Uschi

by Lesley Finch

  Weekends were no exception. Uschi had taken to calling on Roger on Saturday and Sunday mornings, texting him videos of her breasts bouncing, phoning him to describe sex acts she had enjoyed or ones she herself fantasized about, and would even on occasion show up in person to make sure Roger was getting all that sexual energy out of his system.

  And all the while, the spectre of Vanessa’s enigmatic, huge, sexy breasts loomed over this unorthodox sexual relationship. Uschi had managed to afford Roger access not just to the entire department’s bra sizes but to their bare bosoms and nipples, and if she was going to complete her mission as intended, then Vanessa was going to be no exception. Roger dreaded this stage of the journey. Vanessa’s tits were all his dirty little imagination had left to work with, and to kill that mystery dead would be the nail in the coffin of his contented masturbatory existence. Sure, he’d continue to fetishize big breasts, and he’d been doing a valiant job jerking off to the memories of the breast-baring scenarios which Uschi had so elaborately choreographed over the past weeks, but his whole routine was on the verge of being completely ruined. And what would come next? Would Uschi simply stop campaigning? Would she consider him cured of his obsession? Would he, in fact, be cured?

  Roger looked across the office at Vanessa, standing by the photocopier reading an invoice, idly scratching her shoulder under her top where on any other woman a bra strap would be. Her breasts, so absurdly at odds with her bony frame, ballooned and sloshed about under her cream coloured long-sleeve T-shirt. As usual she was showing no cleavage, but the way the fabric dipped between her swelling orbs more than made up for that. She was, in many respects, very similar to Shelley, the busty model who had so kindly helped him out of his priapic predicament in the green room on International Women’s Day. Same lanky frame, same long, floppy brown hair, same enormous tits. In a depressing way, the resemblance almost made him feel like Vanessa had somehow already been conquered by proxy. But there was still the matter of the nipples. Shelley had had bulbous areolae topped with thick, suckable nipples, but Vanessa, braless as she always was, always showed a relatively smooth profile. There was the occasional swell of a puffy, flattened mound when the air-conditioning got too chilly, but otherwise Vanessa’s breasts seemed as resistant to excitement as Vanessa herself, the cool, sulking, unflappable Parisian. He’d never even see her smile.

  He opened the bra size spreadsheet, once the administrative cornerstone of his lascivious ruminations, now a rather prosaic reminder of how little mystery now lay beneath his female co-workers’ blouses. For old-time’s sake, he typed “30K” in the bra size column next to Vanessa’s name – an educated guess given what he knew of Shelley’s similar vital statistics – and a final, delicious question mark in the “nipples” field.

  The first sign that Uschi was up to something came during the Thursday morning team meeting. It was Bastille Day in France, and Vanessa had taken a couple of days’ leave to go back to Paris for the long weekend, so as the meeting agenda drew to a close and Roger asked for any other business, Uschi took the opportunity to raise an unscheduled point of order in the young Frenchwoman’s absence.

  ‘Something I feel I must bring up, Roger,’ she said, ‘Vanessa and her braless tits.’

  The other girls nodded and murmured their own disapproval.

  ‘Uschi, I’ve talked to her about it numerous times. She’s never worn a bra before and doesn’t intend to start now.’

  ‘But they’re huge!’ exclaimed Sarah with Celtic passion. ‘They’re the biggest knockers I’ve ever seen! I thought I was big up top, and mine aren’t even half the size of hers.’

  The girls laughed.

  ‘And she’s only twenty, God bless her, so she’s lucky enough to have youth on her size holding those things up in the air, but the size they are and the way they bounce, they’ll be round her ankles in five years’ time.’

  Selina chipped in. ‘You gave the presentation yourself, Roger. It’s simply not appropriate to come to work braless when you have boobs that size.’

  ‘I’ve asked her nicely,’ said Roger with a shrug. ‘There isn’t much more I can do except ask nicely again. And I can assure you, her choice of clothing – or lack thereof – is as much a distraction for me as it is for you.’

  ‘I bet it is,’ murmured Susan, deadpan. Roger had the feeling she still hadn’t forgiven him for abandoning her in her apartment, though the subject had never been brought up directly. ‘Maybe you prefer her braless, so you can get a good look at those big round jiggling melons of hers?’

  ‘That’s an absurd suggestion,’ scoffed Roger with an unconvincing laugh.

  Alice fidgeted with her bra straps under her peach blouse. ‘Well I know how Vanessa feels,’ she said. ‘Don’t know about you, but when I get home from work, the first thing I do is whip my bra off and set the girls free. I’d love to just leave the thing at home and come to work braless.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you?’ said Uschi.

  The women all looked at the Bavarian beauty, the penny dropping slowly.

  Uschi continued. ‘Think about it. Until Roger does something about Vanessa’s business attire, I declare an office bra amnesty.’

  Sarah gave a naughty giggle. Smiles spread across Alice and Selina’s faces. Susan and Kathrin exchanged challenging looks.

  ‘But Uschi,’ Roger began. She was going too far now. This would turn him into a walking, permanently cumming erection.

  ‘All in favour say aye,’ said Uschi.

  The decision from the women was unanimous. From Vanessa’s return to work on Monday, it was agreed that all bras would be stashed in handbags upon arrival in the office.

  ‘Would you stay behind, Uschi,’ said Roger as the team stood and left the meeting room. ‘A quick word.’

  Uschi closed the door. ‘Certainly,’ she said, her full lips an innocent pout.

  Roger pushed his chair away from the table and gestured, rather unnecessarily, to the twitching tent in his suit trousers he had been hiding during the meeting.

  ‘Oops,’ said Uschi, her gaze lingering on Roger’s well-appointed groin.

  ‘I’m going to go crazy when you all start coming in with no bras on,’ Roger snapped, more in despair than anger. ‘Look how erect I am just thinking about it.’

  ‘My nipples are pretty erect thinking about how erect you are,’ Uschi replied.

  ‘Saying things like that hardly helps,’ said Roger.

  ‘Oh but it does,’ said Uschi. ‘Anything that gets you closer to a big creamy orgasm means less time spent in the company of a lecherous pervert.’

  ‘You do realise what little sense that makes,’ said the desperately priapic Roger.

  Uschi snapped open her back band of her bra under her blouse and detached the shoulder straps from the cups, then pulled the undergarment away from her body. Her delicious breasts resumed their inviting natural pout beneath the sheer fabric. ‘Have you never heard of the cause being the cure? Think of when we have our ‘flu jabs every year. They’re actually immunising us by giving us the ‘flu. And this is the same. The best cure for an obsession with tits is more tits. Tits everywhere. Tits, tits, tits, tits.’ She let hers shimmy gently under her blouse. ‘We can’t really come to work topless, but we can do the next best thing. Just think of all the downblouse glimpses, the nipple slips. Have you seen the weather forecast for next week? 27 degrees, Roger. We’ll be wearing our flimsiest, lowest cut tops, and the air conditioning in the office… brrr. Our nipples will be hard as diamonds, Roger darling.’

  ‘Uschi I’m just going to cum in my pants, over and over again!’

  ‘And after a few weeks you’ll be so bored you’ll never want to cum over a pair of tits again.’

  ‘I seriously doubt that,’ said Roger.

  ‘Well, then let’s give you your daily ‘flu jab,’ shrugged Uschi, and unbuttoned her blouse with German efficiency. What little of her prodigious endowments remained to the imagination was still nothing short of perfection. ‘Co
ck out, Mr Addington.’

  Roger undid belt and trousers without bothering to stand. He tugged the elastic of his underpants with difficulty past his erection and let the groaning, creaking member shudder upwards, the length of his forearm, veins throbbing, the head a virile scarlet, the eye at its pinnacle gaping and streaming pre-cum.

  Uschi stepped towards Roger and stooped forward until her full, ripe, hanging fruit dangled softly either side of that angry plum-like helmet. She grabbed the base of his shaft in one olive-skinned hand and cradled his bloated testes in the other, then began to shake the towering erection from side to side, using it to slap her bulbous breasts about from deep within her swaying cleavage.

  ‘Christ,’ choked Roger, erupting instantly. His thick white custard pelted Uschi’s bare bosom in violent, grateful spurts. ‘Fucking hell, Uschi. Fuck.’

  ‘What are you doing this weekend?’ asked Uschi calmly, as she coaxed the final few splattering cleavagefuls of seed from Roger’s flailing cock with minimal effort.

  ‘This weekend?’ Roger wheezed. ‘Nothing, obviously. I … fuck!’ A final, painful load squirted forth as Uschi rubbed her thickening, beige nipple over his winking red opening.

  ‘Good,’ said Uschi. She stood up straight again, a thick, gooey curtain of milky jism stretching up to her nude bosom. ‘My boyfriend is away. I’m coming to stay with you until Monday. We need to build up your stamina before the bra amnesty.’

  Roger was too blissed out post-orgasm to deal with Uschi’s demands, and simply nodded.

  Uschi took the train home with Roger on Friday night, though she agreed with Roger that it would be best to leave the office at separate times. The idea that so mismatched a pair of individuals might be having an affair was absurd, but with the increasing number of one-on-one meetings the two were having, sometimes several times a day, it was nonetheless prudent to avoid any further behaviour outside the office likely to set tongues wagging.

  In Roger’s flat, Uschi threw her gym kit onto the settee and stretched her arms, thrusting her voluptuous chest outward to its full extent.

  Roger lifted the bag. It was very light. ‘You don’t seem to have brought much with you,’ he noted. ‘No changes of clothes?’

  ‘Oh Roger,’ purred Uschi with a flash of her dark eyes. ‘You forget why I’m here.’ And with that she performed her well-practised flourish of pulling her bra out from under her top, a tight grey T-shirt. Her breasts wobbled, a seductive reminder as she threw the lace item across the room

  ‘Of course,’ said Roger, eyeing Uschi’s Bavarian bosom with undisguised hunger.

  ‘I’m not going to need clothes this weekend, darling,’ she said in her husky, heavily Germanic tones. ‘I’m here to acclimatise you to the mundanity of the female body.’

  Roger just stared. Here in the privacy of his own home, he didn’t have to limit himself to the occasional discreet glance. He could just stare, stare as much as he wanted. And Uschi was encouraging it. Roger suppressed a devilish chuckle. She thought she was desensitizing him. But the joke was going to be on her. The joke, along with the endlessly refilling contents of Roger’s boob-powered testicles.

  ‘I can see that you’re still very excited by the sight of my lovely braless bosom,’ Uschi observed. ‘But by Monday morning I expect that your urges will have subdued enough to sustain you through a day surrounded by six juicy pairs of unrestrained bouncy titties.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ grunted Roger, drinking in the wobbling sight of Uschi’s large, perfectly-formed breasts beneath the tight grey cotton.

  ‘Go ahead, Roger,’ Uschi said with a crafty smile. ‘Touch them.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. Touch them, squeeze them, jiggle them, suck them, fuck them, cum over them in those big thick ropes of yours. Have your way with them. My big German tits are all yours, Roger, all weekend.’

  Roger let out a juvenile giggle. This was too good to be true. He rubbed her hands and extended then towards the lush paradise before him.

  But Uschi suddenly placed her arm across her chest as a barrier between them, and raised an imperative finger. ‘Three rules, however.’

  ‘What?’ said Roger, impatient to get to work.

  ‘No kissing. My mouth, I mean. We are not lovers, this isn’t a romantic affair. Only my boyfriend kisses me on the mouth.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘You can kiss any other part of my body, however, as much as you like.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Next: no fucking. I must confess I’ve been thinking a lot about how that long, thick cock of yours would feel inside me, but not this weekend.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’ All Roger was interested in was tit-play. He had never been particularly interested in the idea of penetrative intercourse anyway.

  ‘Finally, while, like I say, you may kiss, lick, and suck my tits all you want, you are liable to turn me on. After all, I’m only made of flesh and blood too. So to avoid the temptation for us to break the aforementioned rule number two, if the attention you pay to my bosom arouses me to a point where my nipples stiffen and my pussy moistens, it will be your turn to make me cum.’

  This rule stopped Roger in his tracks. ‘How do I do that?’ he asked, dumbly.

  Uschi laughed, not without tenderness. ‘Oh Roger. You silly innocent man. Why by licking my pussy, of course.’

  Roger had heard of this oral practice before, and the notion had always struck him as peculiar. ‘I can’t guarantee I’ll be any good at it,’ he said, ‘But, whatever it takes.’

  ‘Excellent,’ beamed Uschi, dropping her arm from her bust, letting it sway free again. ‘Now, help yourself.’

  With a moan of pure, unrestrained delight, Roger plunged his fingers into the twin outward manifestations of Uschi’s rampantly sexual femininity. Uschi simply stood there, smiling in endless indulgent patience while her line manager had his gleeful way with her bodacious bosom, kneading and probing it through her top. She pulled the pin from her dark hair, letting the bun collapse around her neck and shoulders in luxuriant waves of mahogany and ebony. Minutes went by while Roger did nothing but test the weight of her breasts through her clothing, letting them wobble lightly up and down on his fingertips, their paradoxical weight versus the placement they boasted so high on her frame an endless source of fascination for the seasoned breast-fiend.

  ‘They’re just tits, Roger,’ Uschi said softly. ‘Just body tissue and fat.’

  ‘Oh Uschi,’ Roger laughed mirthlessly, drunk on tit, ‘That’s where you are entirely wrong. They’re not just tits. They’re so much more than that.’

  Uschi lifted her top up to her neck, hefting her breasts up with it before letting them plunge heavily only to rebound back upwards, jutting and perky, her wide, softly mounded areolae and nipples gazing out at the powerlessly besotted Roger. ‘Just. Tits,’ she repeated. ‘They’re not even that firm. Look how much they jiggle when I shake my shoulders.’ And, knowing exactly what she was doing, she gave Roger a peerless shimmy, her fleshy bared tits jellying gloriously before her.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ croaked Roger. His tongue felt thick and dry with sheer lust, his fingers and toes tingled as blood raced from every extremity to his thirsty reproductive organ. ‘Don’t stop doing that.’ Scrambling out of trousers and underpants, he stumbled backwards and collapsed into the armchair to enjoy this spectacle which Uschi was staging for him. His cock leapt, writhing, swelling and thickening by the second, from his groin, and the first of what promised to be a great many orgasms that weekend coursed through his body culminating in a fountain of stick jism that spurted, unaided save for the considerable visual stimulus of Uschi’s wanton jiggling and come-hither pout, into the air, vast ropes of the stuff flying backward over his head and landing on his own face and chest, stinging his eyes, salting his lips, and staining his shirt. ‘Urrgghh,’ he grunted, overcome in every sense of the word.

  ‘Even my boyfriend doesn’t make my tits feel as sexy as you do, Roger,’
confessed Uschi. ‘That was quite the compliment! Let’s make sure you get it all over my titties in future, though, rather than all over you.

  Roger nodded obediently. This was one rule he certainly had no quarrel with. He wondered if Uschi realised that she was potentially swapping one fetish for another. Now that the mysteries of the team’s bra sizes were nearly all solved, and now that he was enjoying a hands-on sexual (if coldly unromantic) relationship with Uschi which had given him a taste for more visceral pleasures of the flesh, Roger was finding his fantasies turn from benign appreciation of the female form for its own sake to thoughts of stripping, groping, and ejaculating all over his co-workers.

  ‘I’m going to put my top back on now, Roger, to give you some braless entertainment while you recuperate.’

  ‘I’ll call out for a pizza,’ panted Roger.

  For the rest of the evening, Roger took advantage of the full access Uschi had afforded him to her scrumptious, olive-skinned body. He lay her down on the sofa, straddled her and thrust his returning erection into her deep, tight cleavage, slowly fucking it to another messy orgasm over the course of thirty delicious minutes of groping, squeezing, and titfucking. They showered together, Roger putting scrupulous effort into the soaping of Uschi’s breasts, massaging them from behind while his thick semi-erection nestled comfortably between her plump buttocks.

  When, at 2am, Roger’s erectile worship of Uschi’s physique still showed no sign of abating, the two lay in bed engaged in a series of long, slow titwanks that ended as the two unlikely lovers both drifted into a deep sleep, Roger on his back, Uschi sprawled over him, her head on his hairy chest, her soft bosom squashed against his groin, sleepy penis twitching in her cleavage, still very much awake while Roger himself dreamt. And dream he did, graphic, wet scenarios of wanton titfucking involving women he knew and had known in years gone by. He came and came again in his sleep, and by the time daylight caused the two to stir to life once again, Uschi’s breasts were superglued around Roger’s penis with the generous, sticky helpings of cum that had flowed during the night.