Date: Mon, 18 Oct 2010 09:55:11 +0100 From: Zero Minus Zero Subject: Bra shopping This is a work of pure fiction. No events in this story actually happened and all characters are figments of the author's imagination. Enjoy! My best friend Leslie and I went bra shopping for the first time the other day. I hadn't really been on an especially adult shopping trip with just her, without either of our mums, but there's a first time for everything. My mum had pressed the best part of a hundred quid into my hands when I'd told her that I needed new underwear, a school skirt, tights, a hockey jumper and a few casual t shirts. "Well do it yourself, then," she quipped, "it's not as if you'd listen to my opinion anyway." I texted Leslie and we arranged to spend a full day in town together shopping, with a nice long lunch thrown in at the middle. It sounds a bit childish to say that it was pretty much the most grown up thing I've ever done, but that's the truth. We decided to get the boring things out of the way first, so we walked round Marks & Spencer looking for a nice packet of cheap, functional plain knickers for me. We giggled over chosing a pack of seven innocuous white ones with subtle patterns and Leslie commented that she fancied looking at the bras. "I hardly need one," I moaned, covering my chest with my free hand subconsciously, "I'm nothing compared to you." "Oh, don't be silly Pri, you have something there, for sure. What are you? A? B?" "Er... A I guess, I'm not really sure. My mum got me a couple about six months ago but I don't always wear them. Sometimes for PE at school, but that's about it. I think they were double A. Maybe. I'm not sure, they seem to fit OK." "Oh my dear Pri, don't worry about it. They'll come. I pretty much do need one, because I'm a B. But I was thinking of getting a fitting. Fancy joining me? They're supposed to be good here." I absent mindedly fingered a lacy red number that hung on the shelf in front of me. "I guess so. But I'm not wearing one now. Does that mean the fitter will see my, er... chest?" "Priya my love, I'm afraid that's just something you'll have to get used to. And think about it logically. Either you're as flat as a pancake, in which case the fitter will have nothing to see, or you're big enough to warrant a fitting. Either way you can't lose!" I laughed. This was why we were best friends, because Leslie could always put me at ease and make me happy. She led me to a member of staff and asked about fitting. The girl - not a lot older than us really, you could work in these places from sixteen and we were only three years younger - nodded and led us to the fitting rooms. "This might sound weird, but can we do it together?" asked my friend, as forthright as ever. "We're best friends," she added unnecessarily. The fitter agreed and we entered a changing cubical together. It was one of those ones with swigning salloon doors, like in a cowboy film. "Er, just take your tops off," called the girl over the door. "But you can leave your bra on, if you're wearing one." "I am," said Leslie, peeling off her T Shirt to reveal a nice white bra with a pretty swirly pattern on. It was classic, yet sexy, and made her look beautiful, as always. I embarrassingly unbuttoned my blouse to reveal to the world my small pert breasts. "I'm, er, not," I whispered inaudibly as the girl came back in, holding a tape measure. "That's fine," she said to me in a kind voice. "You'd be amazed how many women don't come in in bras for this. Big old ladies with saggy tits and everything," she laughed. I suspected that this line was rehearsed to put her embarrassed younger customers as ease but I laughed along with her nevertheless. She told me to hold my arms up, which I did as she wrapped the tape measure around my body and measured just below my bust. My little nipples were rock hard but she appeared not to notice. "Now put your arms down," she said as she looked at my chest, analysing my chest. "I think I'll get you a few different sizes to try, just in case, but it looks like you're probably a 32A." She looked me in the eye and smiled. "There's definitely something there, sweetheart, don't worry. And they'll almost certainly grow more over the next few years." She turned to Leslie who already had her arms up. "I don't need to measure you if you're wearing a bra," the girl laughed. "Just tell me what size it is and I'll bring a few possibilities." When she told the girl that she was wearing a 36B, the girl frowned. "That might not be right, you know. I think actually you could even be a 34C. It's common to wear the back too large and the cup too small," she explained. After she had left to fetch some samples, we both collapsed into giggles. "You're wearing completely the wrong size!" I laughed at her. "You're nipples are bloody enormous!" she hissed back at me, "it's not that bloody cold!" We stood sniggering at each other until the lady came back and passed three bras over the top of the door to Leslie and three to me, with instructions to try then all on, then at the end put on the one that's most comfortable and call her back in. She said she'd be back in five minutes as we did so. I examined the sizes I'd been given: 32AA, 32A and 32B. It seemed that the number wasn't in dispute, even if the letter was. "What did you get?" I asked Leslie who replied that she had a 34B and C, along with a 32C. "I think the 32 might be a little optimistic," she smiled ruefully at me. As we tried on our collections I couldn't help but notice my friend's wonderful chest. Her breasts were just so perfectly sized, just the amount I could hold in my hand. And her nipples! They were just so pink and perfect, so different to what I was used to with my brown Indian skin. I had seen my cousins' breasts once or twice over the years, getting dressed for weddings and trying on saris and so on, so a pale pink breast was a real novelty to me. Trying on bras with my best friend suddenly felt like a real privilege: an intimate rite of passage that bonded us closer. In the end, I settled for the 32A (the B cup was, at least for the time being, a fantasy) while to my amazement, Leslie's 32C was the best fit for her, and confirmed as "perfect" by the fitting girl. I stupidly asked if I could keep mine on, but the girl laughed and said she'd have to scan their bar codes first when we paid for them, but suggested putting them on in the toilets afterwards if we were really keen. We giggled once more and slipped them off so that the could be taken to the till, this time with me forgetting to be embarrassed and exposing my chest to both the girl and Leslie as the girl stood at the saloon door, propping it open and I didn't even care at that point if any other women walked past. They didn't and we had yet another moment to laugh about as we paid for our new clothes and then left the shop with lunch on our minds. We had a lovely afternoon. We had a nice lunch at Pizza Express and spent a long time in the afternoon looking at dresses for Leslie, who was in the mood for one. She eventually settled for a nice flowing summer frock with lovely bold flower prints. Then I decided that as she lived far away, Leslie should stay the night at my house and her mum agreed. We headed home in the afternoon and watched TV until dinner time, then went upstairs to my bedroom to try on our new clothes. First of all, Leslie paraded her dress in front of me and looked absolutely gorgeous in it. The colour matched perfectly her short dark hair and its shape hugged her body perfectly. Her boobs looked fantastic in their new C cup bra. "Oh, your bra!" squealed Leslie. "You never put it on. Oh you must try it now, let's see what it looks like." I unbuttoned my blouse and put my new bra on, allowing my friend a long look at my budding breasts, which she drank in deeply. I hooked up the back. "Wow," breathed Leslie. "Your first proper bra. Double A doesn't count, you know. But why don't you try on the rest of your clothes?" "Rest of them? That's it, isn't it? I've shown you the t shirt already." "What about these?" she asked slyly, holding up the packet of knickers that I had bought that morning. I'd forgot all about them. "Really?" I asked doubtfully. "Are you sure?" "You don't *have* to, but it would be nice to see how they match with your bra." "OK." I reluctantly acquiesced, unsure whether to take it as more fun dressing up games or something more sinister. I tugged my jeans off and sat on the edge of my bed to slip off my socks. In just my underwear, I opened up the packet and selected a pair of white cotton panties with a simple repeating blue polka dot pattern. Leslie watched as I slipped down my current knickers, fully aware that my best friend was staring at my small triangle of dark hair down there as I did so, and finally pulled the new pair up. I stood up and faced her. "There! What do you think?" "Gorgeous," said Leslie as she walked towards me, held my shoulders and spun me round so that I was facing the mirror as she stood close behind me. She stroked my hair. "Very nice," she murmured. Her hands fell to my shoulders. "Nice new bra," she whispered. Her fingers then fell to my stomach as she stroked my belly button. I felt her breath on the back of my neck. Suddenly I was all stiff and tingly, though I wasn't entirely sure why. Her hands were on my hips, fingering the waistband of my new pants. "Lovely," murmured Leslie, practically in a trance now. Her fingers stroked the material at the top of my legs and slowly moved closer to my mound. I didn't object as she ran them up and down the top of my pussy lips, brushing against the hair beneath the material. I stared into her eyes via the mirror. "Take your dress off," I told her. The spell was broken. She looked frightened. "What?" "Take your dress off. I want to feel your skin against my back." She nodded and quickly slipped it off her shoulders, leaving us both standing in our underwear. She pressed her belly against the small of my back so that I could feel it and moved her hands back to between my legs, stroking and tickling away as the tingles deep inside my body continued. A hand floated up to my chest and brushed one of my boobs. I realised that, through the padding, my nipples were firmly erect. Leslie dived her hand inside the material and squeezed, causing me to moan in pleasure. She continued to massage my boobs with one hand, which I found absolutely delightful, while with the other hand she moved back down to my knickers and slid her fingers under the waistband. My friend brushed past my small triangle of growing hair and found my pussy lips, which she proceeded to stroke as they gradually became lubricated with my fluids. I moaned and moaned as I twisted and swayed my body against Leslie's massaging hands and tried to reach around and touch her body without losing our front-to-back position in front of the mirror. I managed to run my hands against her thighs and feel her plump bottom through her underwear. "Take your bra off," I instructed her, "I want to feel your boobs against my skin." "OK, but you too," she agreed as we both unhooked ourselves and Leslie pressed her body hard against mine, her large, C cup breasts warm against my naked back. I watched in the mirror as her hands roamed all over my body, her fingers pinching my small, hard nipples and her pink hands dashing in and out of my now sopping wet underpants. "You are fucking gorgeous, my love," she moaned into my ear. "But I'm so fucking frustrated right now. Can we please just make each other come already?" I nodded and she led me to my bed and instructed me to remove my underwear and lie on the bed, naked, which I duly did. She sighed and admired my body as she stood by the bed and slipped her own knickers off. Then she climbed on top of my prone body so that her head was towards my tummy and her bottom was practically right up against my face. "What are you doing?" I asked, suddenly scared that she was going to do something horrible. "Don't worry, my love, I promise this will be nice. I'm going to lick your pussy, OK?" She let me digest this information. No one, other than me, had ever touched me down there before, that I could remember. The idea of someone licking me seemed bizarre. I almost laughed. "OK," I agreed, trusting my friend. "But you have to lick me at the same time, " she added. "Try to focus on my clit, if you can." To hear Leslie say the word clit! It was so strange! I had only ever seen the word before in biology class, in a medicalised, sterile context. The way she spoke, it was if she were some kind of sex expert. Maybe she was. But I'd never even masturbated before in my life: I knew what it was, that was all. Leslie lowered her face into my crotch and slowly began licking my lips up and down. It was the most delicious feeling I had ever had before in my life. After a while she used a couple of fingers to spread my labia and let her tongue tantalise my clit. I moved my face towards her pussy and rubbed my nose in her thick black bush (thick compared to mine, at least). I was enthralled by her peach-coloured skin, which I found just so beautiful. I clumsily licked her from clit all the way round to her asshole, lapping at it like a dog. Leslie grunted in pleasure, so I upped my speed, splitting her lips open with my tongue and finishing off each stroke in the musky puckered region of her anus. My friend on top of me focused more and more on my clit, rubbing it continuously with her tongue, bringing me close to orgasm. I followed suit, and focused more on Leslie's protruding little nub, and the more I lapped at it, the wetter her vagina became. I could taste the salty juices as the dripped into my mouth and relished them as the nicest drink I had ever tried. Suddenly, Leslie started juddering and writhing on top of me, grinding her crotch down into my face. Equally, I felt an orgasm close by and pushed my bottom up in to the air, pressing my clit against her face. As she unloaded a cup full of clear liquid into my mouth - part come, part urine, I suspected - I gasped as finally my moment arrived, and I couldn't stop myself from screaming out in delight. Leslie collapsed on top of me, exhausted, and I let her lie there for a while, as we just listened to each other breath. The first ting I said to her was, "have you ever done that before?" as I was terrified that she was some kind of promiscuous dyke who was just using me for an orgasm, rather than any kind of genuine friend. I needn't worried. Leslie just shook her head and ask said, "no, never. I just got so turned on when we tried on those bras together today, I thought I simply must make you strip in front of me on some kind of pretence. If I could do that, I knew that anything was possible. And you?" I laughed. "No, of course not. In fact, that might be my first ever orgasm." Leslie raised an eyebrow. I told her that I was from a modest Indian family and that masturbation was not an encouraged activity. She rolled her eyes and told me that she'd been pleasuring herself for years, since about the age of nine. I was shocked, but then I reconsidered, as I decided that it is not the place of a naked girl covered in come to be shocked. I smacked my friend's bare bottom playfully. "Come on Leslie, let's get ready for bed. I just hope you hadn't planned on too much sleeping tonight."