Dressing at Bloomingdales
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My wife knew about my crossdressing long before I married her. I couldn’t have married someone who disapproved, or from whom I had to keep it a secret.
I have a collection of lingerie I wear when we have sex. My wife enjoys how it makes me feel, and she likes to see me happy. But I don’t dress fully, and don’t own any dresses, skirts or blouses. I have a fairly masculine build, and in my mind I always thought I would look silly completely dressed. My wife had urged me to buy more clothes, but I’d always resisted. I love looking at dresses, and dreamt of dressing head-to-toe, but it’s so hard to overcome our own self-perception.
One of the benefits my wife receives from my passion for women’s fashion is an eager shopping companion with a good eye for what looks good on her and when a dress is a bargain. Size-wise, she’s on the line between the regular section and the larger sizes. Often when we’re in the Women’s Department (that wonderful euphemism for plus sizes) we’d look at dresses that might fit me. I particularly like long dresses and formal wear. But I would never buy, and certainly never thought about actually trying one on. We did often have great sex when we got home from shopping, especially if my wife would whisper about how much she wanted to see me in a dress or some lingerie.
One day we were in Bloomingdales looking at dresses for her for a series of upcoming weddings. She found a stunning Tadashi Shoji silk and lace gown. It was black, long-sleeved and ankle length. Solid from bottom to waist, it had black lace from the waist up, lace sleeves, and a solid area across the chest that had a bra-shaped appearance. We both loved it right away, and she went in to try it, with what we thought were one each of size 16 and 18.
She called me back to the dressing room (we were the only ones there). The size 16 was a good fit for her, but it hit her waist wrong. I told her it wasn’t the most flattering dress for her.
“This other one says 18 on the store tag, but it’s actually a 22 according to the manufacturer’s tag. Why don’t you try it on?” I blushed and started to stammer that I didn’t want to when I heard the sales lady’s voice behind me “There’s no way he can try that on.”
The saleslady was Rochelle, who we knew well. My wife and I usually shopped at lunch time on a weekday, and that was Rochelle’s gaziantep escort shift. Rochelle and I had often teamed up to either dissuade my wife from something that wasn’t right for her, or convince her that something she was reluctant about looked great on her.
I must have blushed the deepest red a person can. I started to explain that my wife was just joking, but Rochelle cut me off. “Oh, I’m sorry, you misunderstood me. I meant you can’t try it on without the proper undergarments. Unless you’re already wearing them?”
Well, in fact, I was wearing my black Lane Bryant panties, but I certainly wasn’t about to give up that secret. “Very funny, Rochelle.”
“Oh, come on, “she said. “You think I haven’t already figured out you’re a crossdresser? As if it wasn’t enough that you have a better eye and describe women’s clothing better than a lot of women, I’ve seen you continue to look at dresses while your wife was in the dressing rooms. And you were looking at dresses too big for your wife.”
Well, the blood was still rushing to my face, but now it was rushing somewhere else too, as I started getting hard in my panties.
“I think he’d look darling in this dress, don’t you?” my wife asked Rochelle.
“Well, I think he might be cute in a lot of things. Let’s see. But first…”
She went over to the cash register and from underneath pulled out a black bra and slip. “A customer just returned these, and I think they’re just your size. No panties, though. “
“That’s all right, he has them on, and they’re black, to boot.”
Now up to this point I’d been standing there dumbstruck, with no idea what to do or say. But when my wife said that, I looked at her with a look of horror. And I just got harder.
“Oh, come on, Willow. Have some fun!”
“Willow?” Rochelle echoed. “I like that. Very feminine.”
“Yes, Willow Melody. And she can be very a feminine person when she lets herself go.”
“Well, I’d like to meet this woman” said Rochelle.
“Give us a few minutes!” my wife replied.
With that my wife grabbed me by the hand and pulled me back to the dressing room.
All those years of resistance disappeared. I don’t know whether it was that another person had guessed my deepest secret, or that my wife had confirmed escort gaziantep that guess and added my secret name to the pile. Or that I was finally giving in to one of my favorite fantasies. Or, whatever. I just know that I no longer had the desire to fight.
Following my wife into the dressing room I adjusted my pants to make room for my raging erection.
My wife unbuttoned my shirt, and started to undo my belt when there was a knock on the dressing room door. “I’m just giving you some panty hose”, said Rochelle. What size shoe does she wear?”
My wife looked at me, and I knew I had to answer. “Size 11 in women’s. “
“Can you manage heels?” Again, that look from my wife.
“Yes” I said in a quiet voice.
“Back in a sec!”
As my wife completed undoing my belt I kicked off my shoes. Luckily I don’t wear socks with my docksiders.
My wife pulled off my pants, and I stood there in just my panties, tented though they were from my hard on. I pulled on the pantyhose (I have a long experience doing that). They were control top, and though they didn’t hide my cock, they did at least flatten it somewhat against my body.
The bra was a Wacoal full coverage bra, with wider shoulder straps. I held it up to my chest backwards, with the snaps in front, fastened it and spun it around before I put my arms through the straps. My wife started caressing my breasts, and massaging my nipples. I swooned, feeling so excited. I stopped her, or else I would have cum right there.
The slip was a Calvin Klein full slip. I love slips – they’re second only to bras for getting me excited and making me feel femme. When I put this one on I felt like I’d never felt before. I actually felt like Willow. I loved the idea of being a woman, in a woman’s dressing room. I turned around, making the slip swirl. My wife said “I love it. I love you, and I want you to be happy. I want you to be Willow for now.”
I started to pull the dress on, and my wife helped adjust it and then zip it up. It fit like it was made for me. The bra gave just enough of a lift to give me the lovely hint of a bosom. I again spun around, feeling the dress twirl. I couldn’t help but let out a girly little giggle.
Rochelle knocked on the door, and my wife opened it. She handed me a pair gaziantep escort bayan of Joan and David classic black platform pumps – my favorite shoe! I put them on, and felt tears start. What I’d wanted for so long, resisting it all along, had come true.
“Come outside, into the store,” Rochelle said. In my glee I started to, but a quick look at my reflection stopped me.
In the mirror I saw a tall, larger woman with an acceptable figure, a beautiful well-fitting dress, and amazing shoes. And on top a man’s receding hairline. I frowned (my wife later said I’d pouted). But, again, Rochelle had the answer.
From a nearby mannequin which was part of a hat sale display she took a black wig. Short, with a flip at the bottom. She placed it on my head, and for the first time in my life the reflection in the mirror was the person I’d seen in my dreams.
My wife pointed at Rochelle, then me. “Rochelle, meet Willow Melody. Willow, meet Rochelle.”
I gave a slight curtsy, at which both women smiled. “I’m pleased to meet you Rochelle” I said in a soft voice.
“And I’m very pleased to meet you finally, Willow. Why don’t you follow me?”
I did as she asked, and found myself in the store, away from the confines of the dressing room area. Surprisingly I wasn’t afraid. I was comfortable and ecstatic. Though I was still very hard, it wasn’t the erotic nature of my experience that was foremost in my mind. It was that I felt comfortable as Willow. My wife was standing by my side beaming with joy, and I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by what I saw, or that another person had been the catalyst for my transition.
I heard another voice say “That’s a lovely dress, and it looks great on you. Your husband will be very happy to see you in that, dear.” I turned to see another customer, a woman about 45, and about my size. I froze in fear, but my wife just laughed. Seeing the other customer’s puzzled look, my wife pointed at me and said “This is my husband!”
The woman looked at me again, shrugged her shoulders, and said “Well, he still looks great in that dress.” Then, looking at me she said “We big girls can’t always find things that fit so nice, eh?”
My body almost melted as the tension left it and replied “Ain’t that the truth?”
I took more time to admire myself in the mirror, and turned to Rochelle. “How can I ever thank you? I mean, you did so much for us.”
“Honey, I get commission, remember? I figure you’re not going to stop with this dress are you?”
“No, I guess not” I said. “Definitely not” said my wife.
“Good,” said Rochelle. Now you can’t go out in the mall in that evening gown, so how about something more casual?”
My wife knew about my crossdressing long before I married her. I couldn’t have married someone who disapproved, or from whom I had to keep it a secret. I have a collection of lingerie I wear when we have sex. My wife enjoys how it makes me feel, and she likes to see me happy.…
My wife knew about my crossdressing long before I married her. I couldn’t have married someone who disapproved, or from whom I had to keep it a secret. I have a collection of lingerie I wear when we have sex. My wife enjoys how it makes me feel, and she likes to see me happy.…