by Lesley Finch
‘Laugh?’ Roger would splutter in disbelief. ‘Your breasts may be many things, but they are certainly not funny.’
‘Sexy?’
‘Very.’
‘Do they make you hard?’
‘They’ve given me a huge erection.’
‘Huge. Is that so? A huge boner for a huge bust. Anything in particular about my act really do it for you? Apart from simply the sight of my big tits?’
‘The jiggling,’ Roger would confess. ‘The jiggling turns me on more than anything.’
‘Like this?’ And Roger pictured Imogen giving him a private shimmy-show in this imaginary, dingy revue bar dressing room. Arms above her head, she would fix him with those cold, pale eyes while she let her ponderous boobs sway to and fro, thumping heavily into one another as they wobbled for his erotic entertainment.
‘Yes, Imogen, yes. Please don’t stop.’
‘If I keep going, what will happen?’
‘I’ll cum, Imogen. I’ll cum so hard.’
‘I want to see. Get it out.’
In real life, Roger would have hesitated, but in this raunchy, convenient fantasy he pictured himself whipping off his belt and opening his trousers to let an erection spring free in honour of Imogen’s sensuously jiggling mammaries. ‘I really shouldn’t be doing this,’ he’d mutter. ‘You’re a work colleague… I’m your manager…’
‘I can keep a secret if you can?’ Imogen would wink, completely out of character.
The thrilling notion of a shared erotic pact sent Roger’s cock to full, rigid erectness.
‘Now,’ he pictured Imogen continuing while her huge breasts swung to and fro. ‘Where’s this cumload you promised me?’
‘It… it’s on its way.’
‘Don’t you want to wank?’ A dreamy suggestion as Imogen continues to shimmy her soft breasts, tassels shaking hypnotically at their extremities. ‘Don’t you want to grab that shaft and rub it until you cum?’
‘I’d much rather you used those magnificent tits to wank me,’ Roger would say.
Imogen would smile at this, a smile Roger had again not seen before, a naughty, horny smile, a little bite of the lower lip. ‘Oh Roger, how naughty you are! I suppose I had better remove these nipple tassels first, hadn’t I?’
Roger had pieced together a photofit impression of Imogen’s nipples from overheard conversations with colleagues and customers, and as, in his perverted mind’s eye, Imogen peeled the tassels from her breasts, it was these nipples that came into view. Smooth, wide, pale areolae, soft to the touch, with small, soft flat nipples at their centres. It took a lot to get them erect, and Roger wondered quite how much attention it would acquire, and whether he’d even have the stamina to get that far if he ever found himself in the nude company of those huge, sloshing jugs in real life.
For now, however, he had his lazy sexual daydream to tide him over. Imogen was, in this fantasy, now fully topless, wearing only a tiny pair of fancy lace knickers and shiny red stilettos. ‘Get those tits wobbling again,’ he imagined himself instructing her. ‘And let them wobble all around my dick until I spunk all over them!’
Now giddy and enthusiastic a way that completely contradicted her everyday persona, this absurdly saucy fantasy version of Imogen advanced upon Roger, then leaned over until her massive, swinging knockers started colliding with his stiff cock as they careened heavily from side to side. This sensation was, Roger presumed, overwhelmingly pleasurable, and truly the most fitting way for such a luscious bosom and so eager a boob-loving boner to pay erotic tribute to one another.
‘I’ve a confession to make,’ Imogen would say as her bust motorboated Roger’s twitching erection. ‘You won’t believe this, but… I’ve never done this before.’
‘You’ve never had a man’s erection between your jiggling breasts?’
‘I know! Crazy, huh? With bosoms like these?’
‘You’ve a lot of catching up to do, then, haven’t you?’
Imogen’s tits were so big that, in this fantasy scenario, her cleavage swallowed up not just Roger’s nine throbbing inches, but a fair portion of his nutsack, too. For a man of Roger’s intense bosomy cravings there could be no such thing as a bad titfuck. But then again, the three women he had been fortunate to share one with had been stunning in every respect—Vanessa, the immensely-endowed lingerie model Shelley, and of course those countless times with Uschi while she had been supposedly “curing” him of this fetish. Oh what tits, and what explosive titfucks!
‘Uuuuhnngggh oh fuck oh fuck uuuunnngghh!’ Roger was cumming, cumming, and cumming again, having only just made it into the toilet cubicle in time for his bloated balls to give way and purge themselves of their sticky white contents all over the cistern in violent relief. Roger kept his vocal gratitude to a muffled minimum, despite the gents’ loos being deserted as usual. He was the only man on this administrative floor of the building, and one of the only men in the company, the other few working principally down on the factory floor and mail room, or as drivers. So this lavatory space functioned primarily as Roger’s private ejaculatory sanctuary. Head and balls clear for now, Roger returned to his desk, refreshed, and got back to work.
When the last of the girls had gone home and Roger was alone in the team’s corner of the open plan office, Roger dialled Uschi’s number and waited.
‘Roger!’ The sound alone of that husky Bavarian purr set Roger’s cock back on course toward erectness.
‘Uschi, can you talk?
‘With you, Roger darling? Any time!’
‘Are you at the office.’
‘Well, that’s my first piece of news. We were made redundant.’
‘Redundant?’
‘After you left.’
‘Uschi, I’m so sorry, that was never my intention…’
‘It’s okay. We were all paid off quite well, those of us who had been there longest, anyhow.’
‘Well, it’s good timing, because I’ve sold Nina Bridges on our idea.’
‘The consultancy?’ Uschi’s voice brimmed with filthy mischief.
‘The consultancy, correct. We should meet up and discuss next steps. Can you come here to Tempest tomorrow?’
‘I have a better idea, Roger. Dinner at your apartment. Tonight.’
Roger gulped. His brain told him this whole scheme was a terrible idea, but his cock… well, his brain had never been much of a match for his cock, then or now.
The Marks & Spencer ready meal for two was in giving off its aroma of flavourless boiled steam from the microwave when Roger answered the door.
Uschi wagged her eyebrows. ‘Miss me, Roger?’
‘Uschi, come in.’ Roger said, suddenly nervous in the dark-haired, olive-skinned German’s strong feminine presence. Uschi was more cock-stiffeningly beautiful than he remembered. Unemployment had her dressed in jeans and a grey T-shirt, but her figure and poise couldn’t have been more erotic than if she were in a wet bikini. ‘Make yourself at home.’
‘Thank-you, Roger,’ smiled Uschi and, entering the living space, reached under her T-shirt and yanked from within a beige strapless soft-cup bra, which she flung onto the settee on top of her handbag. Her luscious, proud E-cups bobbed in grateful braless freedom under the grey cotton, the outlines of those fleshy, puffed areolae in delectable evidence.
‘Now, Uschi…’ Roger wanted to put his foot down. This time, he was going to stay in control.
‘But you said to make myself feel at home?’ pouted Uschi in a schoolgirl sulk. ‘First thing I do when I get home is take off this stupid unnecessary bra. Surely you remember that?’
Roger tried to tear his eyes from Uschi’s excellent breasts as they bobbed and pouted so impudently under her top. Her body drove him crazy, and Uschi knew it.
‘How long has it been, Roger,’ asked Uschi, massaging the sides of her breasts through her T-shirt where the straps had been digging in.
‘Two months, I think,’ said Roger.
‘No, I mean your cock,’ said
Uschi bluntly. ‘When you’ve thought about me, my pussy, my arse, my lips, this big juicy titties. How long has your cock been?’
Uschi’s fascination with big penises bordered on the same levels of fetishism as Roger’s enthusiasm for the well-developed female breast, and had been part of the reason she had taken her last little scheme with Roger as far as she had. What had started as an attempt to render banal the erotic mystery of his colleagues’ bosoms through endless over-familiarity had ended as a rather transparent series of excuses for Uschi to indulge in Roger’s hefty nine inch boner for her own selfish pleasure. The cravings she had unleashed in her forty-year-old manager had made him so worried about the fantasies he might find himself compelled to enact in real life that he had quit his job. The irony that, after a period of unemployment, he had found himself managing a big-bust lingerie support telephone line was lost on neither Roger nor Uschi.
‘The same as ever,’ Roger said. Somewhat naively, he hadn’t expected the conversation to get so graphic so quickly. ‘Nine inches.’
‘Nine and a half, Roger,’ Uschi corrected him with a lick of her plump pink lips. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. Maybe I should rephrase that.’
Too late, Roger was already very hard on himself, his cock well on a way to its full nine, or nine and a half, inches in his suit trousers.
Ping! The microwave announced that the bland instant dinner was ready. Roger jumped.
‘So nervous, Roger,’ said Uschi, descending with bosom-rebounding heaviness to the settee. ‘Can I do something to help you relax? Anything?’
‘Oh fuck, Uschi, oh fuck yes!’ The animal in Roger surfaced at an alarming rate, he scrambled over the armrest of the settee and pounced on his unorthodox lover, grabbing her chunky, pliant 34E tits through her T-shirt and kneading them in horny desperation.
Uschi cackled. ‘So predictable, Roger. I love it!’
‘I just can’t resist,’ babbled Roger. He untucked her T-shirt and yanked it up to her neck, letting those delicious olive-tanned tits tumble and bounce downwards, the pale, swollen areolae at their rounded peaks gazing upwards and outwards. ‘Fuck Uschi, I’ve missed your tits!’ He cupped them, buried his stubbled chin between them and smothered them in clumsy kisses.
‘Have your way with them, Roger darling,’ Uschi said, her tone suddenly softening, fond and kind. Encouraging.
Roger had already taken the liberty, and his cock throbbed, wet and sticky, in his pants as he squeezed and fondled those breasts, so welcome, so very necessary after his afternoon at work spent in protracted sexual daydreams about his new cast of big-titted co-workers. What a relief it was that Uschi still welcomed his dirty, groping advances. Uschi, who could have any man, slouching on his sofa, chuckling filthily as she allowed her plump, shapely breasts to be manhandled by Roger Addington, whose only really attractive physical attribute was his long, girthy cock.
‘Let it all out, Roger,’ said Uschi, as though she were calming an inconsolable weeping child.
And that’s what Roger did. Wheezing, heart thumping, he reluctantly let go of Uschi’s comely boobs, wrestled his trousers open and scrambled angrily out of them, then knelt by the German beauty’s side in shirt, socks, and underpants. His erection was bent awkwardly to one side, held in place against his hip by the elastic of his Y-fronts.
Uschi’s eyes lit up at the sight of that fat purple fist of a cockhead that throbbed and glistened at the business end of his veiny, improbably outsized shaft, and inhaled its fresh, spunky aroma with a flutter of her mascara-thick eyelashes. ‘You’re so close to cumming, Roger,’ she growled. ‘It’s my tits, isn’t it? You need to empty your big nuts all over them, no?’
Roger confirmed that, unsurprisingly, she was correct in that assumption, and tugged his underpants down with difficulty and discomfort until, with a shuddering twang, his cock was unleashed, swinging rigidly forth to look Uschi straight in the eye. His scrotum, too, breathed a visible sigh of relief, expanding beneath the base of his shaft as his pants descended around his hairy thighs.
Needing no further instruction, Uschi peeled her T-shirt off from where it still sat bunched under her armpits and around her neck, shaking her lustrous dark brown hair and equally lustrous breasts as she flung the top to the carpet. She turned her torso to face Roger directly, curling shapely leg beneath shapely bottom, then arched her back and cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently together in a happy invitation to titfuck.
In Roger’s dick went, making it halfway into Uschi’s cleavage before running out of room and nudging her breastbone with his plum head. Slick and slippery, it rode up and back into view below Uschi’s chin, whereupon Roger began bucking his hips in a series of sharp, eager jerks, lasting a grand total of ten seconds before his testicles gave in and he began to cum. The weak series of spurts that flopped onto Uschi’s quivering knockers was hardly Roger’s finest sexual hour.
‘I know you can do better than that,’ frowned Uschi as she surveyed the lacklustre pearl necklace with which Roger had bestowed her chest.
Roger muttered an apology as he extracted his wilting, twitching dick from Uschi’s cleavage. He grabbed a handful of paper tissues (an inveterate wanker, Roger had boxes of man-size Kleenex positioned throughout the apartment so that there was always one within arm’s reach), and wiped Uschi’s fine tits clean as best he could, moaning with woozy post-orgasmic pleasure as he did so. Uschi was right: Roger could do a lot better. He thought of the long cumshots that had in the past sailed through the air like lassos in Uschi’s honour.
Uschi, mildly disappointed in this below-par ejaculatory welcome from her old partner in crime, pulled her T-shirt back on as Roger stuffed as much of his long, weary cock back into his pants as would fit, and, dressed again, the two repaired to the kitchen table to eat the chicken and steamed broccoli. Roger poured a cheap Pinot Grigio.
‘So,’ said Uschi. ‘While you replenish your protein levels for what I hope will be a salute worthy of my titties before I go home, let’s talk business.’
Roger explained the situation. ‘Nina staffed the helpdesk with big-busted girls because she thought they would empathise with the issues our customers face. But while they seem happy discussing their bosoms with one another, they’re not really extending that familiarity to the women who phone us. And they certainly won’t open up to me, and I’m the one who has to train them.’
‘So your plan is, if they can get to the point where they can open up to you, a man, about their big boobs, then they could open up to anyone.’ Uschi knocked back a big mouthful of wine.
‘This is what I explained to Nina, and she agrees it’s worth a shot. I told her you’re a freelance consultant who specializes in breaking down these kinds of sexual barriers. You start on Monday.’
Uschi writhed in glee, a forkful of veg in her hand. Her perky, braless breasts writhed and rotated in her T-shirt in voluptuous anticipation of this preposterous caper. ‘I love it, Roger. This is going to be fun. You and I, together again, but on the same side! Getting all those bra sizes again, just like before…’
Roger stopped her. ‘That really won’t be necessary, Uschi. I know all of their bra sizes. The girls’ vital statistics are a matter of common office knowledge.’
‘Well,’ said Uschi, her excitement unaffected, ‘Then we take it a step further. How would you like to titfuck all of them? I could make it happen, I’m sure.’
Roger raised a hand. ‘No Uschi, I really can’t go that far. Let’s just stick to what you’re being paid for, okay? I just need to bond with the girls over their breasts.’
Uschi leaned back in the kitchen chair, tossed her luscious dark hair back, and raised a dark, dramatic eyebrow. She folded her arms over her full, soft bosom. ‘Not even some toplessness?’
Roger hesitated a little too long, which caused Uschi to smirk. ‘No,’ he insisted. ‘Talking to the girls candidly about their breasts will be more than enough for me.’
‘But I get to wank you off when it gets too
much, no?’
‘Well, that goes without saying,’ said Roger with an involuntary, salacious lick of his lips.
‘I see.’ Uschi eyed Roger for a moment. ‘Okay, I’ll do my best not to let things get out of control. Tell me, what tactics have you tried so far?’
‘Nothing, really,’ Roger shrugged.
‘Well, what ideas have you had?’
Roger, with a sigh, related, in detail, the scenarios he had pictured earlier in the day, in which he had used the burden of his oversized cock as an icebreaker. By the end of it, Uschi, to Roger’s embarrassment, was hysterical with laughter, tears rolling down her tan cheeks.
‘Oh Roger!’ she rasped once she had caught her breath. ‘Oh Roger, I missed you and your silly mind!’ She reached across the table and patted his hand as a sign that she meant this affectionately.
‘That’s the problem,’ he said, looking down at his empty plate, brow furrowed. ‘Any management strategies I try to come up with just end up as sex fantasies. I guess I don’t have your knack for… well, for plausibility.’
‘Oh Roger,’ Uschi roared in high amusement, dividing the remaining tepid wine between their glasses. ‘Plausible? You call those situations from last time plausible?’
‘They worked, didn’t they?’
‘They did,’ Uschi conceded with a humble smile. ‘It’s true.’
‘So,’ said Roger, standing to clear the plates. ‘Do we have an agreement?’
‘Get the girls to open up to you about their big boobs,’ said Uschi. ‘No bare tits, no titfucking.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise,’ said Uschi, one hand mischievously behind her back. ‘Now, Roger, more importantly, I can’t help but notice that the sexual fantasies you told me about seem to have restored that fat, boner of yours. How about a proper tribute to these titties before I go home?’