Sommelier's Tailor Shop Tongue Fitting

Sommelier's Tailor Shop Tongue Fitting

The late-afternoon light slanted through the tall front windows of Mara’s boutique, turning the polished hardwood floor into a warm amber mirror. Elena Voss pushed open the heavy glass door with her hip, the silk evening gown draped over one arm like a battle standard. At thirty-two, the sommelier carried herself with the same precise confidence she used when decanting a ’98 Bordeaux. Her dark hair was twisted into a sleek chignon, and her tailored trench coat hid the fact that she wore only a lace bra and thong beneath it. The gown needed emergency alterations before tonight’s blind tasting for three Master Sommeliers and two influential importers. There was no time for modesty.

Mara Vale looked up from behind the wide cutting table. Twenty-nine, openly and unapologetically lesbian, she had a reputation among the city’s stylish queer women for both flawless tailoring and an even more flawless tongue. Her dark copper hair was pulled into a messy knot, a few rebellious strands clinging to the nape of her neck. The sleeves of her black linen shirt were rolled high, revealing lean forearms corded with the kind of muscle that came from years of pinning, lifting, and occasionally pinning women against walls. When she saw Elena, her full mouth curved into a slow, knowing smile.

“Elena. You’re cutting it dangerously close.”

“I like dangerous,” Elena answered, voice low and smoky from years of tasting tannic reds. She let the coat slide off her shoulders and pool on a velvet chair, revealing the deep indigo gown and the way her breasts pressed against the silk. “Think you can make it fit in an hour?”

Mara’s gaze traveled openly down the length of her. “I can make anything fit if I’m motivated.”

The air between them thickened instantly. Elena stepped onto the low fitting platform in the center of the shop. Mara followed, measuring tape dangling from her fingers like a promise. She began at the shoulders, fingers brushing Elena’s collarbones, then slid the tape across her back. Each touch lingered a fraction longer than strictly necessary. When Mara moved to the front, the back of her hand grazed the swell of Elena’s breast. Both women inhaled sharply.

“You’re not wearing much under this,” Mara observed, voice husky.

“Seemed pointless. The gown is bias-cut. Any panty line would ruin it.” Elena’s nipples had already tightened into visible peaks beneath the silk. “Besides… I wanted you to have easy access.”

Mara’s eyes flicked up, pupils blown wide. “Careful, sommelier. I’m trying to remain professional.”

“Professional is overrated.” Elena’s lips parted. “Your hands have been on my hips for thirty seconds and I’m already soaked. That’s not a measurement, that’s chemistry.”

Mara’s breath hitched. She dropped slowly to her knees in front of Elena, ostensibly to pin the hem. The silk whispered against her palms as she smoothed it down Elena’s thighs. When she reached mid-thigh, she paused. Her face was now level with the apex of Elena’s legs. Hot breath ghosted over the thin silk covering Elena’s mound. Elena’s thighs trembled and parted an inch, the movement unconscious, instinctive.

“Fuck,” Elena whispered, staring down at the beautiful woman on her knees. “I’ve wanted that skilled mouth on me since the first time I saw you hem a pair of trousers. Do it, Mara. Taste me.”

Mara looked up. Her cheeks were flushed, lips already glistening. “I’ve been wet since you walked in. The second my fingers touched your hips I felt my clit throb. I’ve been trying not to shove my face between your legs for the last ten minutes.”

Their eyes locked—raw, consensual, electric.

Elena reached down, threaded her fingers through Mara’s copper hair, and pulled the tailor’s face firmly against her silk-covered cunt.

Mara groaned at the contact. Her hands shot up, yanking the gown’s hem to Elena’s waist in one rough motion. She hooked two fingers into the soaked scrap of Elena’s thong and dragged it aside, exposing slick, swollen folds. The scent of aroused woman—musky, sweet, heady—filled Mara’s senses. She dove in.

Her tongue was long, broad, and merciless. She licked Elena from entrance to clit in one slow, aggressive stroke, then again, and again, lapping up the thick arousal that immediately coated her chin. Elena’s knees buckled; she gripped the edge of the tall three-way mirror for balance.

“Oh my god—yes, just like that,” Elena gasped. Her free hand tightened in Mara’s hair, grinding her pussy against the tailor’s eager mouth.

Mara sealed her lips around Elena’s swollen clit and sucked hard while two fingers plunged deep into her dripping cunt. She curled them instantly, finding the ridged spot that made Elena’s thighs shake violently. The wet, obscene sounds of fingering and licking echoed through the quiet boutique. Elena’s hips rolled in tight circles, riding Mara’s face with shameless need.

“Harder. Fuck me with that tongue,” she demanded, voice breaking.

Mara obliged. She withdrew her fingers only to replace them with her stiffened tongue, spearing deep into Elena’s pulsing channel while her nose ground against Elena’s clit. Elena’s juices ran down Mara’s chin and dripped onto the hardwood.

Without warning, Elena spun around, braced her hands on the fitting platform, and arched her back, presenting her ass and dripping pussy. “From behind. Now.”

Mara didn’t hesitate. She spread Elena’s cheeks with both hands and buried her face between them, tongue-fucking her with long, thrusting strokes. One hand snaked between her own thighs; she shoved her own soaked panties aside and rubbed her swollen clit in frantic circles, moaning into Elena’s cunt. The vibration made Elena cry out.

They stayed like that for long, filthy minutes—Elena bent over, ass high, Mara on her knees devouring her while furiously masturbating—until the need to taste each other completely overwhelmed them.

“Floor,” Elena panted. “Now. I want your pussy on my mouth.”

They tumbled down together in a tangle of limbs and silk. Mara kicked off her trousers and underwear in one frantic movement, revealing a glistening, neatly trimmed cunt already dripping down her inner thighs. Elena lay back and pulled Mara on top of her in a perfect sixty-nine.

Mara lowered her soaked pussy onto Elena’s waiting mouth at the same moment she dove back between Elena’s spread thighs. The mutual moan that vibrated through both women was loud enough to rattle the display racks.

Elena licked broad stripes up Mara’s slit, savoring the tart, silky taste of her, then sucked her clit between her lips with the same expertise she used judging acidity in wine. Mara bucked and ground down harder, smearing her juices across Elena’s cheeks and chin. At the same time, Mara’s tongue returned to Elena’s cunt with renewed ferocity, lashing her clit while three fingers now stretched and fucked her relentlessly.

Their bodies moved in a slick, rhythmic grind—hips rolling, tongues thrusting, fingers plunging. Breasts pressed against bellies, nipples dragging against sweat-slick skin. The wet sounds of mouths devouring soaked pussies filled the boutique, punctuated by muffled cries and desperate gasps.

Elena felt her orgasm barreling toward her like a freight train. She clamped her thighs around Mara’s head and sucked hard on her clit, flicking it rapidly with the tip of her tongue. Mara answered by curling her fingers harder and grinding her own dripping cunt against Elena’s face in short, frantic strokes.

They came together in a shattering, loud explosion.

Elena’s scream was muffled by Mara’s pussy as her walls clamped down around Mara’s thrusting fingers, gushing hot nectar across the tailor’s tongue. Mara followed a heartbeat later, thighs quaking violently as she rode Elena’s face through wave after wave of blinding pleasure, her own cries vibrating deep into Elena’s spasming cunt.

For long moments the only sounds were ragged breathing and the soft, wet noises of tongues lazily cleaning each other through the aftershocks.

Finally Mara sat up, still straddling Elena’s chest. Her face was shiny with Elena’s cum from nose to chin. She licked her lips slowly, deliberately, eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction.

“The gown now fits perfectly,” she declared in a rasping, sex-drunk voice.

Elena burst into breathless laughter beneath her, the sound giddy and incredulous. She grabbed Mara by the back of the neck, yanked her down into a deep, messy kiss, and tasted her own tangy arousal all over the tailor’s tongue. When they finally broke apart, Elena was still grinning.

“Tomorrow night. Private final fitting. Bring the seam ripper. I have a feeling we’re going to need to let this dress out again.”

Mara smirked, wiping her glistening chin with the back of her wrist.

“Bring the Riesling. I’m going to be thirsty.”