22-09-2025, 09:15 PM
Madhuri’s hands trembled as she hesitantly lifted her churidar top, revealing the tight leggings clinging to her curves.
Finally, the designer stepped back, his voice polite. “Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am. You can relax now.”
The designer, his tone clinical yet probing, instructed, “Please put your feet apart slightly, ma’am.”
As she did that, he glanced at Ishaan, “Measure from her inner thigh, near the crotch, to the hip joint.”
Both men knelt before her, Ishaan’s eyes glinting as he positioned the tape, the designer observing closely. Madhuri’s breath hitched, unsure of the situation, her mind racing.
Ishaan began, his fingers brushing from her ass down to her inner thigh, grazing her sensitive skin. A jolt of pleasure shot through her, memories of that blindfolded night with Ishaan flooding back. She tried to steady herself, but his lingering touch made her knees quiver.
He took multiple attempts, each one brushing her most sensitive spots, igniting a warmth that left a small wet patch on her leggings. Her heart pounded, praying they wouldn’t notice.
The designer’s eyes flicked to the damp spot but said nothing, his voice calm.
“Now, measure along the bottom, start at the creak of her buttocks, down through to the navel.”
Madhuri’s eyes widened. “What? That’s… such a strange way to measure,” she stammered, her voice shaky.
“It's a crucial step for our precision,” the designer assured smoothly, his tone almost too polished.
Ishaan held one end of the tape at the top of her butt crack, passing the other end under her crotch to the designer, who then placed it against her bare navel.
Both of them touching wherever they want sent a shock through her, her body trembling with illicit excitement. She gripped her churidar top tightly to keep it from falling, her breath uneven.
They pulled the tape slowly from both ends, grazing her crotch, over the leggings, their movements deliberate under the guise of calibration. The friction against her honeypot made her knees buckle inward, a soft moan escaping her lips as the dampness grew, her leggings betraying her arousal.
Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the AC, her expression shifting to one of barely contained desire. “Mmmh..” she let out a soft moan, eyes closed as they lingered, teasing her with subtle rubs, watching her squirm awkwardly from below.
Finally, the designer stepped back, his voice polite. “Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am. You can relax now.”
Madhuri came back to this world and opened her eyes. The tape was visibly damp from her juice, but he said nothing, noting the measurements.
Ishaan, with a smirk, detailed the customizations he wanted, and the designer nodded modestly, agreeing.
They exited the boutique, finding Abhi outside, his face a storm of anger and anticipation. “Mom, why’d you leave me out here?!” he demanded, gripping the bags tightly.
Madhuri, still flushed, forced a smile. “Sorry, sweetie, women’s shopping takes time. Didn't want to bore you.” Her voice wavered, deflecting his frustration.
Without another word, they headed home, the air between them heavy with unspoken tensions and front mirror communications. Madhuri’s mind still reeling from the charged encounter, Abhi’s anger simmering, and Ishaan’s knowing glance lingering in the silence.