When I first started buying lycra I was so scared I used to get everything through mail order, and using false (female) names. The first time I actually went in a dancewear shop and asked for a leotard, I was nervous as hell. It wasn't helped by getting the third degree from the woman running the shop: "Is this for - a lady - is it?" looking at me as if to say "You're not really going to wear this, are you?" Hell yes. Sometimes I would lie, inventing a wife or girlfriend for the occasion. Other times I would sheepishly tell the truth. Sometimes I would get asked: "Is this for a band or something?" Like it was alright to wear a leopard-print lycra leotard if you were prancing about on stage singing awful seventies numbers, but not if you just wanted something to wear under your clothes, in the pool, or around the house.

After a while I became a bit braver, and I actually relished the thought of buying lycra dancewear, and what's more trying it on in the shop. Yes, it is for me, and yes, I am going to wear it in your shop, before I take it home. And I don't care if you don't approve. This is how it happened.

It was a weekday. I had the day off and some spare cash, so I decided to go shopping. Of course, I intended to check out other shops, but my main aim was to come home with some new lycra gear.

I got out of bed, trying not to wake my flatmate Dave in the next room. You have to be careful, keeping a secret like that from someone in the same dwelling, but so far I had gotten away with it. I started dressing. I put on a pair of flesh colored sheer to waist pantyhose, and a sleeveless black lycra leotard. I put on a t-shirt, jeans, and boots over the top. No-one would know what I had underneath, but I knew, and it felt exciting. I left the flat, and walked the short way to the train station.

The train arrived, and I got on with about ten thousand suit and tie types. I noticed three rather nice girls sitting a short way in front of me. What caught my eye was that one of them was in slacks and a white cotton lycra bodysuit. It was so tight I could just about count the stitches in her bra. Her friend nearest the aisle was in a nice short skirt, sitting with her legs apart, and I could make out her white nickers through her tan pantyhose. She was so busy talking she did not notice me getting a good eyeful. I wondered for a moment what her reaction would be if I went up and said to her: "Hi, I see you are wearing sheer pantyhose, guess what? So am I. Look." Or ask her friend if she could take off her bodysuit for a minute, so I could try it on. They'd probably freak. It's something I find amazing, if her brother told her he was going to screw his boyfriend all night, she'd probably accept it. A straight guy in a leotard? That's too much.

The train arrived in Central, and all the suits headed for their desks for another day. I slowly made my way along High street, heading for the biggest dancewear shop in town. I soon arrived and I took a deep breath and went inside. It was fantastic, racks of lycra clothing as far as the eye could see. Tutus, ballet shoes, no thanks. Ah, here we are, leotards and tights. I am looking along this endless rack of leotards when a small and quite attractive girl surprises me. "Can I help you?" she offered. Feeling a bit embarrassed, I stumbled that I was just browsing, thanks. "That's ok" she replied.

I kept looking. What to buy? Something different, something really nice. That's nice, I thought. I had found a black scoop-neck long sleeve lycra unitard. I pulled it from the rack, and went to find the salesgirl. "Would you have one of these in a.. er.. 14?" "Sure". She took the unitard from me, placed it back on the rack, and just as quickly found an identical one, but in my size. Her next question hit me like a brick: "Would you like to try it on?"

Would I? Of course! I had never been asked that before, but I was glad she did. "Yeah, alright, I suppose." I replied, trying to hide my enthusiasm. She showed me into a cubicle and drew the curtain. I couldn't believe I was where I was, and doing what I was about to do. I kicked off my boots, and slipped out of my jeans and t-shirt. I stood there in my black leotard and sheer pantyhose, looking at myself in the mirror for a second. Let's do it, I thought. I took off the leotard, and hung it on a hook. I couldn't believe this, there I was, in a dancewear shop, just wearing pantyhose. My heart was pounding and my dick getting harder, as I had visions of the curtain falling off, leaving me in the middle of a shop with just pantyhose and a hard-on. I sat on the small stool, and slid my legs inside the black unitard. Carefully and as quick as I could I worked the legs up to my thighs. It slid on rather easily over the pantyhose. I stood up, and pulled the crotch of the unitard up against mine. Ok, halfway there. Next I pulled the torso up, and started to work one arm into a sleeve.

"How's that?" came the voice of the salesgirl from outside. "Uh, nearly there.. It's a bit tight." I replied, half expecting her to rip open the curtain. Finally I got my other arm in. These womens' sizes are typically fine in the butt and legs, but too tight in the arms and shoulders. Done. I looked in the mirror, seeing myself ankle to wrist in shiny black lycra. Fantastic.

"How are we going in there?" The salesgirl has come back. "It fits" I replied. "Let's see" she says. My heart was absolutely pounding. She wants to see me, what am I going to do? I mean, she knows I'm in here, she knows what I'm wearing, why the hell not? I cautiously open the curtain. "It's ok, no-one's here" she tells me. Looking nervously around, I step out of the booth. There I am, in public wiew, not that there was any public in the immediate vicinity, standing in front of some girl I did not know, and wearing a black lycra unitard. "That's great." she says, looking me up and down. By now I have well and truly barred up, but my pantyhose and the unitard hide it somewhat. I wonder if she's noticed the pantyhose, if she gave my toes more than a passing glance she must see. "I'll have it, it's fine." I say. I quickly step back into the cubicle, amazed that I wasn't seen by any of the other customers. Looking in the mirror again, I think again how great the unitard looks on me. I would love to wear it home, but I just haven't got the guts. I can't wear it under my clothes, as the sleeves would show under my t-shirt. I reluctantly peel it off, and put my black leotard back on, and the rest of my clothes. I take my new unitard to the girl at the counter, pay and leave.

As I walk out of the shop, I have a feeling of utter euphoria. Yes, I have done it. Not only tried on an item of female lycra dancewear, but actually worn it in front of a total stranger. On reflection, I think rather in front of a stranger than someone I know.

"Hey, Greg, how are you?". I turn around. It is someone I know, it's Kenny from work. He's got the day off too. "What are you up to?" "Just doing a bit of shopping." It's the truth, but I am certainly not going to tell him what I have been shopping for. We talk for a while, hoping like hell he won't ask what I have bought.

I continued on my way, poking around and buying a few other things. After a while I found myself in another dancewear shop. There is nowhere as many outfits on display as the last shop, but I am feeling a little more confident. The woman behind the counter gives me an inquiring look. "Ah... what have you got in long-sleeve lycra leotards?" I ask her. As if I had just asked for the morning paper, she opens a series of drawers behind her. She brings out a black long sleeve leotard, and tells me all about their styles and prices. It looks great. Trouble is I already have a black long sleeve leotard. "What other colors have you got?" She looks in the shelves again and returns with a whole range of colors, one of the first ones is a beautiful emerald green. That will do, although I would love a few more, I only have so much cash! Ready for a funny look, but buoyed up by my previous experience, I ask: "Can I try it on?" She doesn't flinch! "Sure, just over there." she replies, and shows me to the change rooms. You call this a change booth? The sides are six inches off the floor, and the curtains are just as bad. Another customer steps out of one. I quickly clutch my green leotard to my side, so she doesn't see what I have. She is wearing a pair of red lycra tights, and they are so tight they go right up her slit. She's still got panties on underneath. I quickly duck inside the miniscule change booth. I draw the curtain, and see that there is still a gap on the side. I adjust the curtain so there are smaller gaps on each side, but I still feel so exposed.

Meanwhile the customer is still in her red tights, talking to the saleswoman. She goes cross-country skiing, and this is her introduction to the pleasure of lycra, as she has never worn any before. Hell, I have been wearing the stuff for years. You've been missing out, babe.

I strip off again, down to my black sleeveless leotard and pantyhose. Off comes the leotard again. Just in my pantyhose, I step into the green long sleeved leotard. This is supposed to be the same size as the unitard I got from the other shop, but it's tighter. After a brief struggle, I have it on, and I check myself out in the mirror. Lucky I wore pantyhose today, but then again I had planned to. This leotard has some sort of gather in the front, not having tits I figure it is a bit redundant. I look inside it and decide that at least I can unstitch it when I get home, it will loosen up the leotard a bit. It occurs to me I had better not stand here all day, in case she thinks I am having too much fun in here. As I turn around, my eye catches the gap in the curtains. Through it I see the saleswoman. What's she been doing? Surely if I can see her, she can see me. I start to feel self-conscious again. How much has she seen? Maybe I should pull the curtain over - no that would be too obvious. I hear her footsteps moving away. Meanwhile Ms Red Tights is still there, my mischevious mind toys with the idea of leaping out of this booth and seeing her reaction seeing me in my green leotard and sheer pantyhose. No, better not.

I peel off the green leotard, and get dressed once more. I pay for my leotard and leave. I can't believe that woman, no reaction at all, as if butch guys come in every day and try on leotards. She's probably heard it all: I need this for my fancy dress party outfit; I go scuba diving and these are great to wear under wetsuits; It's a gift for my wife and we're both the same height and so if it fits me it will fit her but I don't like doing this at all, of course; etc, etc.

Back in the street once again, I reflect on what a fine day it's been so far. A black long sleeve unitard, and a green long sleeve leotard, both in shiny lycra.

By now I have nearly spent all my money, and the next shop I wander into is an op shop. Always love looking for bargains in these places. I find some LPs, $2 each - perfect condition. I pick them up and keep looking. On the racks of clothing something catches my eye. It is the sheen of blue lycra, it's the sleeve of a leotard. Picking it out of the rack, I see it is a skating dress, a long sleeve lycra leotard with a little skirt attached. It is only three dollars and in my size too. My god, I can't wear a skating dress, I think to myself. Then I remind myself that I am at that moment wearing a leotard and pantyhose, and have been all day. Yeah why not. I pay for the skating dress and leave.

By now I just can't wait to try it on. In the arcade there is a gents, it is clean and well lit, and it has a huge mirror over the wash basins. Best of all it has two doors, so I can hear if someone comes in. I step into a toilet cubicle. I strip off my outer clothes and leotard again, and step into the skating leotard. Perfect fit. I lift the skirt up in front, and look at the bulge in the lycra hiding the biggest hard-on I have had all day. I have got to see this in that mirror, I say to myself. Nothing. No sound. I slowly unlock and open the cubicle door and peer around the corner. The place is empty. I listen, I can hear the throbbing of my heart, but no footsteps or the outer door. I step out, and in front of the mirror. Slowly I turn around, and bend over slightly. The skirt rides up a little, showing the panty part. What a turn-on. I hear the outer door slam. In a second of utter panic, I dive back inside the toilet cubicle and shut the door, just as the inner door opens. That was close, I think. I remove the skating leotard, and get back into my black leotard again. I put on my outer clothes and walk out. I walked back to the station and got on a train for home. When I arrived back at the flat, Dave had gone to work, and I knew he wouldn't be back until after midnight. Suits me. I stripped naked, and laid out my purchases on my bed. I needed a shower, so I got back into the green long sleeved leotard. I knew it would go pretty see-through when it got wet. I ran the water and stepped into the shower. Unitards and catsuits are great but leotards have one advantage, you can get your dick out one leghole. As I stood in the shower, water running down my back, wet green lycra clinging to my body, I thought what a great day my shopping trip had been, and that I would have to do it all over again next payday.

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