to unfasten the door to leave. Her fingers slipped on the catch.
"Nothing to be ashamed of," he said. "Admiring a person's body." He paused a beat. "And the admiration is mutual."
Lisa turned back to him, swallowed, and felt her heart thumping. It was a while since a man had come on to her.
"Aren't you going to try on the dress?" he said. "That's why we're both here." He held up a pair of pants on their store hanger.
Lisa saw curly black hair trailing down from his chest in a thin line and disappearing beneath his underpants. She'd like to see beneath his underpants. To see his outsize dick. To feel it inside her, throbbing and pulsing as he came. She'd almost forgotten what it was like. Before the divorce, sex had been sporadic and unsatisfying, after it, non-existent. She was getting aroused, feeling hot, and wondering, if she took her clothes off to change, what might happen next? It was too awesome to think about.
"Best underwear on?" he said with a smile.
She grinned back, nodding. It was a habit whenever she went to buy clothes.
Her heart was beating faster as she turned away from him, unfastened her dress and slipped it off. She was facing a mirror and, in it, she watched as Clark took the pants off their hanger to try them on. His butt was tight and trim. Boxy. Like an athlete's. Like a classic Greek sculpture. If his dick was out of this world, his butt wasn't far behind. Another surge of heat rushed through her.
As she stepped into the dress, she saw Clark turn and look at her. Their eyes met, and he didn't look away. She got the impression he wanted to know he was interested in her. Well, that was OK.
She examined the dress in the mirror. It was made of a delicate, sheer material, was low-cut, with a long, daring split to one side, and was exceptionally tight, cleaving to her body like a second skin.
"Beautiful," Clark said. "Not everyone could wear a dress like that."
"Thank you. The dress is great, except..." She pointed to the top of her bra which showed under the plunging neckline. "I need a bra cut even lower."
He stepped over and stood behind her, their eyes meeting in the mirror. "Or maybe, no bra at all?"
She raised her eyebrows in surprise, and held his gaze.
"With a dress that tight, made of such fine fabric, whatever bra or panties you wear, their outlines will show."
She looked at his twinkling eyes, his firm lips. He was so close behind her she could feel the heat from his body. Was he as aroused as she was? Her breathing was deeper and faster, blood was rushing round her body, rushing between her legs. She felt desire mounting and the urgent tingling in her groin made her take a step back.
And she bumped into Clark. Or rather, into his dick. It was unmistakeably his dick and it was hard.
Clark stepped away and removed the pants he had tried on. Lisa stared again at the tight, black underpants, now struggling to contain his huge and growing dick. He came close behind her and his deep bass voice breathed softly into her ear.
"May I unzip you?"
The dress fell away to her waist, exposing a half-cup bra with pale yellow polka-dots. Lisa's nipples were jutting strongly through the fabric.
"Pretty underwear," he said. "And I see you're excited. As I am."
While their eyes stayed locked together in the mirror, he unclipped the bra. His flesh was soft, his touch gentle. He eased the straps off her shoulders, the bra slid down her arms. He gathered it from her, and his hand brushed against a breast, his palm glancing against the stiff nipple. She gave a little gasp of pleasure.
His hand returned to the breast. And his other hand to the opposite one. Thumbs and fingers caressed her.
"Oh...," she murmured. "Oh, ooh. That's lovely." She writhed against him, her head leaning back against his shoulder. Her hand slipped behind her and felt for his cock. It was iron-hard, and bulging. So big! Whoever this man was, she wanted him.
His hands left her breasts and zipped the dress up again.
They stood, side by side, looking into the mirror. "Even more beautiful," he said. He ran his hands down the outside of the dress, then up again. The fabric was so filmy he could almost feel the pores of Lisa's skin through it. His fingers traced the line of her cleavage, now unfettered by underwear, then they slipped between the long split and slid under the fabric right up her leg to the top of her thigh.
She gasped as his fingers reached to the bottom edge of her panties, to within an inch of her damp centre. She turned and saw his cock standing out, thick, horizontal, and enormously long, forcing the underpants away from his body.
