One weekday morning many years ago I was trying on some tops in the fitting room of a local store.
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Jilling in the Fitting Room
I had been vaguely aware on my way in that there was somebody else in one of the booths almost opposite mine, and as I was getting changed I happened to glance through the gap at the side of my curtain and noticed that I could see into this other booth as the curtain wasn't completely closed.
The booths all had full-length mirrors on the back wall and I suddenly realised that I could see the reflection of the woman who was in there. She was facing the mirror, still dressed from the waist down, but wearing only a black bra on top. And I could see that her right breast was actually hanging out of her bra and being cradled in her two hands.
For a second I thought I had simply caught a "snapshot" moment of this woman just easing her breast into the cup of a new bra she was trying on. But as I watched, it dawned on me that she was, in fact, having a "private moment" with her own breast, squeezing it, caressing it, and generally playing with her nipple. Eventually her right hand slid down across her bare tummy, over her thigh and up and under her skirt, whilst she continued to explore her breast thoroughly with her left hand.
Of course I didn't need to be able to see exactly what her right hand was doing, for it was now obvious to me that I'd quite unexpectedly happened upon another woman enjoying her own body in private [the way we girls do!] and, what's more, with the help of the mirror she was apparently enjoying the sight of herself doing so!
Needless to say, I was mesmerised. Even though I was about 20 or 21 at the time, and had had plenty of private practice myself, I had never actually seen another woman masturbating before. Nevertheless I could guess the feelings she must have been feeling and, of course, it was catching. It was a very intimate moment and before long my own right hand was up and under my skirt and fiddling with my clitoris inside my panties, as I tried to stay quiet and hidden behind my curtain.
Even though I was trying not to miss a second of what was happening across the way, I must inevitably have closed my eyes and just floated away on my own dreaminess and juiciness. But I was suddenly brought back to reality by the sound of a series of muffled gasps, and I could see in the woman's face, and by the way her whole body tensed and quivered, that she was actually coming.
And as you'd naturally expect, the very thought that here I was, secretly sharing a total stranger's private orgasm, was all it took to push me right over the edge too. My own arousal just burst forth right out of me and I came all over my own fingers.
I must have floated away again with my own sexy thoughts and feelings - and I only came back to full awareness when the sound of a curtain being jerked along a metal rail made me start back to proper consciousness.
It was the other woman, of course, now fully dressed and carrying her handbag and the clothes she must have been trying on, just stepping out of her cubicle, no doubt about to leave. The noise she'd made drawing the curtain must have startled me into making some kind of noise or movement myself - whatever it was, it made her look in my direction and she did a kind of double-take, and instead of heading off towards the exit, she faltered and then changed direction, walking the few steps across towards my booth.
Of course I just cowered behind my curtain, hardly daring to move or breathe. But of course, she could see me there - it even crossed my mind that maybe she'd known all along that I'd been watching her love herself all the way to orgasm; perhaps it had all been a deliberate show just for me - to this day I'm still not sure, though I have to say she had clearly already started loving herself before I ever first caught sight of her there.
Anyway, whatever the truth of it all, I suddenly realised what it was that she was actually looking at as she crossed over towards me.
In watching her and playing with myself at the same time, I must have emulated her and hoisted just one of my own breasts out to play with - because here I now stood, just like she had been, fully dressed below the waist, with just my bra on on top. And there in all its glory was my naked right breast - the one closest to the gap in the curtain - still hanging out over the top of my crumpled bra-cup, my dark, puckered nipple standing completely to attention like a rather large hatpeg!
I stood stock-still as this slim, forty-something brunette came towards me, a knowing smile on her lips and a blush still visible on her cheeks. Because of what I'd just witnessed her doing for herself, I remember wondering whether anybody else meeting her right now would ever guess that her blush was due to the fact that she had just orgasmed! And I remember thinking how privileged I was because I knew this private secret!
But a second later this stranger's face was inches from mine, as she stuck her head through the gap beside the curtain and, surprise of surprises - she simply planted the softest little kiss on my cheek. I was struck dumb! She then stepped back, looked down at my bare tit and whispered, "Thank you!" [I'm still not sure what exactly she was thanking me for!]
For a moment she looked as if she was about to go away. But then she turned back towards me, looked me in the eye again and quietly said, "You're not finished yet, are you, sweetheart?"
This whole turn of events simply took the wind out of my sails - I thought I knew what she meant, but I wasn't going to make an idiot of myself getting it wrong. What was I to say anyway?!! Crazy as it sounds now, I suppose I was still somehow afraid she might accuse me of invading her privacy and peeking at her while she was getting changed in her booth! Oh, the hang-ups and inexperience of youth!
So I just stood there, my face still red-hot with my own post-orgasmic glow and my own naked tit very visibly hanging out just inches away from this total stranger, and me embarrassingly aware that my nipple, rather than behaving itself, felt as if it was trying to reach out and touch her! I just stood there, afraid to move, afraid to say anything - silly girl that I was in those days!
Without any further ado, the woman just put her bag and other stuff down onto the floor at her feet. She leaned forwards into my cubicle again and simply planted her mouth around my entire erect nipple and its surrounding puckered areola. I must say, it felt heavenly and my whole body just melted at the touch of her warm lips.
I felt her two hands wrapping themselves gently around my breast, purposefully lifting it and feeding it into her mouth, then squeezing it softly to make my nipple come forwards so that she could latch on properly.
She then simply proceeded to suckle me, sucking and tonguing my teat round and round inside her mouth, alternately kissing my breast tenderly, then sucking on my straining teat much more vigorously, just brazenly milking me like some thirsty but loving infant.
I just planted my hands flat against the walls on either side of me, closed my eyes and let her just get on with what she was doing. I felt my breast expanding in her hands, my nipple thickening and hardening and lengthening inside her mouth. And I could feel how my love-hole was still swollen and slick from my own orgasmic fingering a few minutes before. And it wasn't long before her suckling on my teat sent shock-waves down the nerves that directly connect tit, clit and cunt. The throbbing instantly started again and my honeypot was soon heaving and pumping stickily, in time with the rhythm of her hands and mouth, as she purposefully milked me nearer and nearer to the edge.
She knew what she was doing and I knew that she knew what I was feeling - and I knew that I was safe in her hands. I knew I was going to come again, but this time my orgasm and ecstasy would come purely from the tenderness and intimacy that this understanding stranger was showing me, woman to woman, sexual creature to sexual creature.
And of course it did happen - I came, and I came, and I came. The lust and passion as she blatantly tongued and tugged at my teat simply unleashed an explosive volcanic eruption throughout my whole being - I saw stars and colours flashing before my eyes, I felt an uncontrollable quivering coursing through my limbs right to my very extremities. And I felt the heat of my bubbling love-juice as it flowed like molten lava, pouring from my inner depths and out via my cunt into my sopping wet panties.
And she knew just when to stop - when that magical moment had arrived when my tingling teat and my quivering clitty and my honey-drenched love-hole simply couldn't take any more. As I stood there quaking, with my insides trembling, my sex-lips throbbing and my honey-hole pumping between my shaking, quaking legs, she took her mouth carefully away from my engorged teat and whispered quietly, "That's it, sweetheart - always come just for you!"
Then reaching out to take my two hands, she guided me gently backwards onto the seat at the back of the cubicle. She kissed me tenderly on the cheek and gave me a final smile as she retreated and pulled the curtain carefully shut to restore my privacy as I slowly returned to planet Earth. I was vaguely aware of her picking her things up and making her way back out into the store, whilst I just sat there letting my breathing return to normal and basking in the aftermath of my orgasmic body-quake.
As you might guess, I went back to that store so many times over the following months, but I never ever saw her there again, nor anywhere else for that matter!
I have no idea who she was or where she came from, but even now, nearly forty years later, I still think of her as my own special guardian-angel of loving lust. She simply came out of nowhere and in those few incredible minutes we spent physically close to one another she taught me so, so much about herself and myself, her feelings and my feelings, about being a woman and being proud to have whatever sexuality nestles within us.
In those magical moments there was such intimacy and tenderness, yet unashamed directness and honesty about the joy of lust, of simply helping yourself [or a companion!] to an orgasm [or two!] if that's the way you happen to be feeling.
In my head and with my body I have relived those moments so many times over the last forty years - and that stranger simply has no idea how many years she and her self-loving have been vividly alive in my soul. Nor does she have the faintest idea how many hundreds and hundreds of orgasms she has gifted to me and the lovers I've told this story to over the last forty years.
But then again, perhaps she does!