House of Fraser

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A brief account of some idle moments in a department store.
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Adapted from a true story I sent my friend Julia.

For Julie, my wonderful muse...

So, just to provide a bit of context, it was the heady summer of 2006, I was eighteen, and was looking forward to the start of uni. I'd got the train from Bristol to Bath to see my friend Liz who lives there, and spent the morning strolling round town with her. Early afternoon she had to go to Waitrose, where she worked during the holidays. The train I planned to get back to Bristol wasn't due for an hour and a bit so I decided to wander round town a bit more on my own, because Bath is picturesque, and has some decent shopping.

Seeing as it was a lovely day, I was wandering round in a knee length dress and sandals; the dress was this lovely cotton sundress, in a pale cream colour. Underneath I was wearing a matching set of bra and thong, in frilly white lace. The straps on the dress were skimpy, so I was showing a cheeky bit of bra strap. Anyway, even though I didn't have that much on, it was still very warm, and I was perspiring a little as I walked up the hill towards House of Fraser, where I can usually kill some time. The first thing I noticed was the blissfully cool air conditioning, which was just what I needed.

I went to the womenswear department first, obviously, and I picked out a couple of skirts I wanted to try on, nothing I really intended to buy, but whatever! So next, I went to the surprisingly good lingerie department, again browsing, rather than intending to buy. By this time the coolness of the air conditioning was almost enough to make me shiver a little, the novelty was rather wearing off. More insidiously the vent above where I was standing as I idly toyed with the lace on a black brassiere was propelling considerable amounts of frigid air down the front of my dress. This, needless to say, led to my nipples growing harder, and naturally, more sensitive. The feeling as my taut nipples rubbed against my bra was not entirely unwelcome. As I continued through the lingerie, I became painfully aware of a slight tingle between my legs.

Being turned on whilst shopping is hardly new for me, but normally I wouldn't do anything about it. For some reason though, as I headed for a changing room to try on the skirts I'd found, the idea of killing two birds with one stone appealed enormously. Slightly flustered, I nodded at the assistant by the fitting rooms, and deliberately selected the furthest cubicle from the shop floor. I locked the door, though it was some inches off the ground at the bottom. I had privacy, but not of the soundproof variety. I sat down on the rather uncomfortable bench, and hung the clothes I planned to try on the hook. Pleasure before business!

I began by gently tweaking my nipples through the material of my dress and bra, both of which I intended to keep on, for the sake of a little dignity. After all, furiously frigging oneself in a changing room is one thing, doing it naked is just debauched! I carefully pulled my dress up around my waist, and ever so slowly ran a fingernail along my skimpy little panties, finishing right above the hot wet core of my sex. I did it again, slightly harder this time, and was rewarded by a darkening of the material between my legs, as my overheated pussy oozed its glorious moisture. Throwing caution to the wind, I slipped my knickers off and dropped them on the floor. Spreading my legs, began to stimulate my clit with a finger, in tight, firm little circles. My left hands was gainfully employed at work insider my bra, pinching my left nipple hard.

I bit my lip to avoid a moan escaping, as I entered my own cunt with a single finger. After a minute or so of digital exploration, it was joined by a second finger.

Picture it Julie. Me, flushed and sweating sitting on a cramped bench with my legs spread, ring and middle fingers sliding into my wet little cunt. I began to fuck myself, pushing my hips down onto my hand to extract the maximum amount of pleasure. By this time I as so horny that I was biting my lip almost hard enough to draw blood. I felt the honey sweet warm rising in my veins, the beautiful pain of orgasm approaching inside my body. I masturbated even more vigorously, shunning my boobs in order to rub my clit with my left hand.

I came. Hard and long, as I rode my hand on the bench. I closed my eyes and my mouth let out a silent scream, as I felt the juice from my pussy smeared across my fingers. The feeling was so intense, heightened by the knowledge that there was a bored shop girl in earshot, who was clueless as to what I was up to.

As the pleasure receded, I stopped to catch my breath, and let my pulse return to something approximating normal. I cleaned myself, and the now soiled bench up as best I could, using my panties to mop up the worse effects of my indulgent frig. Without a spare pair to hand, I put them back on, the dampness against my skin a pleasing reminder of what I'd done.

And just for the record, Julie, I never did try on either of the skirts!

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