Getting Married Set Me Free Pt 03 by vanessa.evans
Discover the tantalizing journey in 'Getting Married Set Me Free Pt. 03' by vanessa.evans. This steamy erotic sex story explores the liberating power of love and uninhibited passion. Dive into a world of desire, intimacy, and awakening—perfect for those seeking excitement in their romantic lives. Read more to indulge in this intoxicating tale!<br/>
Getting Married Set Me Free from my strict Catholic upbringing
Getting Married Set Me Free
by Vanessa Evans
Part 3
Day 1 in our new home.
Fortunately, we still had a few days before Dylan had to go back to work and we spent the first one of them in central London buying me a whole new wardrobe, one more befitting a girl my age who liked showing lots of skin, and certainly not including any jeans or shorts.
I didn’t have anything suitable to wear the first time that we went shopping so I took a pair of scissors to the last of my old, mother bought dresses and turned it into a mini dress. Dylan liked what I had done but he still didn’t like the fabric, complaining that he couldn’t feel my body heat through it, nor see the bulges that my nipples should be making.
That dress was going to get left in the changing room of the second shop that we bought clothes in. All my other, mother bought, clothes were going to get bagged up and delivered to a charity shop.
As we walked to the Underground station I told Dylan that it felt strange walking the streets of London wearing so little and not looking out of place, that I felt as if I was being naughty.
Dylan stopped, turned to face me and gave me a long kiss. At the same time his right hand went between us and his fingers slid along my slit. When the kiss broke Dylan lifted his hand, showed me his wet fingers and said,
“Well there’s the evidence that you are enjoying wearing so little in public Esther, I guess that the exhibitionist in you has well and truly surfaced.”
I bent my head a little and sucked his fingers then replied,
“I guess that it has, and you know what, I’m loving every second of it. Girls are so lucky and I’ve missed out on so much. I never want to wear underwear ever again.”
“You’ll have to be careful if you’re going to wear very short skirts all the time Esther.”
“Why, I like other people seeing my pussy. Is that so wrong?”
“Not in my book lover, I love watching people’s faces when they realise what they can see.”
I’d been using the Underground all my life, even going to school on it, and never even thought about the breeze that rushes through most of the stations. Nor had I ever thought anything about upskirting. The clothes that my mother had me wear meant that there was never an issue, but as soon as we walked into the Underground station near my new home in that cut-down dress I realised that things were different.
I should have realised the difference when we came back from the honeymoon but I had other things on my mind at that time.
The breeze blew up the dress and tickled my bare pussy.
“This breeze is nice.” I said to Dylan.
“Yes, I can imagine that it is, wait until we go up an escalator.”
I realised exactly what Dylan meant straight away and my brain started thinking about Underground stations, breezes and escalators, not only on the Underground but in shopping centres. By the time we’d got to the platform my clit and nipples were hard and tingling and if it hadn’t been for the breeze I’m sure that all of my pussy and inner thighs would have been wet.
As we exited the Underground in the centre of London I asked Dylan if I could follow him up the escalators. Dylan smiled and agreed but I never looked behind and below me to see if anyone was looking up my skirt.
The first shop that we went in was a big, chain fashion store and as we browsed the garments I was amazed by all the thin, light-weight and often see-through fabrics that ladies clothes are made of today. A total contrast from the heavy-weight clothes that I was used to wearing before I got married.
We ***********ed a few garments and headed for the changing rooms, only to be disappointed that Dylan couldn’t come in with me. Instead I had to put on each garment and then go and show Dylan. Each time that I went out there was always at least one other guy there waiting for their partner and I got turned on when I went out wearing a see-through garment that was intended to be worn over something else, but I wore nothing under them.
When I saw one of the other guys looking at me I took my time, even bending over with my back to the guys and asking Dylan if he could see anything that he shouldn’t be able to. Each time Dylan said not, but I’d already bent over in the changing cubicle and looked in the mirror behind me through my legs so I knew which skirt was short enough for Dylan and the other guy(s) to see my bare butt and pussy.
We bought 5 skirts, 2 dresses and 5 tops in that store before moving on to the next store where we had a similar problem with the changing rooms,
Dylan ripped off the label from one of the dresses from the first store and I wore that dress when we left that second store, leaving my mother bought dress in the changing room.
Oh, we bought 4 dresses in that second store.
Even walking through the shopping centre in that new dress felt so different. It was so light that I had to check a couple of times that I still had the dress on and that it was covering my pussy. I also liked the fact that when I looked down at my chest I could just about make out the darker shade of skin of my areolae around my protruding nipples.
Dylan said that I looked amazing.
When we went up an escalator to the second floor with Dylan in front of me I was sure that the middle-aged man behind me could see my bare butt up the back of that dress and when I looked back over my shoulder I saw him quickly turn his head to one side. I smiled and felt a little tingle in my clit.
Then it was a shoe shop. It was one of those self-service ones and the only person who saw up my dress, that I know of, was Dylan, and with him standing in front of the seated me I could easily see the bulge in the front of his jeans.
We bought 6 pairs of shoes, 3 of them with 4 inch heels and 2 of them with 5 inch heels. Dylan told me that they would make me walk like a model does and show-off my amazing legs. They were my first ever pairs of shoes with heels more than 2 inches high, my mother telling me that only whores wore higher heels. I told Dylan that I’d have to wear them around the house to get used to wearing them.
Our next stop was a shop that specialised in Club Wear, Party Wear and Bespoke clothing for the more adventurous young lady. Dylan told me that he’d noticed that shop soon after he’d asked me to marry him, thinking that he’d have to try to persuade me to go there with him, and that that was where he bought the bikini that he gave me on our honeymoon. Little did he realise at that time that once I knew about that shop I would become a regular customer.
As well as 3 very short skirts and 2 see-through tank tops, we also bought another couple of bikinis like the one that Dylan bought me for the honeymoon and a very short, white dress that he said I could wear for tennis or other ball games. When I say ‘very short, I mean so short that I could see the front of my slit and the bottom of my butt cheeks when I looked in a mirror.