by Lesley Finch
And so, when the team assembled in the conference room for the second session of the week, Roger’s genitals had experienced nearly twenty-four restorative hours of neglect, and he had purposely avoided Uschi upon arriving at work so as to eliminate the early-morning temptation to help himself to her freely offered feminine bounty.
Uschi threw her suit jacket over the back of a chair and paced the room while the girls settled down. She was looking stunning, a black skirt suit this time, with a skintight low-cut T-shirt top in vivid crimson. Her cleavage was a tight, deep curve, and her breasts looked massive. ‘I hope you all got the memo about wearing a bra today,’ she said.
The girls nodded.
‘And there’s a good reason I asked,’ Uschi continued, ‘As I wanted to start the day on that very subject. Bras. It’s what you manufacture and sell here, and, as with your breasts themselves, it’s important for you to be comfortable talking about them. So I thought we could start with some Show & Tell. I’ll start.’
And, amid concerned muttering from the assembled women and a frantic warning throb in Roger’s pants, Uschi peeled off her crimson top, threw it onto the back of the chair with her jacket, and stood before the group in heels, tight knee-length skirt, and a sexy lace push-up bra, also in black. Her bouncy black curls cascaded onto her olive shoulders.
Ignoring the rather shocked reaction, Uschi proceeded. ‘This is a 34E Wonderbra I’ve had for a couple of years. It’s comfortable, snug, keeps the girls nicely in check. And I adore the cleavage it gives me. The elasticated shoulder straps also help distribute the bouncing across my whole bosom: I don’t know about you but I find it more distracting when the tops of my boobs bounce and wobble when the bottoms stay completely still.’ She tugged at the straps, setting her chest into gentle vertical motion, her deep cleavage writhing cosily.
The room stared at her, wide eyed.
Uschi turned her back on the group and reached her hands around behind her and indicated the back strap. ‘It has a three-hook fastener,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Which opens like this.’ And to everyone’s further surprise, Uschi snapped open the hooks, letting the straps fall away and baring her elegant, slender back.
Imogen began to say something, then stopped.
Uschi turned again to face the team, and, as though it were the most normal thing in the world, slipped the black straps from her shoulders with her lacquered fingernails, and let the bra from her breasts, which expanded outward a little, but didn’t drop an inch. Her wide areolae, smooth, softly swollen and a fraction of a shade lighter than her skin, rose, bulbous, from the upswept globes that now bobbed nude for the assembled office workers to see.
Roger hit full erectness, and adjusted the legal pad on his lap accordingly. The only other time he had seen Uschi’s breasts naked and had been unable to grope and inseminate them had been in the communal sauna in Frankfurt, and the experience was as unbearable now as it had been then.
Uschi went on to point out the bra’s construction and underwiring, noting various interesting features, quite plainly and matter-of-factly, then passed it around the group, her exquisitely well formed bosom wobbling stark naked mere inches from everyone’s face as she walked around the group, leaning over and pointing out aspects of the stitching close up. She lingered an especially long while with Roger, and the warmth from her soft, gravity-defying cantaloupes made him want to lean forward and suckle one of those luscious areolae until she begged him to fuck her right there in front of everyone. He imagined those heavy dangling jugs flanking his dick, cum spurting all over them, yearning as though it had been months and not hours since it had last done so.
Uschi returned to the front of the conference room to address the small semicircle of four mildly alarmed women and one heavily turned on Roger. The black Wonderbra dangled from her finger, her breasts plump and proud before her. ‘So,’ she purred. ‘Who’s next?’
To Roger’s surprise, and perhaps to Uschi’s as well, one hand shot enthusiastically in the air. It was Jemima, eager to please as ever.
‘You’re not serious, Jemima, surely?’ Imogen scolded, then folded her arms over her pillowy young bosom and rolled her eyes as Jemima, ignoring her, left her seat and scampered up to the front to take Uschi’s place while Uschi, not bothering to cover up her beautiful bare breasts, pulled her seat across and sat down next to Roger.
‘Hi,’ Jemima gave a little wave and grinned. ‘Before I do this, just got to say, Uschi: amazing boobs!’
‘Aw, thank-you Jemima,’ said Uschi with a modestly dismissive wave of her hand.
Jemima was dressed in bleached jeans and a floaty polka dot blouse, her blonde hair up in a fashionable top knot. The blouse was loose fitting but, tucked into her jeans, it occasionally strained across her firm chest, which appeared smooth, round, and firm.
‘So,’ she said with a toothy laugh. ‘My bra. Let me show you it.’
Jemima began to unbutton her blouse, a tight, thin line of cleavage the first indication of what was on its way. Roger couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Was Uschi really going to get all these girls to strip down to their bras, or even completely topless? Her body confidence and casual continental attitude towards public nudity were certainly disarming, and, in Jemima’s case, apparently quite infectious.
The polka dot blouse opened to reveal a cream bra, unpadded, silk cups and lace trim, from which the upper halves of her domed breasts rose breathtakingly. Jemima let the blouse fall elegantly from her shoulders and threw it onto her chair. Her upper body was slim, but effortlessly so, not toned. Whatever modelling aspirations she may have had before they were scuppered by the onset of voluminous breast growth had clearly given way to a carefree diet and lifestyle, and her attractive, supple curves were none the worse for it.
‘This is my favourite bra,’ she said. ‘It’s actually a thirty-four double-D rather than a thirty-two E, but I prefer a smaller cup and larger band because I don’t like the band sitting against my ribcage. I know it’s not what you’re supposed to do, and I’d never advise a customer to do it, but it’s just that my boobs are so close-set together that any kind of central gore is simply too uncomfortable. And luckily my breasts are so firm that they push the bra away. It gives me some under-cleavage, which I think is kind of cute.’ She hefted her bust to show that, indeed, the bra was being held an inch or two away from her ribcage by her proudly jutting breasts. Roger instantly pictured his dick disappearing up into that tight, tight crack. How unforgivingly firm a titwank must be from this lissom, busty blonde!
‘I took the underwires out for the same reason,’ Jemima continued. ‘Really it’s my boobs holding the bra up, not the other way around. I just wear it because it looks pretty. Don’t you think?’
‘It’s gorgeous,’ Uschi enthused, and the others mumbled in agreement. ‘And unpadded, presumably?’
‘Yes, unpadded,’ nodded Jemima with a nervous laugh. ‘I think my boobs are big enough, frankly.’
‘And is it comfortable?’ asked Uschi. ‘The lace against your skin?’
‘Oh yes, very comfortable,’ said Jemima. ‘It’s much softer against my skin than you’d think.’
‘Please, Jemima,’ said Uschi, ‘Pass it around so that we can feel it for ourselves.’
Roger’s heart rate accelerated to critical levels as Jemima, beaming obligingly, reached back and snapped open the bra, then shrugged it off into her hand and stood up straight.
It might have been tempting to conclude at first sight that Jemima’s breasts were fake, the work of a cosmetic surgeon, so geometrically hemispherical, so unyieldingly, immovably firm, so naturally tight of cleavage, as though a second, invisible bra was holding them rigidly in place. Her nipples, riding high on these opulent young grapefruit-sized orbs, were much as Roger had imagined them, relatively small in diameter but bulbously rounded and a deep, sweet shade of pink, softly swollen at first but then stiffening quickly in the cold air-conditioning upon release from the warmth of the bra
in a way that Uschi’s hadn’t. Jemima’s breasts were, it seemed, much more sensitive than Uschi’s.
Roger was as apoplectically furious as his rampant erection. Uschi had violated their agreement already. No toplessness, no titfucking, that was what had been discussed when Uschi had been round for dinner. Yet here was tall, opulently-endowed Jemima standing at the front of the conference room with both her excellent breasts quite unmistakably nude. Not to mention Uschi, likewise bare-bosomed, although she probably didn’t really count under those terms.
Jemima passed the bra to Uschi, who was sitting closest, and invited her to run her fingers along the inside of the cups.
‘So silky soft,’ remarked Uschi, with one eye on the peachy bare breasts that hung before her from Jemima’s long, slim torso as she stooped. ‘Roger, you really must feel them.’
The infuriating tease! Doing his best not to make eye-to-nipple contact with his beautiful blonde co-worker’s chest, Roger took the bra and felt inside the cups. They were still warm. He wanted to lay the bra out on the conference table and rub his cock until he gushed cum all over the cream-coloured lace, then use his spent, stamina-enriched cock to titfuck Jemima’s bosom to titgasm. He hoped Jemima didn’t notice the A4 notepad on his lap lurch as his cock gave a sudden violent shudder, but he was certain that Uschi would have.
‘You don’t have the same red marks on your back and shoulders as I do,’ Uschi said, impressed, as Jemima continued her small bra-sharing circuit of the room.
Jemima stopped to look down and run her hands around her breasts. ‘No, I suppose not,’ she said. ‘I never have to do the thing up too tightly, you see.’
Uschi sat up straight. ‘Look Roger,’ she said, drawing the tit-maniac’s attention to her quivering bare bosom, as though that were necessary. She raised her arm. ‘Look at the marks where the bra strap has dug into my side. And under my breasts.’
Roger looked. He wanted to cum, so very, very badly.
Uschi stood, breasts bouncing gently. ‘Thank-you for sharing, Jemima. We’ll take a short break now, during which I would like you to decide amongst yourselves who will go next.’
Less than a minute later, Uschi was standing at the basin in the gents’ washroom again, skirt and knickers around her ankles, this time facing the mirror while Roger stood behind her, fucking her tight quim as far as his erection would go whilst savouring the reflection of her breasts jiggling while he cupped them lightly from below with sweaty, needy hands. The dusky young Bavarian’s buttocks, as proud, plump, and jiggly as her mammaries, slapped rhythmically against Roger’s bare hips to cold, soothing effect.
This was another new experience for Roger, a new sexual position he had never dreamed he would one day find himself performing in real life, especially with a woman of such magnificently appointed physical characteristics as young Uschi. As he fucked, jiggled, groped, and savoured the opportunity to gaze with unrestricted lasciviousness on Uschi’s sizeable, olive-hued bosoms and shiny, prominent areolae as they jostled and jiggled with each greedy thrust of his fat erection into her slick, dripping European cunt, Roger once again reflected gratefully on the fact that Uschi’s sheer irresistible physicality cancelled out any nerves which, in the company of a less succulently proportioned partner, may have robbed him of his ability to perform. The urge to become instantly erect in Uschi’s company, the compulsion to empty his balls over every part of her supple, juicy naked body was an instinct, a reflex, beyond anything he felt able to rationalise.
‘You can cum in me if you want,’ panted Uschi, likewise lost in her animal side.
‘But you need to see this load,’ said Roger, ‘and so do I.’
Unable to hold back the tidal wave of jism surging and teeming within his taut billiard-ball testicles, Roger bent at the knees to let the length of cock that Uschi had the vaginal capacity to accommodate slurp out, then instantly thrust it back up again, all the way between her smooth, shapely thighs until its bulbous purple tip rode up her midriff as far as her navel and her wet pussy and twitching clitoris straddled its girthsome base.
Roger continued to juggle Uschi’s breasts in his hands as he start to cum, an almost uninterrupted geyser of white fluid erupting with force and speed up the length of Uschi’s torso, up through her quivering, open cleavage, and onto her lips and chin.
Uschi laughed in delight at the sight of this unstoppable tribute to her sexiness in the restroom mirror before them, then her expression changed in a flash, and she started wriggling her clit against the thick, rigid trunk of cock astride which she sat, a woman possessed. ‘Oh mein Gott,’ she wailed. ‘Oh ja, ja, ja, fick mich, Roger, fick mich. Weiter so mit meinen Titten, ja, ja, ich komme, ich kommmmme!’
Roger’s German was rusty, but he got the general idea. As he continued to pulsate the contents of his overloaded nuts all over Uschi’s stomach and tits, he felt the cock-craving sex bomb’s juices cascade down his hairy thighs as she writhed and gyrated her clit to orgasm, her buttocks squirming cosily against Roger’s waist.
Spent, Roger’s dick started to shrivel and recede back down Uschi’s cum-splattered front and came to rest on the cold hard edge of the porcelain basin. ‘Jesus,’ he gasped. ‘I needed that.’
Uschi span to face him, long, lustrous dark curls flying, that animal glint still in her eyes. Her chest was heaving, her throat hot and blushing, her thickly be-jizzed areolae even more engorged than usual, her nipples at their summits even on the rare brink of becoming erect. ‘Suck my nipples, Roger! I beg you!’
Again, Roger would never have contemplated tasting his own semen voluntarily. The frequent past incidents aside where he had solo-ejaculated so forcefully in bed that he had cum in his own face, this would be a first, but he could hardly be picky when presented with so eminently suckable a pair of 1970’s pin-up puffies. And in any case his rational mind was still subject to the horny whims of his sex drive. Grabbing both heavy, luxurious breasts in trembling hands, he flicked his tongue from nipple to nipple, ignoring the odd, gelatinous saline coating with which he had just anointed them.
A shudder went up Uschi’s spine at the teasing sensation. If her nipples were largely resistant to stimulation the rest of the time, they were certainly more than susceptible to it in the wake of orgasm.
Roger took her left areola in his mouth in its entirety and suckled it gently, running his hot tongue over and around it, continuing to caress both big breasts with his palms and digits as he did so.
‘Mmmmmm,’ hummed Uschi as she gave herself over to Roger’s oral attentions, letting him tease out the last throes of delicious pleasure that tingled within her boobs. She stroked the hair on the back of his head as though he were a cat with one hand, and clutched the edge of the sink with the other. ‘Roger you do that so well. If only other men took tits as seriously as you do!’
Roger’s digital wristwatch beeped quietly. He released Uschi’s salty, slimy areola from his mouth with a plop, strands his own semen mixed with saliva stretching across from his lips. ‘That’s our ten minutes up,’ he said, wiping his chin. ‘We’d better get back.’
The two gave their bodies a hasty and rudimentary wash in the gents’ washroom sink, and dressed in a hurry.
Roger left first and took his seat. ‘Not sure where Uschi has got to,’ he said as casually as he could to Louise, Sophie, and Jemima, who were already milling about the conference room idly consulting their mobile phones.
‘In the loo, maybe?’ said Sophie.
‘Maybe,’ said Roger, hoping the secret of their lavatory-set encounters was still safe.
Uschi breezed in, looking immaculate, and in no way like she had just been sprayed from stomach to chin with semen. In fact, she was more fully clothed post-sex than she had been before, though her bra was still draped over the back of the chair and the bralessness of her proud, wobbling breasts was more than evident through her thin blouse. ‘Let’s get back to it, shall we? Do we have everyone?’
‘Everyone except Imogen,’ sai
d Roger.
The girls exchanged awkward glances.
Louise spoke up. ‘I don’t think Imogen will be coming.’
‘What?’ Uschi looked up from her notes with concern. ‘These sessions are mandatory for the team, are they not?’
‘She went to Nina,’ said Louise. ‘To complain.’
‘Thank-you both for seeing me,’ said Nina, pouring the coffee. ‘And sorry for putting your training on hold, Uschi. At least for now.’
‘I’m sure we can clear this up very quickly,’ said Uschi with a smile.
Roger felt like he might faint or throw up, a sensation that did not blend well with the constant arousal he underwent in the company of either of these women, now compounded by finding himself alone with both of them in extremely strenuous circumstances. Had their scheme been rumbled? He had warned Uschi about this! She had taken things too far too quickly, and now the game was up!
Nina handed Roger a coffee cup, leaning towards him where he sat and affording him a close-quarters vista of her cleavage down her starched pinstripe blouse. Her solid tits looked like they weighed a ton. It had been less than an hour since Roger had shot his load up Uschi’s front from behind but he could feel his boner stirring and swelling again already, as if the fear for his job wasn’t draining enough colour from his face already.
‘So,’ said Nina, perching her tight-skirted hourglass bottom on the edge of her desk and stirring sugar into her own coffee. ‘You’ll be aware that one of the girls came to see me just now with some… concerns about the way the training has been going.’
Both Uschi and Roger began to stammer their explanations, but Nina raised a hand to cut them off.
‘Now now, I don’t think this is much to worry about.’ Nina smiled. ‘She described what had happened, and frankly I don’t see what her problem is. We’re all girls here, and Roger doesn’t really count. No offence, Roger!’
Far from taking offence, Roger breathed an inward sigh of relief that he was still enjoying the sexual neutrality that kept him off the pervert radar, at least as far as Nina was concerned. He gave a small reassuring smile.