The seamstress
By Montrose



It was a slow, cold Sunday afternoon. I was just walking down the block from
my favorite lunch spot when I looked into the window of the costume rental
store I had passed a hundred times before. But this time I caught a glimpse of
the seamstress who ran the place. She was just putting a new display in the
window. Her hair was honey blonde, long, but tied in a messy nest on top of
her head. She wore cut off bib overalls that had been tailored with soft
flannel to help them contain her substantial bosom. As she fluffed up the
southern belle gown in the window I saw ripples of lean muscle play along her
broad shoulders and long arms. She stood straight and looked out at me.

There was something at once shy and confident in her glance. At first I could
see that she was surprised to see me looking at her, but then she smiled and
waved. She made some final adjustments to the dress, looked once more at me,
self consciously and disappeared into the shop. I walked around to the door –
the sign said closed. Damn.

I turned to keep walking but heard a noise at the door. When I turned back the
sign said open and the door was cracked open just a bit. This was August, not
October. What the hell. It’s never too early to begin looking for the perfect
Halloween costume. I walked up the steps and into the shop.

The bell above the door announced my entry. The fair seamstress I had watched
through the window was now fussing with some paperwork behind the counter. She
had a pencil behind her ear and a tape measure around her neck. She looked up
and smiled again, much more openly this time. "Welcome." She said. "Feel free
to look around. Tell me if there is anything specific you would like to see."
And she went back to her paperwork – checking in returned items.

"Thank you." I said. I wouldn’t mind seeing more of that rack, I thought to
myself. She picked the pencil out from behind her ear and I noticed in the
curved arm a muscle twice the size of my own, even in its relaxed state. I
must have been caught gawking, for now she looked at me with a far more
knowing glint in her eye.

"Did you have anything special in mind?" she asked in a low measured tone –
not mad – just – I’m not sure what.

"Uhm..." Now she had me flustered. Finally, I looked away from her chest and
arms to look around the shop. It was an absolute jumble of small rooms filled
with big dresses, cloaks and coats. Each room seemed to have its own time
period. The glint of armor in the back caught my eye. "I’m thinking of going
medieval for Halloween..." I suggested.

She put down the pencil and stepped out from around the counter. "Let me show
you what I have." She said. The room was tight and she had to pass so close I
could smell her skin over the musty smell of old cloth. She stepped up toe to
toe, reached behind me and locked the door, flipping the sign back to closed.
All this time she kept her eyes fixed deep into mine. She stood an inch taller
than me (I’m 6 feet tall myself). I don’t mind saying, her size and magnetism
had me shaken. I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t speak.

She took me gently by the elbow in her firm hand and turned me down the hall.
As we walked her breast nudged into my arm, just brushing. The room had a
small selection of breast plates, chain linked armor, shields, swords, and
maybe a hundred dresses suitable for a princess waiting to be rescued. I stood
staring at her instead of the clothes – she didn’t seem to mind. She held up a
dress to herself for me to view – one of those numbers that would look great
on her – her chest was made for it. And she smiled again, enjoying my
hesitation I suppose.

When I realized I was beginning to pay too much attention to her chest I
jerked my head away. Again the shiny armor caught my eye. I fingered a random
one on the rack.

"Nice choice." She said. "Though you would need arms like mine to really fill
out the chains." And with this she lifted her left and in front of my face and
flexed it. Where once there had been a broad but womanly arm there now arose a
mass of lean muscle, puffing and bulging. I was easy to see why she liked the
sleeveless bib overalls. She would rip the shoulders and arms out of most
blouses.

Now I had no qualms about staring! I could help myself. "My dear god..." I
eventually whispered.

She chucked and raised her other arm. "I’ve got another just like it over
here." When she pumped them both up her shoulders bulged and her tits jumped.
The bibs were no longer a match for her breasts and could not contain them.
Her nipples, as hard and erect at her biceps jumped out over the top of the
bibs and taunted me. So well protected were they. They knew I couldn’t touch
them unless she wanted me to.

I must have become dizzy in the tight space. The next thing I knew she grabbed
me by the arms, pulled me out of the clothes rack I had drifted into, and
guided me to an armchair in the corner. I recovered quickly.

She stood over me with her hands on her round hips, smiling down at me like a
cat looking down at a mouse. Her nipples had retreated to their home in her
bibs. "Are you going to be all right?" she asked.

I nodded, sheepishly.

She picked the chainmail vest I had touched off the rack and held it up.
"Would you like to see me in this?" she asked.

I stared up at her in disbelief – how could anything this great be happening
to me!?! I saw her eyes wander down to the now substantial bulge in my pants.
My excitement was not just painful, but obvious as all hell.

Then she said something that woke me up. "I’ll get into this and let you look
for ... $40." I balked from shock, but then jumped for my wallet. She chuckled
as I accidentally dumped most of $200 at her feet in my hurry to pull out $20.

I bent down to pick it up, but her big foot came down, gently, on my hand and
the pile of money. She wore nothing but bright red toenail polish, and the
underside of her foot was as smooth as silk. "Leave it." She whispered.

I sat up and let another $30 or $50 fall out of my wallet. Then I dropped the
wallet. Fuck the money, I thought. She smiled and popped one bib clasp. The
top end rocketed over her should, free of the strain. "I’ll be right back."
She said.

In a wink she returned wearing the chain over a light blue tunic that barely
served as a mini skirt, slit up the sides to her armpits. Her arms and back
strained the metal to breaking. Her torso was like a caged beast ready to bend
its bars to break free and devour the world.

She pushed a foot forward between my legs and flexed. The tunic rose to expose
her glistening honey blonde mound as her legs took on the shape of a killer
cat, so perfect was the ripple of her flesh. Her arms once again curled up
high proving that they where more than enough to fill the chains.

I was drawn like magic to my knees before the seamstress. She pulled a sword
from a shelf and placed the blade on my shoulder as if to knight me. Then she
stepped closer. She slid the sword around behind my head and grabbed the end
of the dull blade. She stepped one foot up onto the arm of the chair I had
been in and she pulled my face into her groin using the blade behind my head.

She rubbed and I licked. My hands slid up her legs to her firm round ass and I
served her as if in worship. I gave my heart and soul to the act of pleasing
her as she towered over me in glistening metal and she rocked and moaned.

When she came it was sudden and profound. Her juice wet my hair and lips and
shirt. She stuffed my face into her muff, arched her back and howled.

In the end, panting, she dropped the sword, pushed me to the side and fell
into the chair.

I pressed my luck and began licking her again. This time I started at her red
tipped toes. She smiled and stuffed her feet in my face. By the time I got to
her thighs she had taken off the restricting armor and tunic. Suddenly she
grabbed for me.

She ripped my shirt open and tore it from my body. She lifted me to my feet
like I was a child. Then she gently, even respectfully, undid my pants and
slid them down to my ankles. I steadied myself on her thick shoulders as she
pulled my shoes and pants off. During this my throbbing cock slid about in her
flustered nest of hair.

She looked up and dragged her tongue up my shaft. I almost came at once. But
she knew to back off. She lay back in the chair and pulled me down into her
embrace.

I was completely trapped. Her thick legs surrounded my waist. Her arms pinned
mine to my sides in a bear hug and her tits enveloped my head. For a time she
just held me firm and enjoyed my struggles. My cock danced back and forth over
her clam as I attempted in vain to gain some air.

Finally she let me up a bit, just enough to breath. "Fuck me now." She
whispered.

She pushed me off and turned around offering me her ample rump. There was no
hesitation in me now. I shot my rod home up her muff and hammered. I held on
to her hips to keep from being bucked off.

"Spank me!" She shouted over my grunts. And she handed me a short sword.

I used the broad side of it to raise red marked on her ass as I humped. She
seemed delighted, almost knocking me off with her ecstatic writhing several
times.

I felt her come again after 20 minutes and I quickly followed in the hot wet
goo, shooting my load deep inside her.

Panting and slick with sweat, she flipped over again and forced my face back
into her crotch. "Clean me up." She commanded.

It stank like out mingled come, but it was either drink it up or suffer the
wrath from what I could see. So I did as commanded. She moaned and got her
breath back. I ventured to bring her to climax again, but she pulled me back.
"Not now." She whispered.

"Wallet." She said, once I had swallowed all of our come. I picked up my
wallet from the floor and handed it to her. She emptied the remaining bills
onto the floor at her feet. "I hope you don’t mind." She said. "This shop
doesn’t bring in much."

"Mind?" I gasped. "May I come back tomorrow with more cash?"

She smiled and stroked my chin, and then she broke my heart. "No."

She let me feel the pain for a while, and then she added. "But you can clean
yourself up and pick me up here tonight for dinner. Take me to someplace with
big portions of Italian food – red meat and red wine always get me in the
mood." And she winked down at me.

I picked up my clothes and thanks her as she lay naked, glistening, with her
toes playing thoughtlessly with the pile of dollars on the floor. I backed out
and nearly forgot to get dressed before leaving.

And now I am the seamstress’s minion. I make enough money to keep her shop
running. And she makes enough fantasy costumes to keep us wet and happy for
many a year to come.