Threesome Passion in the Boutique

Spring had just begun to bloom, but the warm breeze and bright sun were already coaxing thoughts of sandy beaches and crashing waves. That afternoon, I convinced my husband, Nathan, to join me on a mission to find the perfect bikini to kick off the season.

I’m Lauren, 34, with a lean frame – perhaps too lean, if you ask Nathan, my friends, or the folks at the office where I work.

We roamed the downtown shops, but nothing sparked joy. The bikinis were either too flashy or too dull, and the colors felt all wrong. My frustration was mounting, and I could sense Nathan’s patience wearing thin.

I was ready to abandon the hunt when we passed a quaint boutique with a sign boasting custom – made swimsuits and bikinis.

Clasping Nathan’s hand, I tugged him inside, weaving through racks to the back of the store. The shopkeeper, who introduced himself as the owner, was a wiry, tall man with a warm smile and an air of quiet confidence. He greeted us with genuine courtesy.

– I noticed your sign about custom bikinis, – I said. – I’ve never seen a place offer that before.

– You’re absolutely right, ma’am, – he replied. – We’re the only shop in the city crafting swimsuits to fit your exact measurements. Most bikinis are churned out in standard sizes, built on assumptions: curvy women have large chests, slim ones don’t, or wide hips mean a fuller bust. Those clichés leave so many women with ill – fitting suits.

I wondered if he was subtly referencing my modest chest, but he seemed to catch my thought and swiftly clarified:

– For someone with your frame, a touch of padding in the top can enhance your silhouette beautifully. – He gestured to a mannequin showcasing a bikini top with subtle padding. – The bottoms offer more flexibility, but here’s what we can do: try on some sample pieces to see what flatters you most. Then we’ll choose the fabric.

The idea thrilled me. I hadn’t asked about cost, but the prospect of a bikini tailored to me was irresistible.

– I’d love something with a bold print, – I told him.

The owner, who introduced himself as Marcus, brought out the pieces separately. The top had built – in padding, which he explained would lift and shape my bust for a fuller, firmer look. The bottoms were high – waisted, with delicate ties that draped over the hips.

Marcus led me to the fitting room, then stepped back, leaving Nathan nearby. Feeling a bit self – conscious, I kept my underwear on beneath the bikini bottoms. It seemed silly – I’d be wearing less on the beach – but I wasn’t ready to bare it all in front of a stranger.

Once I had the bikini on, Nathan called Marcus over, chuckling at the visible panty lines where my underwear peeked out from under the bikini bottoms.

Marcus approached, his demeanor professional yet attentive. He started with the top, gently adjusting it from below to assess the fit. His fingers brushed the undersides of my breasts, and I felt a jolt-his touch was clinical but bold, especially with Nathan standing right there. Surprisingly, Nathan didn’t seem fazed.

Then Marcus moved to the bottoms, tugging at the side ties, lifting them higher, then easing them down. I wondered if he was being overly hands – on. As he adjusted the fabric, the bottoms shifted, exposing a sliver of my pubic hair. I quickly smoothed it back into place when he stepped away. He even slipped a finger under the back elastic, stretching it slightly and giving my butt a light pat to smooth out any wrinkles.

– This fit isn’t quite right, – Marcus said. – Let me grab a different style.

– Did you see how he touched me? – I hissed to Nathan when Marcus walked away.

Nathan just smirked. – Sweetheart, lose the underwear for the next one. You’re making a scene, – he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Marcus returned with a sleeker, more classic bottom and took the previous one. Following Nathan’s nudge, I stripped off my underwear completely before slipping on the new piece.

I pulled the bottoms up snugly and called Marcus back. He had me face the mirror in the fitting room, standing close behind me. I was still wearing the original bikini top.

– See here, – he said, pointing to my reflection’s crotch. – It’s too tight in the front.

He was right-my outline was far too pronounced for public wear. As he spoke, his finger traced the edge of the fabric, grazing the sensitive skin where my thigh met my groin. Then he tugged the elastic outward, his fingertips brushing my pubic hair and skimming the edges of my labia, sending an unexpected shiver through me.

– This is why custom fits matter, – he said. – You don’t want to put on a show at the beach. Have you ever considered a thong – style bikini?

– I don’t know, – I replied, hesitant. – That might be too much for me.

– Let me bring you one to try, along with a top that’s a bit more daring but still padded for support.

I closed the curtain and changed into the new set. The thong was tiny – definitely a size or two too small. The top was trickier to adjust, so I stepped out, thinking Nathan was alone. My breasts were barely contained, the fabric teasing the edges of my nipples. To my surprise, Marcus was there, not Nathan. He stepped forward, deftly securing the clasp.