Ananya(Student) - How I gave my measurements to the tailor(11 videos)-Scene-28-GOLD!*

[ashuezy2]

Scene 9

He sucked softly at first. It wasn't rough. It was a gentle pull, like he was having a Chuski. Schhh-lup.

A wave of shyness hit me. This was too much. I was standing half-naked, letting a stranger drink from me.

I put my hands on his shoulders.

"No," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Remo... stop."

I pushed him away. Not hard, but enough to break the seal. Pop.

He stumbled back a step. He looked at me. He didn't look angry that I pushed him.
He looked like a predator enjoying the chase.

"Why shy, Madam? You are so sweet."

He didn't listen. He came back again. This time, he didn't suck. He used his tongue.
He leaned in and dragged his broad, rough tongue right across the sensitive tip of my nipple.

Lick.

I gasped. A jolt of electricity shot straight from my chest to my stomach.

"Please," I moaned, but I didn't push him this time.

He licked again, swirling his tongue around the large, nipple.

"I want it all," Remo murmured against my wet skin. "I want to make them hard as possible."

And they were. My nipples were getting harder and harder, standing up, begging for his mouth. I couldn't control myself.
I grabbed his hair, not to push him away, but to hold on as the pleasure took over. 

I opened my mouth to beg him to suck harder.
Then, a voice cut through the wood like a knife.

"Remo!"

It was Masterji. He was shouting from the cutting table, loud and impatient.

"Remo! Customer is waiting! Come here fast!"

We froze. Remo pulled back instantly, leaving a wet trail of saliva on my breast. He looked at the door, annoyed.
I stood there, panting, my chest heaving, my nipples wet and cold in the sudden air. I felt a crash of terror—what if Masterji opened the door? What if he saw us? But underneath the fear, there was a terrible, aching frustration. I didn't want him to stop.

My mind snapped back. The heat vanished, replaced by the cold air of the AC. I looked down.

The peach blouse—the reason for all this madness—was lying on the dirty floor in the dust.

"Stupid," I whispered to myself.

I bent down and picked it up. I brushed the dust off the silk. I felt dirty, but I had to know. I had to know if the "mould" was real or just a trick to touch me.

I pulled the blouse on. I fastened the hooks.
It fit perfectly.

It held my heavy "30H" chest firmly. It didn't pinch. It didn't slip. It gave me the shape I had always wanted. Remo was a genius. And he was a pervert.

===

I took it off quickly. I grabbed my old, safe bra. Snap. I put on my t-shirt. Then, the hoodie. I zipped it all the way up to my chin, hiding the wetness on my skin, hiding the perfect body he had just worshipped.
I unlocked the door. My legs felt like jelly. I walked out.

Masterji was busy cutting fabric. He didn't look up.
I walked towards the exit, clutching the bag with my new blouse. My face was burning.

Then, I saw him.

Remo was standing near the counter. He wasn't looking for me. He was already busy. There was another woman standing there—a lady in a blue kurta. She was laughing at something he said. He was leaning in close to her, using that same low, charming voice.

I stopped for a second.

Remo looked up. He saw me standing at the door, wrapped in my hoodie like a frightened child.
He didn't look guilty. He grinned. He looked at the woman next to him, then back at me.

He winked.

It was a slow, deliberate wink. It said: I know what you look like underneath. And I know you liked it.

I ran out. I took an auto-rickshaw home. I didn't speak to my mother. I went straight to my room and locked the door.
I lay in my bed in the dark. The ceiling fan spun above me. Whirrr-whirrr.
I tried to sleep, but my body wouldn't let me. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in that wooden box.

I should be angry. I should tell someone. He touched me. He put his mouth on me.

But I wasn't angry. I shifted in the bed. My nipples were still hard, rubbing against the cotton of my t-shirt. They hurt. They missed the wet warmth of his tongue.

He said they were beautiful. He said I taste electric.

I touched my own chest in the dark. My hand felt cold compared to his. I remembered the sound—slurp—and the way his rough tongue dragged over my sensitive skin. I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to be the invisible girl anymore. I wanted to go back to the shop. I wanted to know what would have happened if Masterji hadn't called him.

I fell asleep with my hand clutching my own breast, dreaming of the tailor who stole my shape.