The Suit Tailor

As I attend many trade shows and travel frequently, I have to wear suits and get them adjusted from time to time and new suits fitted. I've been to many different suit tailors over the years but one experience, because it led to sex, I shall never forget.

I was in Vanvouver, BC about to attend a trade show. I had several suits with me but one I knew I was no longer fitting into well and need to get it let-out about half an inch. Upon contacting the concierge for the best place to take it, he advised me it was a holiday and most would be closed but he called around until he found one, that worked from her apartment complex with a shop downstairs, willing to work the holiday.

I took a cab to her place which was actually in North Vancouver near Grousse Mtn. Found her floor and rang her door bell to her apparment. She answered (I had expected an old lad,y with a cigarette dangling from her lips, needing extra cash but she was just, maybe, in her early 50's and, frankly, cute), exited, and we wallked downstairs to her shop. We entered and she locked the door behind us (so that others would not think the shop was opened for business).

She asked me what I needed done. I mentioned I needed my pants to be let out some, another had a bad hem on one of the legs, and a couple of shirts had a rip in the cuffs. She took the shirts and put them near her sewing table and told me to put on the pants. I stepped away a few steps and looked around for the dressing room or closet. I didn't see one. So, I looked for the curtained area and didn't see that either. I turned around and asked her where I could change. She pointed to the back of the store (not walled) and said to just go behind the shelf so passers-by couldn't see me from the street. I went behind the shelf but noticed she could clearly see me from the reflection in the three-way fitting mirror in front of her sewing machine. I wouldn't have much of a problem doing such except that I hadn't worn my undershorts this day since I wore tight fitting jeans. She was already busy working on the shirts and not looking in the mirror, so I removed my jeans and quickly put on my dress pants. I couldn't button them closed and zip; so, I just left it unbottoned and held them closed with my hands.

I walked to her and she motioned for me to get on the riser in front of the mirror. I got on the riser and she started tugging on the leg bottoms to check the fit over my shoes "need to lower these a little, too - bad hem" she said. Then she checked the fit on my legs and upper thighs (yes, that part is normal - though I admit it gets me a little hot) "that seems alright maybe just a little out; you always dress left?" I told her I did. Then she tugged on the back aournd the waist belt and noticed I was holding the button part with my hands and put her hand on mine and sort of gestured to let go so she could hold it and check the fit. She held the button clasp and had the other hand on my back waist belt to see how snug it was, marked a couple places with her soap bar and let go of the pants. Since I couldn't close or zip them and I didn't have an indication she was going to let them go - my pants fell to my upper thighs revieling all a man has to keep covered. Since I was standing in front of a three-way mirror, there was no doubt she could see it all. She glanced at the mirror, smirked, and told me I could remove those and try on the others that needed a re-hem.

I pulled my pants back up and stepped off to change into the others. As I was walking back she said her sons don't like to wear undershorts either. Not knowing what to say, I just asked how old they were (19 & 16) and then asked they same had happended to them on occaision. She said it had and she was proud of their size, paused, and then said mine was rather nice as well. With that I was blushing and chuckling like a little girl. But I have to acknowledge it put me at ease about being nude in front of her. With that, I didn't bother caring if she saw me or not.

With the other pants on, I stepped onto the riser again for her to check the hem on the pants. She did the usual and marked the pants and told me to go ahead and leave them there with her. Since I was now comfortable with her, I took off my pants at the sewing table and handed them to her. I stood next to her, nude, while she was sewing my shirt cuffs and chatted with her. She was talking about her boys and, somehow, got onto the subject of when they lost their virginity and that she had known they both lost them at the house in their respective rooms. With the oldest she told me the details of his, then, 16 yr old cheerleader girlfriend. She got very descriptive about the girls body as if she might have been bisexually interested in her. Frankly, the details she related gave me a nice erection. Oddly, I was still quite comfortable displaying this in front of her and she mentioned how my erection reminded her of the first time she saw her younger son's and that it had the same attractive look to it (I didn't know women thought some penises were attractive and others not attractive ... interesting tidbit I might not have ever known unless I encountered this situation).

Seems the first time she saw her youngest son's erection she caught him ************ on the bathroom floor of the house. He was embarrased at being caught but she told him it was alright and to continue. She sat on the toilet and told him to continue - he, of course, was frozen, but upon further motherly insistance continued. She said she then noticed he was doing it wrong and told him how to do it better (huh?, I thought, she knows how a boy should ********?). She continued on to another subject but I stopped her and asked her what she meant that she taught him better. She said that it was common that boys just 'pump and dump' while thinking about a girl and would need to, at that age, do it several times a day to remain satisfied. So, she had shown him how to releive himself enough to not need more later in the day. I asked her what it was that she had suggested to him. She said she didn't suggest but just sort of ... she paused, looked at my erect **** and said "oh the hell with it - here" and stood up, got behind me and began to stroke my **** with her left hand.

"Kneel down" she said. I got on my knees as she suggested. "No, more forward like you're about to get a prostate exam". So, I curled forward "*** in the air like a cat" and I did as instructed. With that, she took my right hand, pulled it between and through my legs, licked my fingers and stuck them into my *** then pulled them out. "See you can reach - this is what you need to do" and she began massaging my anus while jacking me with her left hand.

Once she got her fingers into my anus and was massaging it, I started to feel some build up, then some more, and more. It was intense pressure (almost like being on an airplane with the pressurised cabin making you need to fart to release the air pressure build up in your abdomen ... except the pressure was more central - in my prostate). As I began to pant, she changed the rythmn with which she was jacking me into a sort of longer stretch, to the left, slow tugging. I felt something squirt but the squirting was inside me rather than a pre-*** or ****** ... and yet, I felt an ****** (a mild one but with the same temporary paralytic effect). Then another, but with more intensity. Then another, and another, and another. Finally I was in such a state I was yelling "please, let me ***, please let me ***". I guess this got her hot too because she stood up and ******** with one hand while still ******* me with the other. I looked her body over - it was a bit wrinkly due to age but she still looked tight (sort of like Madonna of today). I reallly wasn't turned on by her body but felt, at this point, I needed to **** her. She climbed on top but turned around with her back to my face. While hopping up and down on my **** she was leaning forward (hips not touching my body - her *** was totally in the air so that I could see her lips moving with my ****) and she was continuing to massage my anus. Again, I had one of those internal squirt ******* from whatever the hell she was doing to my anus. Then another and another. Finally, she said she felt it (my ***? what?) and to get ready. I started to ask 'ready for wha..' all of a sudden It happened. I came so hard and so hot, I thought I was shooting molten lava and not ***. I felt a shudder, tingling cold, shoot from the top of my scalp down my spine to the tips of my toes. I was absolutely paralyzed by the joy of the pain I was feeling. She rode me progressively slower while I was spastically ******* inside her (my **** was continuing to throb but getting progressively slower and slower). Finally it subsided and she stood up as my **** fell out of her *****.

She cleaned me off with a towel and laid it over my limp body. I just lay there for several minutes while she, still nude, when back to her sewing. I finally composed myself enough to sit up and get a little out of view of the shop entrance - I have no idea if anyone saw or stopped for the free **** show but I recalled thinking the streets seemed a little desolate.

I finally had enough composure to put on a shirt but, when trying to put on my pants, started to feel internal throbbing (pre-******) when bring the pants up toward my crotch. "Leave em off for a bit" she said - or you'll just make a mess in them. So, I sat on the riser with nothing but a shirt on and still feeling some internal pulsating in my diaphram and somewhat below it. Finally, I told her I was feeling spasms inside - she said it was normal after and complete prostate evacuation. She said she had been a practicing nurse in her twenties and thirties but quit to raise her boys. She used to assist doctors with prostate exams; hence he knowledge of the male organs.

She finished her sewing and I paid her. She called me a cab and I finally, slowling and in whincing (pleasure) pain put my pants back on. The cab arrived and she told me to take a soaking bath when I got back to the hotel and not bother going out tonight that I needed to let it subside over a few hours.

I fell asleep that night to some of the most intense sex dream I have ever enjoyed. Certainly didn't wet the sheets since there was nothing left. In the morning, I got up to get dressed and head down for breakfast but still felt a little raw and a nodule of pain in my colon and prostate (which was mildly pulsing everytime I took a step). So, I callled for room service. Room service came and I didn't bother with a robe just asked the gal to leave it at the door and I signed the check while standing behind the door (all the while wanting to lay down some more).

A few hours later I was feeling well enough to dress and go to the tradeshow. There were some women flirting with me but I had no desire to **** anything the entire show. I was EMPTY.

I tried, a few times, to repeat that process but was never able to - I think I was focusing more on what I was feeling and not the technique and where she was touching in my body to fully understand.
deleted deleted
May 25, 2012