Blooming Days

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Melon Chiffon

One bus ride later, I stepped into the Westgate Mall, my anxiety rising to new heights as I considered which stores I should visit in the sprawling three story shopping center. It was loud and crowded as per usual, but somehow I felt completely separate from the masses. Vulnerable even. Like a sheep with a lame leg that’s plain to see and yet everyone pretends isn’t there. If no one acknowledges it, then maybe the wolves won’t notice and stay the hell away.

I was on a budget, so I decided to start with the basics. What I needed most of all were bras and underwear, the former of which I had zero of, and the latter of which mine just simply did not fit anymore. With that in mind, I went to the most popular lingerie store that I knew of, because surely if that many women shopped there, then it should be good, right? Right?

The store in question was called ‘Melon Chiffon’, and within two seconds of stepping foot through the sliding glass doors, I was completely overwhelmed. Wall to wall were racks and stacks and bins and barrels of panties, bras, corsets, nylons, and other such stuff that I didn’t know the names of. And since it was summer, everything was super bright, super floral, and super fruity. A catchy pop song was playing over the speakers, and the air was thick with perfume.

A girl in all black greeted me with a plastic smile and handed me a basket, and I mumbled something unintelligible at her before low-key running away to some less populated corner of the store. I found myself behind a trio of skinny mannequins, looking through a display of lace bras that had more hooks and straps than could ever possibly be necessary. Beneath them were some relatively mundane looking pieces and I checked the price tag on one of those to see what I was dealing with.

I stared at the numbers a moment, then swallowed, set the bra down, and slowly backed away. The price of just one plain bra was astronomical and sent my feeble mind reeling. It was like I’d just been slapped. I don’t know what I expected going in, but it sure wasn’t three fucking digits.

It took a minute, but eventually I did find the red stickered sale bins. I dug my hands through and pulled out a few that looked like I might be able to fit into them and tried to compare their tags. I really didn’t give a shit about color or style, I just needed comfort and longevity. Each bin was labeled with a letter and number combo, but I didn’t know what any of them meant. For that matter, I didn’t even know what size I was. I must have been wearing my confusion, because in the next instant, a lady with a heart-shaped face and close-cropped hair was leaning over the bin opposite mine and smiling at me. She was alarmingly pretty, and wore a translucent pastel jacket over a crop-top and high-waisted denim miniskirt.

“Hey there,” she said. “You look like you’re in need of some assistance.”

“Yeah, I am actually,” I laughed awkwardly. She wasn’t wearing a name tag, but for lack of anything else to say, I asked anyway. “Do you work here?”

“Sure don’t, but for you?” She winked and stuck out a hand. “I’m Cam. What do you need help with?”

“Jaime.” I shook her hand, suddenly struck with an odd sense of deja-vu, though I was sure I’d never met her before. “And I, um, I don’t know what size I am. Or even how to get that measurement. I don’t know what these numbers mean, either.”

Her eyes flicked down to my chest for a second and then back up again, one penciled brow raised skeptically. “You’ve never worn a bra before?”

My face went hot. She definitely didn’t believe me. “As a matter of fact, no.”

“Well, okay…” she said with something of a laugh on her lips. “First things first, none of the bras in that bin are going to fit you, I can tell you that much just by looking at you. There’s no way you’re a B.”

“Ah,” I said, still uncomprehending. She sighed through her nose and gave me a small smile.

“Tell you what, let’s mosey on over to the fitting room and grab a tape to actually measure you out. Guessing is just a pain.”

“Uh, alright, thanks.”

The fitting rooms were slammed, but luckily it only took about five minutes before a room opened up for us to take. The beleaguered looking girl manning the little hallway of fitting rooms seemed relieved to find that I had what amounted to my own personal shopper helping me out, and she bent the rules by letting us have the handicapped room together. It was loud in there, and we all had to raise our voices to be heard over the music and conversation of the other shoppers, but eventually she gave us a measuring tape, and showed us to the room.

Once inside, Cam bent to place her purse onto the floor, her legs straight and ass out, and I couldn’t help but to take notice of the fascinating gap between her thighs, or the fact that she was wearing a rainbow thong. I pushed my eyes to the ceiling as she turned back around to face me with the tape in hand. It was suddenly very hot beneath my collar.

“Okie dokie, Jaime, mind removing your top for me?” Cam asked. I blinked at her.

“We can’t measure through my jacket?”

“Well, we can measure through your shirt, if you like? It’s just the bulky items that’ll get in the way.”

“Oh… I um…” I unzipped the top of the track jacket, stopping just at the base of my sternum. The fact of the matter was that I wasn’t wearing a shirt beneath the tracksuit. I wasn’t wearing anything beneath the tracksuit. Cam’s eyebrows crawled up her forehead. Then she grinned devilishly.

“I see.” She giggled and stepped forward. “Well, don’t worry, I won’t bite… unless you want me to.”

She put a hand over mine and gently pushed the zipper down the rest of the way. It came apart with a click, and the cold air of the climate controlled room hit me across the torso. My flesh goosed, and the inner mesh of the track jacket suddenly felt chafing against my nipples.

Cam was shorter than me, but her heeled sneakers put us eye to eye. She snaked her other hand into the shoulder of my jacket, keeping eye contact with me all the while. I gulped and allowed her to help me shrug it off. It fell to the floor with a soft whuff.

“Nice,” she said with a little grin as she stepped back and looked me over. She unfurled the tape measure we’d borrowed from the staff and gestured for me to lift my arms. I raised them up and reached for the ceiling. Then she wrapped the tape around me, hooked beneath my pits and resting just above the line of my bust. It was cold against my skin, but her fingers were warm.

“Take a deep breath and then let it out for me slowly,” she said softly.

I did so, my chest heaving out on the inhale, and then settling back down on the exhale.

“Thirty-four,” she said after a moment. “Now for the cup size.” She loosened the tape and let it fall down to the widest point of my breasts before tightening it again. It bit into my flesh for a slow second before she adjusted it, a small smile growing across her face. I felt my cheeks grow hot.

“I knew it. You’re an F.”

“A what?”

“You’re an F. 34F.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, but you’re gonna have a hard time finding that size in chain stores like this. It’s not a common measurement, so they stock fewer.”

“I— I see,” I said, once more at a loss. She still had the tape wrapped around me, the space between us too small for the strangers that we were.

“Should we measure the rest of you too?” she asked, using the tape to pull us marginally closer. We were nose to nose now. She smelled sweet, like strawberries and vanilla. “Maybe your waistline… or your hips?” The tape slithered down my body as her fingers curled into the waistband of my pants. I couldn’t tell you who leaned in and kissed first, but our lips met, and my eyes closed as I tasted her honey mint lip balm. She nibbled at my bottom lip, then kissed down the line of my neck, one hand squeezing lightly at my breast, teasing at my nipple. I gasped as she pushed me gently up against the wall, working her way down my stomach, her hands pulling down my waistband and dropping my pants to the floor, exposing my naked sex to the room.

Of course you’re not wearing any undies either.” She chuckled to herself before sliding her tongue along my slit. Lightning shot up my middle and I shivered at the attention. She licked up my cut, drawing to a close around my clit, sucking at it with pursed lips. I bit my tongue as a little moan escaped me. And then… and then…

And then my cock slid out and into her sucking mouth. She sputtered and coughed as it bopped her in the back of the throat, and she recoiled in shock, her hands still gripping at my thighs.

“Oh— oh my god!” Her eyes turned to saucers as she stared up the length of my stiffening wang.

“Please don’t scream, please don’t scream. I’m sorry!” I hissed, panic rising with my dick.

She didn’t scream though, but squealed in delight instead.

“Are you for real?” And then her face broke into a huge grin. “Holy shit, you’re a fuckin’ unicorn! Does it work? Please tell me it works…” She drug her tongue from the base of my shaft to its tip and my knees buckled, my back hitting the wall of the fitting room with a muted thump.

“Aah~” I clapped my hands over my mouth, fear and excitement coursing through me. Cam flicked the tip of my dick with her tongue and then gave me a wicked smile as she rose to her feet.

“Oh, please fuck me with it. I’ll never find anyone like you again.”

“What, right now?” I gasped. “This isn’t— we can’t just—”

Sure we can, it’s just a quickie!” She pressed herself against me and whispered into my neck with a voice like spun sugar, “I can be quiet. Can you?”

The heat of her breath sent a shiver across my skin, a ripple of fire that filled me with need. Suddenly I was hot all over, and my hands found their way to her hips, creeping up beneath her skirt. I knew it was indecent. I knew it was obscene. But I didn’t want to stop. There was a frustration inside, a mounting energy that could only be released by fully indulging in the offer pushed up against me. At that moment, the curve of her breasts as they pushed up against mine awakened again that primordial desire, and she kissed me, long and deep and hungry. And I kissed her back, tasting a bit of myself as she slid her tongue into my mouth, probing at my own. I grabbed her ass and squeezed, pulling up her denim skirt and grinding my cock against the lace triangle of her thong. She reached down and pulled her underwear aside, guiding me into her heat with the other hand. I slid the head of my dick against the wetness of her opening, teasing us both with my inexperience before she cupped my butt and pushed me inside of her. I slid in with a gasp, and she pressed her mouth over mine, smothering any moans I might let out. And cry out I did, though muffled by her kiss. She was on top of me now, half suspended with her hands on the handicap rail, half held up by me as I pumped my dick in and out of her with agonizing slowness. I was terrified to move any faster, to bump the walls or make any noise at all. We slid over to the bench, and she rode me cowgirl, squeezing her vaginal muscles around my cock as she ground against me. Her cunt was hot and dripping and soft and unquestionably better than any mouth could ever be.

She arched her back and let out a sibilant exhalation of pleasure, her thighs tight about my hips, her fingers curled about my hair. I felt her clench and pulse around my dick before she started riding me again, wetter than before. It was squelching ecstasy, and my vision swam in a kaleidoscope of light and color. I buried my face into her cleavage, licking at the space between her breasts, taking in her flavor. It was more scent than taste, all strawberry short cake with a hint of salt, and it left me breathless and teetering on the edge.

“Wait— I’m gonna—” I was about to blow, and it only then occurred to me that we weren’t even using a condom— not that I was capable of impregnating her anyway, but still.

She lifted my face up out of her tits and pressed her lips to mine, our tongues entwining as she rolled her hips into mine. She pulled away just enough to whisper, in a voice all summer and sunsets, “come on, babe. Cum for me.”

And just like that I was done. I bucked into her and unloaded, wracked by my orgasm and adrift in waves of pleasure. There was a moment of breathless contentment, and then awkward staring as my dick slid out of her and back into the sheath of my anatomy, however the fuck that worked.

“Um,” I said. But Cam only laughed in response, light and breezy and carefree. I felt my face go red. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“What for?” She lifted off of me and dug a hand into her purse, pulling out a couple of wet-naps and handing one to me. I took it and gave myself a wipe down, not at all sure of what I should be saying in that moment.

Eventually I settled with, “for being so new I guess? I don’t normally get lewd in public places.” And up until last night I would’ve just left that at ‘I don’t get lewd.

Cam smiled. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t either?”

“I— seriously?”

“Well okay, I do, but not with total strangers.” She giggled. “You’re really something, aren’t you?”

“I guess so.” I pulled my pants back up from around my ankles and turned away. Now what? Ask for her number? Are you kidding me? What even is this?

“Hey now, stop looking so ashamed! I had a good time, you had a good time, it’s all good! Whatever this guilt you’re feeling is, it’s not necessary. I mean, you are single, right?”

I nodded, my stomach fluttering at the implication.

“Good! Now wait here a sec while I go find some nice bras for those ridiculous, glorious tits of yours.”

She winked and blew me a kiss, then slid out of the fitting room, taking the last vestiges of my innocence with her.

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