by Lesley Finch
‘Anyway,’ she said, steadying her vertically rebounding J-cups with a firm hand and re-fastening the jacket button beneath them. ‘I’d better be getting on. Someone’s got to answer the phones while you’re all in here, after all. Hope the rest of today’s session goes well.’
No! Torn from the precipice of orgasm yet again! Roger felt his thick cock throb beneath his heart under his shirt, both organs thumping and pounding with pent-up sexual excitement. But Nina excused herself and left the room, leaving the door open for the approaching quartet of bosomy telephone operators.
‘I was so close,’ whispered Roger in frustration to Uschi. ‘So close!’
‘Hey, I tried,’ Uschi whispered back with a shrug that set her chest into an unwelcome wobble. ‘On the plus side, at least you don’t have massive wet cum stains all over your shirt.’
She had a point. When Roger got so tit-crazed he found himself unable to think more than a few seconds into the future. As his cock receded down his torso and back under his belt he reflected upon what a visible mess a full ejaculation into his shirt would have made, and decided that being cock-blocked again, infuriating though that felt, was probably for the best. But while his erection was shrinking back to an unobtrusive size, his balls felt fatter and heavier than ever, and those were perhaps even more difficult to conceal, even in the jet black trousers which for tactical purposes Roger always wore to work.
Louise, Sophie, Imogen and Jemima filed back into the room and took their seats ready to commence the second half of the morning’s training. Uschi sat at the front of the room before them and crossed her shapely legs.
‘Good break, I hope, ladies?’ Uschi smiled. ‘Nina popped in and we were telling her how well this is going. I hope you’re all enjoying it as much as I am!’
The girls mumbled polite responses, but it was fairly clear that they weren’t exactly having the times of their lives.
Undeterred by the lack of overt enthusiasm, Uschi pressed on. ‘I don’t know about you ladies, but I think tits are funny.’
Now what. Roger wondered where this was going, as no doubt did the others.
‘Yes, they’re sexy and erotic and give men huuuge boners,’ Uschi waved a dismissive hand, ignoring the mild shock that descended upon the room following this ribald observation, ‘But they’re squidgy and bouncy and silly, with a mind of their own, and they’re always getting themselves and us into trouble! So for this next session, I’d like us to share some embarrassing boob moments.’
‘What about him,’ said Imogen, pointing to Roger. ‘How can he join in? Shouldn’t he leave for this part?’
‘I’m sure that boobs have been a source of embarrassment for Roger,’ said Uschi. ‘In fact, Roger, why don’t we start with you. Any boob-based mishaps you could share with us?’
Roger gave Uschi a blank stare, but there was no way out of this. He had been involved in numerous bosom-centric indiscretions, and Uschi knew this all too well as she had choreographed most of them herself when she had worked for Roger previously.
‘Um,’ Roger began. He couldn’t think of a single story from his previous role that didn’t make want to masturbate frantically. He looked at the floor and recalled the fate of the Irish blonde Sarah O’Reilly once she had become entangled in one of Uschi’s schemes. ‘A young lady who worked for me in my last job outgrew her bra and top, and when she returned from the gym the braless one day, someone threw something to her and then when she lifted her arms to catch it her top slipped down and her… her breasts popped out.’ The memory of Sarah’s softly pink-nippled orbs escaping from the decoy boob-tube was still one of his go-to nostalgic wank-fantasies.
Uschi, alone, cackled at the story. ‘Oh Roger, how embarrassing for her! And how embarrassing for you, too! You can’t have known where to look.’
‘It was a little embarrassing, yes,’ said Roger. ‘But we all had a laugh about it afterwards.’
‘Did you look?’ asked Louise.
‘I, um, I was already looking in that direction when it happened, but I, um, I looked away very quickly.’
‘You can’t un-see a pair of bare breasts,’ said Uschi. ‘Even in that split second, I bet the sight of that young woman’s boobs was imprinted in your mind forever. It must have been impossible to resist picturing her topless every time you looked at her after that incident! I bet you could describe them for us now.’
‘Really, Uschi, I…’
‘Were they big, Roger?’
‘Yes, uh, they were quite big, I suppose.’
‘Big like Imogen’s?’
‘No, not that big,’ Roger wanted the floor to swallow him up. The weird tension in the room was unbearable. But then, that’s what they were paying Uschi to help them confront.
‘Out of all the pairs of boobs here in the room, Roger, which pair resembles the boobs belonging to the woman in your amusing story? Girls, sit up straight please.’
Four pairs of breasts, plus Uschi’s, were thrust out at Roger, a succulent, voluptuous iden-titty parade. He once again felt strange about staring so openly at his co-workers’ chests. ‘It’s, um, hard to tell with clothes on,’ Roger said, ‘But I’d say somewhere between Jemima and Louise, in terms of size.’
‘A decent, ample pair, then,’ said Uschi with a filthy glint in her dark eyes. ‘Good shape?’
‘They were sort of, um, sort of round, globular, sat quite high on her chest.’
‘Close-set or widely spaced?’
‘Close-set.’
‘Mmm,’ purred Uschi, ‘High, round boobs with a tight, natural cleavage. The lucky, lucky girl. With tits like that I think we’d all be flashing them at any given opportunity, wouldn’t we, girls?’
The response from the room was non-committal at best.
‘And the nipples, Roger, describe her nipples.’
‘P-pink?’
‘Big, small, soft, hard?’
‘Soft and sort of, sort of... medium-sized.’
‘Thank you, Roger, for sharing you story, and in such vivid detail. Now, who’s next with a bosom-themed anecdote? Jemima? I’m sure those elastic, erotic E’s have elicited entertaining exploits?’
Jemima pursed her lips and rolled her big blue eyes as she searched her largely empty head for a relevant memory. A big smile then spread across her face. ‘I was on the way back from my skiing trip,’ she began. ‘At this tiny airport in Switzerland. And my top set off the metal detector!’
‘You were wearing a metal top?’ said Sophie with a raised eyebrow.
‘No, it was this kind of sports top with built-in support,’ Jemima explained. ‘Turned out it had underwiring built into the material. Anyway, they asked me to pull my bra out from under my top, but I explained that the bra and the top were one and the same thing. It was all I was wearing! So I had no choice but to strip off and put my top through the X-ray scanner, and to go through security completely topless! It. Was. Hilarious.’
‘I can’t believe they made you do that!’ said Louise, horrified. ‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t see the funny side of that at all.’
‘Oh, but everyone was super nice about it. The lads all said I had great tits.’
‘You were with a party of men?’ Uschi pried.
‘Yeah, seven lads, and me the only girl on the trip. What makes it so funny is that they had all spent the whole week trying to get off with me, without success. And then right at the end they all got a good eyeful of my tits after all!’ Jemima barked a posh laugh at the irony and gently slapped her thigh.
‘Those lucky boys!’ enthused Uschi, alone in echoing Jemima’s merriment. ‘They must have enjoyed seeing your bare breasts very much, especially after such a long, long week without sex.’
‘I guess,’ shrugged Jemima. ‘We just laughed about it, really. You’re right, tits are funny, aren’t they!’
Roger filed the story away for future masturbatory contemplation, if indeed he ever got around to resolving this orgasm brewing in his nutsack at all.
; ‘Sophie, your turn,’ said Uschi to her fellow bosomy brunette. ‘Let’s hear a funny story involving those gorgeous G-cups.’
Sophie cast her pretty eyes down and contemplated her torpedo bosom, then smiled at a memory. ‘I don’t know about you girls, but I’ve been this size since school. And you know what boys are like.’
The other woman nodded in empathetic solidarity.
‘There was this one stupid trick they used to play, where they’d say: I bet you a quid I can make your tits move without touching them. And when you agreed, they’d grab your tits, jiggle them about and give you a quid.’
‘I remember that one,’ said Louise.
‘Anyway, one time, we decided to to play a bit of a trick on this one boy who was the biggest pervert of all of them. Gareth something, can’t remember his name. We got my friend Laura, who was really fit and had decent boobs and who could get any boy to do anything, we got Laura to dare him to play the trick on me. The twist was that she told him I wasn’t wearing a bra under my uniform. Which was true: I’d gone to the girls’ loos and whipped off my bra and put it in my school bag, so I was just wearing a tight white T-shirt and a tight blue blouse. And back in those days I was a lot slimmer in the hips and bum, but already with these things sticking horizontally out from my chest. They’re firm now, but they were really firm then. So, Gareth takes the bait and swaggers up to me, and gives me the line. And I accept the challenge. But what Gareth doesn’t realise is that not only am I braless under my school uniform, I’ve also sprayed the front of my blouse with superglue.’
‘No!’ Jemima clapped her hands in excitement, seeing what was coming.
‘So, Gareth slaps his hands onto my massive tits and instantly gets them stuck there! He couldn’t let go!’ Sophie laughed at the memory. ‘Those grubby hands groping and squeezing. He looked a right wally!’
Roger couldn’t help feel that Gareth’s good fortune in being forced to hold on to Sophie’s titanic teen knockers for so long significantly outweighed any humiliation he may have suffered as a consequence.
‘What a fantastic prank, Sophie!’ Uschi enthused. ‘Serves Gareth right!’
‘I know, he had his hands stuck to my boobs for half an hour before we managed to release him. I guess the slightly embarrassing part we hadn’t thought through was that the glue had glued my shirt to the T-shirt underneath. Thankfully not to my actual boobs, though. I’d brought a spare blouse to change into, which was just as well because we had to cut through my blouse and T-shirt to get him disentangled from me, so he got to see my bare boobs into the bargain. But it was worth it to see the look on his face. Came in his pants twice, the stupid boy!’ She blushed a little, surprised to hear herself say something so rude aloud. Uschi grinned.
‘Once while he was groping and squeezing your bosom, and then again when he got to see you topless?’ Uschi inquired, taking notes.
Sophie stopped to think. ‘Oh, then it must have been three times. I remember that cum-face twice while we were trying to wrestle free from one another. There was a lot of jiggling and writhing involved. I wanted to make sure he got the full effect to embarrass him as much as I could. Then I’m pretty sure he had another orgasm when my clothes ripped open. He had to bury that spotty face of his in my naked cleavage while we pulled the clothes up over my back and down my arms, and I made sure he got a big jiggly faceful. I actually felt his boner between my legs, all hot and throbbing. It was pretty gross. But he never did it again.’
Roger could imagine nothing better, and wished he had been to school with Sophie, or any girl with big breasts combined with such a flair for erotic practical jokes. He was also struck by how this emphasis on whimsy was so easily unlocking these raunchy tales. Uschi knew what she was doing.
‘Louise, let’s hear from you. Those fabulously-formed F’s must have got you into some amusing situations?’
‘Well,’ smiled Louise, also slowly displaying less discomfort with the running theme of the morning. ‘Roger’s story about his Irish colleague and her shrinking boob-tube reminded me of a similar incident from last year.’
Roger’s cock braced itself for yet more masturbatory wardrobe malfunction material. He was almost having trouble breathing, so excited was he to be the sole male audience for these lusty, busty monologues.
Louise began her tale. ‘My best friend was getting married, and me and three other old friends from uni were bridesmaids. Now, as you girls know, you really don’t want to upstage the bride on her big day, but Christina was flat as an ironing board. She was something like a double-A. The rest of us were a double-D at least, and there’s me with these perky F-cup whoppers outdoing the lot of them. So, Christina hasn’t said anything about the boob situation, but us bridesmaids, we all agree we’re going to strap ourselves down good and proper, really try to minimise our tits as much as we can. At first we’re thinking sports bras, but then we go to the dress fitting, and the designs are all strapless bare-shouldered dresses. So we get the tightest ones we can, really smooshing our chests in.’
Louise demonstrated by placing her hands on the softly pointed tips of her bosom and flattening the whole lot inwards. It suddenly became very apparent from the pliant nature of the mass of tit meat under her blue blouse that Louise was braless, today of all days. Roger marvelled inwardly at how effectively Louise’s perky, jutting bust had created the illusion that it was being supported by anything other that its own supernatural shapeliness. The attractive blonde pulled her hands away and her chest expanded back outwards. For the briefest moment the outlines of her nipples were evident through the cotton, stiff from the hands-on attention, but they softened again and her chest resumed its gently conical curve again.
‘The plan worked okay for the others,’ Louise went on, ‘But I had my doubts. I was the only one showing cleavage, because there was simply so much boob it had nowhere else to go but up! Also, my nipples are placed quite high on my chest, so I really had to tuck them down under the neckline of the bridesmaid dress. I could literally feel them fighting to get out and spring up. But the alternative was a dress cut to my actual figure, and there was no way I could do that without these tits drawing all the attention away from the bride. The cleavage on show would have been X-rated, so I went with the tight, flattened-tits option.’
Roger’s heart pounded in anticipation.
‘We get through the morning fine, I can feel my boobs are very unhappy being so constricted. They’re uncomfortable enough in a bra, let alone some corseted Disney princess dress. But then we’re leaving the church. Everyone’s outside, confetti in the air, bells ringing, and the photographer wants his pictures. Christina throws the bouquet of flowers up, back over her head, high in the air…’
The girls all cringed, seeing what was coming, on tenterhooks. Roger was leaning forward on the edge of his seat, too, though that was mainly to hide his erection.
‘I don’t even know why I went for it. I don’t want to get married, not for a long time anyway! But as I raised my arms, I felt the seam on the side of the dress finally rrrrip apart. The dress had lost the battle against the F-cups. And out they came. Like a Jack-in-the-Box. Two Jack-in-the-Boxes, in fact! Just as the wedding photographer took the picture! And I didn’t even catch the bloody flowers! The girl behind me did. So I’m just standing there, arms high in the air, with my tits out for everyone to see.’
‘So much for not upstaging the bride!’ chuckled Sophie.
‘I still have the picture,’ said Louise, taking her smartphone from her trouser pocket and quickly scrolling back through twelve months of photos.
Roger’s heart raced so fast he didn’t know which would happen first: the orgasm or the cardiac arrest.
‘Oh, please let’s see,’ said Uschi, and skipped, boobs bouncing, from her seat to join Sophie and Jemima looking over Louise’s shoulder.
‘I, um, no thanks,’ said Roger as dispassionately as he could, even though no-one had asked him directly. Of course, he wanted nothing more than to see
this indecent wedding photo, but he wanted to do so in the privacy of his own home where he could give it the wanking response it deserved. Imogen, too, stayed where she was, looking at her fingernails in boredom.
A roar went up from Uschi, Sophie, and Jemima as the image in question finally appeared on Louise’s smartphone screen.
‘Fucking hell, Lou,’ said Sophie. ‘You weren’t kidding. Your tits are the only thing in the picture in focus, too!’
‘And what a pair,’ gushed Uschi. ‘So… so ample, yet so youthful. And those plump, pink, juicy nipples, such a tastefully gentle contrast to your smooth, creamy skin. And so well-defined!’
‘And he’s caught you mid-jump,’ laughed Jemima. ‘Look how high your boobs are bouncing!’
‘I’m not jumping,’ said Louise. ‘That’s what my tits look like when I’m standing still.’
‘You weren’t kidding when you said you were perky,’ laughed Sophie. ‘They’re going to have to rewrite the laws of physics around those norks! And I thought I was lucky!’
Although Roger couldn’t see the picture, the description was enough to drive him to the borders of sense.
Louise put the phone away. ‘I actually managed to cover myself up really quickly. Within seconds. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the photographer caught the moment so clearly, I’d have got away with it. Christina’s not spoken to me since, but it’s the photographer she should be angry with. What was he thinking, even sending the photo out to everyone to begin with? He could have just deleted that one! Oh well. You’ve got to laugh, haven’t you?’
Wrong, thought Roger. I’ve got to cum.
Last up was Imogen. It was going to take a lot to thaw her frosty attitude to the proceedings this far, especially with regard to Roger’s presence and involvement, which she—perhaps understandably—deemed inappropriate. It was this stance that struck Roger as the single most obvious reason to discount the far-fetched rumours of her shimmying burlesque double life. Indeed, perhaps it was the sheer absurdity of the notion that had given rise to it in the first place.