“Excuse me, but could you please help me with this?” he asked.

“Sure, what is it you’re looking for?” replied the young, cute women’s clothing shop salesgirl.

“I’m trying to find the right size miniskirt.”

“Oh, for your girlfriend?” she asked, not seeing a wedding band on his ring finger.  “What’s her size?”

“Well, that’s just the problem.”

“You don’t know her size,” she said, holding up a couple of skirts.

“No.”

“That’s ok, it happens all the time.  Do you think her waist is wider or narrower than mine?” she asked, twirling and trying to be helpful.  He was stunningly handsome and had a ‘V’ shaped physique.  Broad shoulders, narrow hips, bulging biceps.  He wore a tight t-shirt that hid very little of his rock-solid pecks.  His jeans were loose-fitting, but she could see he was packing something large in them.  She immediately wanted to be as accommodating as possible and she was grateful to show off her own feminine form for him to compare her with his girlfriend.

“No, I don’t think you understand,” he said.  “It’s not for my girlfriend.”

“Oh?”

“It’s for me.”

“For you?”

“Yes.  And these are only in women’s sizes, understandably.”

She chuckled and asked, “Are you getting ready for Halloween?”  It was only August.

“No,” he said, secretly delighting in the bombshell he was about to drop.  He had never done this before.  He was nervous about her reaction.  But he also had been looking forward to this moment, vividly imagining it in all its detail, and spending lots of time choosing just the right sales assistant for the job.  He didn’t even know it before Lola, but it had become his particular kink.  “I’m a cross-dresser,” he said nervously, the blood rushing to his flush face.  “I’m looking for a skirt for me.  And maybe some panties, a garter, and maybe a nice choker.”  He said it all very fast, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

She was young.  Inexperienced.  Innocent.  Naive.  She couldn’t conceal the surprised look on her face.  That’s exactly what he was hoping for.  But he also was wracked with fear that she would laugh, or worse, call security.  His heart was thumping in his chest.  He could hear the blood beating like a drum in his neck and ears.

Now for stage two.

“Well, uh, what is your size?”  She asked foolishly.  But then she corrected herself.  “No, you know what, here, I’ll just measure you.”  She played it off as if she had had many customers with the same request.  In fact, she had never even fathomed an encounter like this.  But something about it – probably his amazingly good looks and his disarmingly polite, even shy demeanor – made her feel at ease and willing to help.

She wrapped a measuring tape around his hips.  She liked getting her face close to his abs.  She didn’t linger too long.  She did some quick calculations.  “What style were you interested in?”

He pulled up a couple of very skimpy skirts, barely six inches in length.  “Something like this.”  They were pink.  One had a plaid pattern on it.

“OK,” she said, trying to be cool.  These were sexy outfits.  She felt a twitch between her legs.  “Let’s get you something in your size and get you in the fitting room.”

“Will you help me pick it out?  I’m new at this.”

She laughed flirtatiously.  He was at least five, maybe seven years older than she.  “Of course I will.  That’s my job.”

They picked out a few items and then they walked to the fitting room together.  She had to tell the other shopgirl that it was ok.  They often had men waiting for their wives and girlfriends outside the fitting room, but never one go inside, to try on something like this!

She followed him in.  He took the items.  He tried them on.  When he found one that he thought fit, he opened the door to let her see.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She looked, mouth wide open, as she saw him in a pink frilled mini-skirt, his giant cock bulging out from the bottom, supported and veiled by tight white lace panties.  He was bare-chested.  She had never seen such an Adonis as this perfect man!

“Um, is that the look you’re going for?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, uh, well, you’re not exactly covered.”

“I like that.”

“Then I think it looks fabulous!”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Really.”

“I have a few more to try on.”

He shut the door.  Now her face was flush.  Her heartbeat was thumping in her chest.

A few moments later, he opened the door and asked again, “What do you think?”

This time he was wearing a pink plaid mini-skirt and white lace stockings held up by a garter belt.  The tip of his uncut cock protruded a good two inches below the hemline.

She looked at him, speechless.

“Oh.  My.  God.”

“What?” he asked.

“Um, I’m sorry, uh.”  She fumbled.  She had never, ever seen anything like this.

They spent the better part of an hour trying on different items.  Her imagination went wild as she dressed him up in tight panties, stockings, even a bra.  She loved touching his rock-hard flesh.

She had orgasms before, but never had she had a hands-free, contact-free orgasm.  This one happened merely as a result of being in his presence.  She creamed her panties and she knew she’d have to leave work early.

Before her assistance was over, she asked, “Where do you plan on wearing these?”

He pulled out his phone and showed her the wallpaper of the homepage.  It was a sexy photo of a beautiful, buxom, brunette.  “They’re for my girlfriend, Lola,” he said.

And, indeed, he wasn’t lying.  Lola had instructed him to put her photo on his phone and to do everything that you have just read and to tell the shopgirl that Lola was his girlfriend.

Later that day, he brought all his lingerie home and did a photoshoot for Lola and relayed how he obediently fulfilled her instructions.