Read the previous parts of the story here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
The new dress my husband picked out was scandalous. If anything, it made the one he ripped off me look modest.
It was in my size, so it didn’t squeeze me, but turning this way and that in the dressing room mirror, I was quite convinced that it revealed more than it covered.
The plunging neckline forbade the use of a bra, and though the girls were contained, it was a daring look to say the least. Below them, the high waistline and flared skirt flattered my tummy and my hips, but the hem stopped short of mid-thigh. It was almost, but not quite, as short as my modest one-piece bathing suit, but I wasn’t wearing this to the beach.
A week ago, I wouldn’t even have considered it, but as I continued to appraise the woman staring back at me from the mirror, I had to concede that I liked what I saw. The reflection looked confident, secure, and—I dared to think—even sexy. I couldn’t say that I had conquered all my insecurities, but remembering the difference in how I had felt just a few days ago brought tears to my eyes.
Not wanting to turn into a blubbering mess, I quickly wiped the tears and prepared to present myself to my husband. But after I wiggled and tugged at my skirt, my attention was drawn to the neckline. Part of me couldn’t believe that my husband wanted me to wear this, and part of me couldn’t believe that I was.
I had never considered myself showy or a tease, but there would be no pretending that I didn’t know how much of my body was in plain sight. But I wasn’t doing this for attention. I was doing this for my husband. A little arousal crept through me and I thought, If I do get noticed, what’s the harm?
Smiling to myself, I let my fingers trace the material along the neckline. As I did so, my palms brushed across my nipples, and they immediately responded. Goosebumps broke out across my skin and a tiny moan escaped my mouth. That felt good and I brushed them again, this time on purpose.
A heavier moan resulted and I began cupping and playing with them in earnest. Looking in the mirror, my face and chest became flushed and I felt an awakening down below. Naughty girl, I thought, but I didn’t stop.
Humming and swaying while the sensations built, I began a slow striptease, slipping first one strap off my shoulder, then the other. I pretended to hear encouragement from an unseen audience wanting to see more, and turned away while looking back at the mirror.
Bunching the material at my waist, I started rolling and pinching my nipples. This sent shockwaves to my pussy and my knees nearly buckled. I turned back to face the mirror, but in my imagination, now the audience was gone and it was just my husband watching me.
“Do you like what you see, baby?” I asked.
In my mind’s eye, my husband slowly stroked his cock as he watched his private show. My arousal surged and the dress was suddenly in the way. Whisking it over my head, I moved to sit down on the bench opposite the mirror.
Cupping, kneading, and sucking my tits, the pleasure built until I could no longer ignore the wetness between my legs. In one smooth motion, I lifted my hips and dropped my panties around my ankles. With one hand, I continued to play with my pillowy flesh while two fingers from the other slipped inside my sticky folds.
A sheen of sweat broke out across my skin and my breaths grew heavy as I enjoyed the decadent pleasure of being my own voyeur.
Oh Diana, you are hot, I thought. Yeah baby, that’s it, I whispered to myself, bringing myself closer and closer to the brink.
My hands became a flurry and I was panting now, chasing that last little bit of stimulation to bring me over.
In the mirror, my husband said, “Cum for me baby,” and that was all I needed. My pussy clamped around my fingers, my knees slammed shut, and my head dropped back in sweet, torturous release.
While my breathing slowly returned to normal, I continued to enjoy the slow feel of my own hands on my skin. When I finally looked up again, there was a blissful, post-orgasmic, naked, hot plus-size woman in the mirror. Not quite believing I had just done that, I couldn’t help but give a little happy laugh. Blowing myself a kiss, I winked and thought, You know what? You are beautiful.
Clarity started setting in. I knew I had been in here too long, and my husband still hadn’t seen me in this dress. Slipping it on and fixing myself as much as possible, I gave one last glance in the mirror and opened the door.
My husband sat alone in the waiting area with his legs crossed, a damp tent in his pants, and a smirk.
“Have fun?” he asked.
I replied innocently, “Whatever do you mean?”
Motioning to my foot, he said, “Well, for one thing, what’s left of your panties is around your ankle.”
I gasped when I looked, and then burst out laughing.
I reached down to remove my ruined panties. When I stood up, I found his hand held out. He said, “I’ll take those.”
He put them into his pocket, then took me in his arms and kissed me. Pulling back, he said, “I love you, baby, and I can’t wait to rip this dress off of you too.”
I smiled playfully and answered, “Well then, we had better buy two.”
We did.
Arm-in-arm, we left the store, giggling and laughing like two teenagers. This had been fun, but he still had an erection, and it was time for him to take me home.
To be continued next week in the epilogue.
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