Silkie’s second story – The Fitting
The events in this story happened several years after the first, in fact I had, more or less, forgotten about the time in the swimming pool, at this point. I had much more important things to think about, or so I thought, I was getting married!
It was wasn’t going to be a stuffy formal wedding, so I did not want a dress that was the conventional long fairytale confection, worn once and never seen again, except in photographs. Rather I wanted something I could wear again, when properly accessorised, something long, fitted, with a low back and more than a little cleavage, a full skirt, sleeveless. Having chosen the pattern, I looked around for suitably special material, eventually finding a translucent. silky, white satin, with a pattern of self coloured stars. I had planned to make the dress myself, but the material was so delicate (and so costly) that I decided it needed a professional dressmaker. The night after I had ordered the material, I went out from drinks with the ‘girls’, taking a sample of the material with me. When I showed it to Laura, she giggled in an odd way, then said ‘You simply must get Mrs V’ to make it for you, no one else will give you quite the same satisfaction.
When I contacted Mrs V by phone, she seemed a little put-out, the only thing she seemed to want to know was whether anyone had recommended her. Once I explained about Laura, however, she was full of enthusiasm. I went, with Laura, to show her the pattern and material, ‘No problem, no problem’, she said, ‘Nice material, nice pattern, lovely woman’ and screeched with laughter, looking oddly at Laura. ‘Now we take measurements, many measurements. Clothes off please’. So I stripped down to bra and panties and stood to be measured. A curvy five foot six inches, I am not a small woman, which might explain why Mrs V seemed to need to make so many measurements in so many places of my body, most of them quite personal and why the tape measure seemed to slip so often, either that or she was nervous, and I couldn’t see why she should be.
I told Mrs V that I didn’t want to wear a separate bra, with the dress, so that there was no risk of straps showing but I wasn’t sure about doing that with my 40DD boobs, would the dress contain them adequately? Mrs V just laughed, ‘I put plenty support for those nice boobies in dress, don’t you worry. Those pretty puppies not escape by accident from dress I make’. With that, I had to be satisfied, for a while. The first fitting showed me almost nothing, the dress was inside out, with a temporary lining to protect the fabric. It would be the second fitting, where I would get to see just how well the dress fitted and what it looked like.
I was so nervous about the fitting, Laura and I ended up going for a drink, well two drinks, before we went into Mrs V’s. She worked in a crowded set of three rooms. She sat in the main work area, surrounded by sewing machinery, mannequins and half completed dresses, off this was a waiting area, with seats and a little built-in kitchenette, at the back was a changing room. I was told to go into the changing room, take off all my clothes except for the knickers I was planning to wear with the dress (actually not the pair, but identical ones) and shoes the same height as my wedding shoes. Two minutes after I had taken my clothes off, in came Mrs V, dress over her arms. I was standing with my back to her, not that this made much difference about what she could see, as there were mirrors on three sides of the room. She made no pretence of not looking at all, instead she ran her eyes appraisingly over my body, ‘Nice looking woman’, she muttered to herself as she eyed my curves, sending a shiver and a blush coursing over me. Out loud she commanded, ‘Arms over head please’ As I complied, she climbed on a stool, so she was now looking down on my almost naked form muttering again, what sounded like, ‘Lucky husband better appreciate nice booblies’, then she slowly lowered the dress over my head. ‘Walk main shop now’, she commanded.
In the main shop, I was stood in front of another mirror, with Mrs V standing behind me. Laura came in to have a quick look at this point, ooohhhing and aaahhhing over the fabric and the way the shape emphasised all my best points.
Then Mrs V wanted to check the detailed fit and shooed Laura away. Using gloved fingers, she carefully did up each of the thirty six tiny buttons, which closed the front of the dress, from belly button to a couple of inches above my nipple line, straight up the front, this, of course, meant a good deal of touching on the sides of my poor boobs, causing my nipples to begin to stand erect. ‘Not want get hot in dress’, she said firmly and turned on a powerful fan and directed straight at my front.
That did it, of course. Perhaps I should explain. My boobs are large & soft, but shapely. My nipples are small & pink when soft but become very large and hard when I am excited. The feel of the breeze, created by the fan, was definitely beginning to make them excited. I was not really aware of just how visible they were, through the dress, but Mrs V , standing behind me, staring at my reflection could hardly miss them, standing out at just below her eye level. ‘My’, she said, ‘we will need to put some more material in the bodice, you wouldn’t want your buttons to show on the day’. ‘I thought the buttons were covered’, I asked back. Mrs V just gave a rather dirty laugh, saying ‘No silly girl, these buttons’. As she did, she put her gloved hands on the bodice, rubbing fingers over my engorged and now rampant nipples. ‘See?’, she said, pinching slightly, then sliding her fingers down to the base of my breasts. See? A blind woman couldn’t have missed them. The half inch buds and translucent aureoles stood out even more starkly through the translucent material, than they did when I was naked. The sight of another woman's hard nipples, through her clothes, always turns me on. That day, the sight of my own was just the same, my growing excitement making them grow even more. If the sight my nipples was exciting me, I suppose I couldn’t really be surprised that it seemed to have the same affect on Mrs V.
‘See?’, Mrs V said again, reaching up and giving my nipples another, firmer rub, followed by a series of little squeezes, that left me groaning with pleasure. Perhaps I am unusual but I can orgasm from having my nipples rubbed, flicked or sucked and I was so close to coming at that point. Mrs V was standing really close to my back now, muttering in my ear, ‘She likes, always give customer what she likes’, as she continued to rub her hands over my nipples, while she carefully undid all the little buttons. Undone, the top of the dress fell forwards, Mrs V removing her hands just long enough to allow this, before she placed her palms under my breasts, fingers manipulating my nipples and began to tweak them again. ‘Relax’, she muttered into my ear, ‘girl should just relax, let Mrs V work her magic with her fingers’. In reality, I am not certain I could have moved, if I had wanted too, all I was aware of was the feeling of her fingers pleasuring my nips, the increasing tension in my core. I was aware of Laura, in the room next door, could hear her magazine pages turn, knew she might walk in and see this lewd performance at any moment, an awareness that just increased my excitement. It took only a minute or two of Mrs V’s increasingly firm play to bring me to the point, then take me all the way over, heat rushing through me, my whole self now concentrated in the feelings in my p*ssy and cl*t and the sensations in my nipples that were the cause of them, as I continued to cum and cum, the feelings cresting in little peaks of pleasure, then subsiding just a little, before building again.
Mrs V’s fingers did not stop their manipulation, instead they began to pinch and knead, so that the sensations in my p*ssy, became stronger and stronger. All I was aware of seeing now, was the image of her hands working my nipples, my hearing was filled by the sound of my own laboured breath, all I could feel was Mrs V’s bony form pressed into my back, her arms around me, her hands causing the most intense sensations in my breasts and through them, my ongoing orgasm, pulsing through me, hot and wet, on and on. Nothing else entered my awareness, as the sensations went on and on and on. I would have stayed there, cumming for her for as long as she was prepared to keep me there. When she finally released my breasts, I wanted to scream at her to keep doing it, but then I heard the sounds of Laura coming into the room – hell. My legs were trembling, shudders were passing through my whole body, as I came down from one of the most intense orgasms of my life, just from this ugly little woman’s fingers! ‘Now get dress off carefully’, Mrs V said, out loud, as though nothing had been happening, ‘make adjustments for buttons, Silkie come back in three days’. Silkie would come back in three days, for sure, the wedding was only two weeks away and I had to have the dress. I tried to think of my husband to be touching me like that, making me his willing victim, tried to pretend that what I had felt was just a moments aberration but I know that there was no way, he would ever make me cum as hard as Mrs V had, like that. Silkie would come back to see Mrs V, but no way, no way was she going to risk being alone with Mrs V again – was she?
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