Confessions of a Boob Fluffer

It was a ho-hum sort of day at the store when a hot guy walked through the door. In unison our heads whipped towards the hot guy so fast I thought I would need a neck adjustment just to restore the swivel. One of the “perks” of working in a lingerie store was the hot guys who came into the store. Unfortunately, they were usually shopping for some hot girl. Not us.

We knew this one was a little different when he walked straight up to the rack of men’s thongs, held one up and said “Can I try this on?” He was holding up a tiny g-string with a pouch shaped like an elephant. He was a gorgeous hunk of a man with coal black hair that draped ever so seductively over one of his piercingly blue eyes. In unison again, Kelly and I drooled.

Looking at each other, mouths agape, we were astonished this guy didn’t fit the mold of the typical guy who enters a lingerie store. Who was this beautiful man who walked right in so unflinchingly wanting to try on the silliest thing in the store?

I was the first to recover “Uh, well, we don’t let men try things on”.

“But in your case, maybe we could make an exception” Kelly said looking at me mischievously.

He smiled, then continued to flip through a rack of men’s novelty g-strings in the shapes of snakes, roosters, alligators, chickens, tuxedos, even Groucho Marx. The two of us just stood there staring at him, rooted to the spot. It was possible that one or both of us was still drooling.

“I’m a Chippendales dancer and I need something new to wear for tonight’s show. That’s why I need to try this on so I can see how it will look. I’d really appreciate it if you could bend the rules for me” he said smiling. Oh, geez, what a beautiful smile.

Since it was the middle of the afternoon, our slow time, the store was empty. I agreed to let him try it on. “But only if you pay for the g-string first”. I knew once he tried it on I couldn’t sell it to someone else so it was best to get the money up front.

After he paid, I led him back to the dressing room and told him just to call for me if he needed any help.

“Or me” said Kelly looking at me, shrugging.

Kelly and I stood outside the dressing room giggling like young schoolgirls over the hot guy in our fitting room. We were dying to take a peek at him in that tiny g-string. Neither of us had the nerve to ask if he needed any help.

After a few minutes, he called out “Hey can I ask your opinion?”

“Sure “ we said as he strolled out the door wearing nothing but a tiny elephant shaped g-string. Oh, ok, who am I kidding? He did have that big, beautiful smile plastered across his face, but that was it. Is it possible to drool, blush and choke at the same time? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what we both did.

“How do you think this looks?” he smiled. “Is it sexy or goofy? Do you think it covers?” (Yikes! Was he asking us to look THAT CLOSE?) “You know, the law says I have to be completely covered but I want to wear as little as possible and still be within the law. Do you think this works?” then he danced around a little testing the security of that miniscule piece of gray satin elephant shaped fabric.

We were both stunned that he was standing in the middle of the store wearing a piece of fabric smaller than a loincloth. We were speechless. Even more embarrassingly, we couldn’t stop staring at the elephant, especially the trunk. Weirdly enough, visions of circus elephants flashed though my head. What the fuck, I’ll admit, I have a thing for the circus.

Eventually I coughed up a “No, it looks good. For some reason, women really love the elephant. It’s our most popular men’s g-string.”

With a shake of his hips he danced his way back into the fitting room breaking the spell he’d cast over us. Slowly the room came back into focus and we both coughed a little, clearing our thoughts more than our throats.

“Well, that was a nice little unexpected break in what has otherwise been a long and boring day” I said.

Our Chippendale’s stripper came out of the fitting room carrying his elephant g-string and asked for a small bag to put it in.

“So” he started, “would the two of you like to go to tonight’s show? Every show they give us tickets to give away and you’ve been so helpful. Would you like to go to the show?”

“Sure, that is, if you have extra tickets” Kelly said, then added “do all the guys look like you?”.

He chuckled before answering “Well, yeah, more or less, I guess”.

“Definitely yes, we want tickets” I chirped.

He handed kelly several passes and on his way out the door promised to send some of his fellow dancers to the store.

Kelly and I lapsed back into giggly school girl mode again and counted the tickets. He had given us six tickets so we had to decide which of our four girlfriends to take. We spent the better part of the next two hours discussing/arguing about who should go. In the middle of our debate a few very hunky looking guys came into the store.

“What, they move in packs?” whispered kelly under her breath.

I shrugged. “Who cares so long as they come in here” I whispered back. To the hunky guys I said “Anything we can help you guys with?”

“Yeah, our buddy was in here earlier and bought a g-string with an elephant on it. Do you have anything else like that? But maybe not the same thing?” said the gorgeous blond one.

Kelly jabbed me with her elbow and mumbled “Oh my God! I think these are more Chippendale’s dancers!”.

I looked at her and mumbled back “Well, duh, do you think we get hot guys like that in here everyday?”

To the guys I said “Are you Chippendales dancers too?” Always best to be sure before sticking my foot in my big mouth.

“Yeah, we have a show tonight and are looking for something new to wear. What do you have?” answered a cutie. He was short but, yeesh, look at those muscles!

“The men’s g-strings are all over here on this rack” I answered.

They converged on the rack pulling out tiny hangers hung with tiny g-strings. After about five or ten minutes they came to the counter, each with a few hangers in their hands.

“Could we try these on?” the blond asked.

“Sure, but you have to pay first” I answered, cheekily adding “and you have to model them for us”. Kelly coughed a bit at that.

“Ok” they answered and disappeared into the fitting room after paying.

First one, then another came out of the dressing room modeling assorted animals and tuxedos, some with tails. We hooted and cheered for each guy provoking a few dance moves and thrusts. You would have thought we were in a club. I started to reach for my wallet to tip them.

After the last g-string had been modeled, they left the store promising private table dances for us that night.

Later that evening, we showed up at the club with our four most deserving friends to see ‘our’ Chippendales dancers. True to their word each gave us a private table dance. Nice as the table dance was it just didn’t compare to the private dance we had that afternoon.

Was I embarrassed by my blatant objectification of these men? Yeah, sure, but how often do women get to be the chauvinist pig? I figured we were just chalking one up for the ladies. Smile.