Misc. Erotica The Goddess (COMPLETED) - By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

“The bra also needs to come off now, madam,” he said, still calm and professional.

“For the final precision — especially the cup shape and the exact support — I need the bare measurements. That is the last step for a perfect blouse.”
I immediately shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest.
“No,” I said.
“That is too much. You already measured over the bra. It is enough.”
He did not step back or raise his voice.
“I understand, madam,” he replied evenly.
“But the bra changes the true shape. The cups lift and separate the breasts. If I stitch only from the measurements over the bra, the final blouse will not sit correctly when you wear a different bra or when the cloth settles. Taking the bare measurement gives me the exact size and the natural fall. It is the standard method for a well-fitted blouse. It will take less than two minutes.”
“No,” I said again, my voice tighter.
“I am not comfortable removing it.”
“The curtain is closed. No one can see,” he continued in the same patient, professional tone.
“I am only measuring. Once I have the numbers I will give you the bra back immediately. If the blouse is not accurate you will have to return for alterations. This way it will be right the first time. You have already allowed the blouse to come off for the same reason. This is only the final step.”
His words were calm and logical. Everything he said was correct. The nervousness in my chest remained sharp, yet the practical part of me knew he was right. At the same time the heat between my legs had grown stronger from the earlier touches and from standing in front of him in only the white bra and white petticoat.
After a long, heavy pause I slowly lowered my arms.
“…Only for the measurement,” I said.
“And quickly.”
He stepped closer. His fingers went to the back of the white bra. He unhooked it with practised ease. The white bra loosened. He slid the bra straps down my arms and drew the white bra away from my body, placing it on the chair with the yellow blouse and yellow saree.
Cool air touched my bare breasts at once. My heavy breasts settled naturally without the support of the white bra. My nipples, already tight, stood out clearly.
I felt completely exposed inside the small curtained room. The nervousness rose high in my throat. At the same time a strong, shameless pulse of heat moved through my lower stomach and between my legs. My pussy throbbed once against the maroon panties and fresh wetness spread across the front panel.
He kept his expression professional. He picked up the measuring tape again.
“Stand straight, madam. Arms relaxed.”
He measured my shoulders once more. Then he brought the tape around my bare chest, positioning it over the fullest part of my breasts. Both of his hands held the tape in place. His palms and fingers pressed directly against the soft, heavy weight of my bare breasts as he adjusted the number. The open contact of his hands on my naked breasts sent a sharp wave of heat straight downward. My nipples hardened further under his palms. A deep, restless throb settled between my legs. The maroon panties were now clearly damp.
“Breathe normally,” he said quietly.
“I need the exact bare measurement.”
I tried to keep my breathing even, but each rise of my chest pressed my breasts more fully into his hands. The nervousness and the rising arousal moved together inside me. I fixed my eyes on the wall and waited.
He noted the number, then measured under the bust, his fingers tracing the soft skin beneath my breasts. After that he measured the distance from the top of my shoulder to the underbust and the exact length needed for the blouse style. Each time his hands touched my bare breasts or the sides of my waist, another wave of heat rolled through me and the wetness in my maroon panties increased.
I stood still in the small curtained room, completely bare from the waist up, heart beating hard, my heavy breasts rising and falling with every unsteady breath, the heat between my legs growing heavier and more insistent while he calmly recorded the final numbers.


He finished writing the last number and looked at my bare breasts for a moment longer than the previous measurements required.
“There is one final check for the cup shape, madam,” he said, still in that same calm, professional voice.
“For a perfect, natural fall and exact support, I need to confirm the softness and the exact weight. The measuring tape alone cannot give that. This is the last step.”
I immediately crossed my arms over my bare breasts, feeling both shy and exposed inside the small curtained room.
“No,” I said, my voice quiet but firm.
“That is enough. You have all the numbers. Give me the bra back.”
He did not step away. With the same patient, professional explanations he had used earlier, he slowly convinced me that the final check was necessary for a perfect fit. After a long, tense silence I lowered my arms.
He placed both hands under my heavy breasts, lifting them fully, then lowered his head and took my left nipple into his mouth.
A shocked, shy breath left my throat. His tongue moved slowly and thoroughly over the tight nipple while his lips closed and applied soft, repeated suction. The sensation was so direct that my hands rose on their own. My fingers slid into his hair and held his head gently but firmly against my breast, an instinctive reaction I could not stop.
“Very soft… and full,” he murmured against my breast while still sucking, the words warm and appreciative.
“Perfect weight. The shape is beautiful.”
My fingers tightened in his hair. The compliment spoken while his mouth was on my nipple made a strong wave of heat flood downward. My pussy throbbed hard against the wet maroon panties. Fresh wetness spilled across the front panel. My knees felt weak.
He released my left nipple only long enough to speak again, then took it back into his mouth and continued tasting it with deeper, slower movements.
“The texture of the nipple is also very good,” he said between soft sucks, still letting me hold his head.
“This helps me decide the exact cup shape.”
I bit my lower lip, shyness burning on my face, yet my body kept responding without control. The weakness in my legs grew.
He moved to my right breast. My hands stayed in his hair, holding his head as he closed his mouth over my right nipple and began the same thorough tasting.
“Same softness on this side,” he murmured while sucking, his voice still professional yet filled with open appreciation.
“Beautiful… full and heavy. Both breasts are perfectly matched.”
“You are not supposed to say those things,” I whispered, my voice unsteady, fingers still buried in his hair as his tongue circled my nipple.
“It is only measurement.”
He released my nipple just enough to answer, still holding my breast, still allowing my hands to keep his head close.
“I say what is necessary for accuracy, madam,” he replied calmly.
“I do this with all my customers who want a perfect fit. The softness, the weight, the response — everything must be noted. But…” He took my nipple back into his mouth for another slow, deliberate suck before continuing, “your taste is better. Cleaner… softer. It makes the assessment clearer.”
The comparison sent a sharp, shameless pulse of heat straight between my legs. My pussy clenched and more wetness soaked the maroon panties. My knees weakened further. Soft, broken breaths escaped me while I continued holding his head against my breast, unable to let go, as he kept tasting and quietly complimenting the softness and shape of my breasts between each thorough movement of his mouth.
By the time he finally finished, my bare breasts were wet and glistening at the nipples, my chest was rising and falling rapidly, my fingers were still lightly tangled in his hair, and the heat between my legs had become a full, heavy ache that left me unsteady on my feet and deeply, unwillingly aroused.
He lifted his head at last, still holding my bare breasts in his hands, and spoke in the same even, professional tone.
“Yes. The softness, weight and response are completely clear now. I have everything I need for the perfect cup shape.”
I stood trembling in the small curtained room, bare breasts wet and sensitive from his mouth, the maroon panties soaked against my throbbing pussy, shyness still burning on my face while the deep, unfinished heat continued to pulse heavily between my legs.