Suit sample

I hated all the pre-wedding chores. My best friend had decided to throw a big ceremony, and as best man, I was forced to wear a tuxedo. Not just buy one, but have it custom-made at some fancy tailor. A nasty autumn rain was drizzling outside, and the prospect of hanging around for an hour or two while they took my measurements was depressing. The Velvet Atelier was located in the basement of an old mansion. Inside, it was dim, cozy, and cramped with endless rolls of fabric. I gave my name to the receptionist, and a minute later she came out to meet me. Her name was Elvira. She couldn't have been more than twenty-eight, but she carried herself with that calm, slightly haughty grace that comes from women who know their worth and their craft. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a high, sleek ponytail. A strict black pantsuit clung to her figure, emphasizing her slender waist and the sharp curves of her hips. Underneath the jacket, she wore an ivory silk blouse, and I could have sworn she was wearing nothing else—the two sharp peaks of her breasts were so provocatively visible through the thin silk. In her hands, she held a velvet pincushion and a measuring tape. "Let's go to the fitting room," she said in a low, enveloping voice, gesturing for him to follow her. "Take off your trousers, I'll start with the jacket." The fitting room turned out to be a separate room, separated from the main hall by a heavy curtain of dark burgundy velvet. The lighting was dim, and a huge full-length mirror reflected the two of us. I pulled off my sweater and stood there bare-chested. Elvira came close, and I caught the tart, intoxicating scent of her perfume with notes of sandalwood. She busily draped the jacket over my shoulders and began pinning the fabric at the shoulders. “Hands to the sides, please,” she commanded, and I obeyed. Her fingers slid over my shoulders and back. Her touches were quick, professional, but every time her knuckles brushed my skin, an electric shock ran through me. Then she dropped to one knee in front of me to test the length. Her face was level with my belt. I swallowed, feeling the betraying weight in my groin. She looked up at me with her huge, dark eyes, and in their depths I thought I saw a frank, appraising glint. "Okay, now let's take your pants measurements," she said, standing up and taking out a tape measure. "I need to measure your hips. And... your inseam. Don't strain yourself." She wrapped the tape around my hips, and I felt her small breasts press briefly against my side. My cock was now pressing against my fly, straining the fabric. Elvira wrote something down in her notebook and then knelt down again. This time, right in front of me. She placed the beginning of the tape on the inside of my ankle and slowly, agonizingly slowly, moved her hand up my leg, from calf to knee, from knee to thigh. Her fingers stopped dangerously close to my groin, almost touching the swollen bulge. "Oh," she said without a trace of embarrassment. "We seem to have a problem. The fabric might be lying incorrectly. It needs to be... removed somehow." She didn't remove her hand. Instead, she looked up at me and slowly, carnivorously licked her bottom lip. It was like an electric shock. I grabbed her ponytail, holding her down. "Then put it away," I croaked, no longer able to control myself. "You're a master. Show me your skills." Elvira didn't mince words. She set the measuring tape aside, deftly unzipped my pants, and released my tense, throbbing member. Her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around it like precious fabric. "God, what... rough material," she whispered in a low, throaty voice, not taking her eyes off him. "It needs delicate handling." And she took him into her mouth. Deeply, greedily, without a trace of her former prudishness. Her head bobbed back and forth, her tongue doing unimaginable things to the frenulum, and with her hand she massaged his scrotum. I stood, clutching the shoulders of my unfinished jacket with my free hand, looking in the mirror. The picture was surreal: me, half-naked, in the lining of a tuxedo, and this elegant woman on her knees, rapturously sucking me off. I felt the pressure building in my groin. “I’m going to finish now...” I exhaled, trying to push her head away. But she only gripped my hips tighter and worked her mouth with redoubled force. I couldn't resist and, with a low growl, ejaculated into her mouth. She swallowed, continuing to suck and caress the head with her tongue, taking in every drop. Then, breathing heavily, she pulled away and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. The fire in her eyes wasn't extinguished, but rather inflamed. "The fitting isn't over," she whispered, rising from her knees and beginning to unbutton the jacket of her formal suit. "Now it's my turn to show you... the material." She took off her jacket, then her blouse. Her breasts were flawless, with large, dark nipples that had already hardened and stood out like two tight cherries. She pushed me onto the burgundy ottoman and, quickly removing her pants and the tiny triangle of panties, straddled me. Her crotch was hot and wet. She moaned, impaling herself on my newly erect member. “Yes, my sweetie... just like that... deeper...” she moaned, moving in a frantic rhythm. “Fuck me! Fuck your dressmaker! Fuck me right in this damn fitting room!” I grabbed her by the hips and began thrusting into her with such force that the ottoman began to shake. The mirror reflected our intertwined, sweat-slicked bodies. She scratched my back, screaming at the top of her lungs, completely forgetting about propriety. Suddenly, the heavy curtain trembled, and another girl slipped into the fitting room without even knocking. About twenty-three years old, red-haired, with mischievous freckles on her nose, and wearing the same black suit, only with a skirt. She froze when she saw us. She was apparently an assistant or an intern. “Elvira Markovna... I... there’s a client waiting...” she stammered, but her eyes were glued to the way I was fucking her boss. Elvira, without even thinking about stopping, turned her head towards the redhead. "Sonya, close the curtain... and shut your mouth," she exhaled between thrusts. "Come here. The client will wait. The cutting is hot here. Help." Sonya, as if hypnotized, pulled the curtain closed. Elvira climbed off me and, approaching the girl, pulled her toward her, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. At the same time, she slipped her hand under her skirt. Sonya gasped softly, but didn't resist. "Look at the fabric... the fine workmanship..." Elvira whispered, lifting her blouse and kissing her small breasts with their pale pink nipples. "Now, go serve the customer. Show him your mouth. You're not a girl anymore, are you?" Sonya, licking her lips, came up to me. I was sprawled on the ottoman, my cock standing on end, wet with Elvira's juices. The redhead knelt down and, looking me straight in the eye with her green orbs, began licking the head like a lollipop. "Deeper, bitch," Elvira growled, coming up behind her. "I'll... shape her too." She lifted Sonya's tight skirt, revealing full thighs and lace panties, and ripped them off in one motion. Then, from somewhere in the hardware drawer, she pulled out a long, smooth handle from some sewing tool. Smiling lecherously, Elvira moistened it with saliva and guided it between Sonya's buttocks. — Now we're going to pierce you right through, baby. Both front and back. Sonya squealed, not from pain, but from pleasure, when I drove my cock into her mouth all the way to her throat, and Elvira simultaneously inserted the improvised dildo into her anus. "That's it, be patient," Elvira said, moving her hand, "it's like a basting stitch. It's tight at first, then it'll come apart." We fucked her in both holes, synchronously and mercilessly. Sonya moaned and writhed between us, tears of pleasure and saliva streaming down her cheeks. "I'm cumming!" I roared, feeling like I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled my cock out of Sonya's mouth and began jerking off. Elvira stopped what she was doing, and they both turned their beautiful faces toward me. One stream hit Sonya's freckles, another landed on Elvira's cheekbone and on her chin. I spilled every last drop on them, and they, exhausted, began greedily licking each other's cum off their faces like two kittens. We lay silently on a pile of fabrics and scraps, catching our breath. “What a fitting...” I finally croaked. Elvira laughed, adjusting her disheveled ponytail. She took a wet wipe, wiped her face, and handed the pack to Sonya. "Okay, get yourself together," she commanded, becoming her stern boss again. "Sonya, give me a spare blouse. And bring me a jacket from the new collection. The client seems to need a larger size. In the shoulders." She looked at me and winked, adding: "A wedding is a wedding, but a tuxedo has to fit perfectly. So I'm expecting you tomorrow for a second fitting. And Sonya too... for the more complex work." She took a business card and a gold tie pin from the dressing table, nested them, and slipped them into my trouser pocket. I got dressed, feeling completely exhausted, but incredibly happy. The rain outside had stopped, and even the upcoming wedding didn't seem so dreary anymore. This studio definitely knew how to work with clients. Personalized service, top-notch.