Uschi

by Lesley Finch

  When, at one point during the morning, Vanessa traipsed to the ladies’ loos, Uschi stood and loomed over the group of desks, lowering her German-accented voice to a hoarse whisper. ‘It’s not working,’ she said. The girls frowned, mulling the problem.

  ‘Maybe she’s not noticed,’ said Alice.

  ‘I didn’t come to work looking like this for Vanessa not to notice,’ whispered Kathrin, indicating her prominent braless nipples with manicured fingers. ‘The looks I got on the way here! The comments!’

  ‘I had babies ogling mine from prams,’ chimed Selina. ‘They have a sixth sense.’

  Susan stood and thrust forth her own braless bosom, vividly visible through her translucent pink blouse. ‘How do you think I feel? I may as well be completely topless!’

  ‘Ladies,’ said Roger. ‘I think you might have to accept that Uschi’s plan hasn’t worked. Vanessa doesn’t care what you do, or how you dress. All you’re doing is making her feel that how she dresses is normal.’

  Uschi scowled. ‘I refuse to accept that,’ she said. ‘We should keep trying. For the rest of the day, let’s really make her notice how braless we all are. I want to see jiggling and bouncing, erect nipples, boobs bouncing out of tops. She has to understand what a distraction she is.’

  Roger’s heart thumped. His groin wasn’t aching the way it had in the morning. He feared that Uschi’s ramping up of the protest was going to coincide explosively with the return of his reproductive powers.

  Vanessa returned from the toilets, and Uschi stood to go, too. In passing Vanessa, she allowed her own, violet-shrouded bosom to collide bouncily against the Frenchwoman’s thin arm. ‘Oops, sorry,’ said Uschi, then turned to wink at the rest of the office behind Vanessa’s back. Vanessa continued to walk, large-breastedly, back to her desk, still deadpan.

  At one point, Alice stood and yawned theatrically, stretching her arms out and thrusting forth her chest until the top two buttons of her starched blouse popped off, leaving her with a cleavage that stretched almost the entire length of her bust. ‘Ooh, now how did that happen,’ she said loudly. ‘I wish I’d worn a bra today, these knockers are going to be jiggling all over the place!’ But Vanessa didn’t react.

  Susan, attempting her own attention-seeking move, feigned clumsiness by spilling a glass of water over her bosom, rendering her already sheer blouse completely transparent, her dark nipples erecting still further from the cold, the wet material clinging to her every voluptuous curve. ‘Oh my,’ she declared, standing to make sure everyone could see. ‘Look what I’ve done.’ Everyone looked and stared, except Vanessa, who looked and then returned her attention to her screen. ‘I’ve gone and spilt water all over myself.’

  ‘Oh no, Susan,’ said Sarah, joining the charade and looking around for support. ‘Now we can all see your nipples!’

  ‘Are you not wearing a bra, Susan?’ said Alice, acting badly.

  ‘No,’ shrugged Susan. ‘I’m sorry, Roger, this must be a terrible distraction for you.’

  ‘Quite alright,’ said Roger. The sight of Susan’s nipples through her blouse transported him to the brief moment of drunken titplay he had enjoyed in her apartment. ‘These things happen.’

  ‘Thanks, Roger,’ said Susan. ‘So you won’t mind if I take this off and hang it up to dry?’ Without waiting for a reply, Susan unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall from her shoulders, letting her large, bare, dripping wet breasts wobble free, her dark nipples returning the gaze of everyone in the room. Now completely topless, she crossed the room to the hat-stand by the lockers and hung the wet blouse on a coat hanger. Her bosom swayed and quivered ponderously as she walked. Vanessa glanced up, probably more out of nosiness than anything else. Unimpressed, she returned to her work like she had seen it all before.

  Sarah complained of the heat and changed her top in front of everyone, blushing and apologising for exposing her pink-nippled breasts to everyone in the process, as she had “forgotten” to wear a bra. Selina made a show of preparing for breastfeeding by pulling the neckline of her top down and hefting forth a heavy, milk-swollen breast. Kathrin attempted to swat an imaginary fly with a magazine, chasing the fictitious insect around the office with outrageous bust-bouncing enthusiasm. But nothing the girls could do elicited the intended reaction of shock, disgust, and self-awareness from Vanessa.

  Vanessa went home early, as she had got in early, and sauntered out of the office without saying goodbye.

  Susan retrieved her now dry shirt and put it back on, buttoning it despondently over her heaving bare bosom. ‘Well, that was a waste of time,’ she huffed. ‘At least you got a good show out of it, Roger.’

  ‘I can assure you I didn’t enjoy a single minute of it,’ lied Roger, whose cock was now very erect indeed inside his trousers. The novelty of Susan’s toplessness had indeed worn off, as Uschi had predicted, but that didn’t stop him from now speculating as to what a titwank might feel like from the well-endowed Canadian. His urges were becoming more base, more visceral.

  ‘Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson then,’ said Uschi. ‘After all, the point of this wasn’t just to put pressure on Vanessa, but to put pressure on you, too. Imagine if we all did this every day.’

  ‘I don’t want to do this every day,’ said Alice, massaging her breasts with a frown. ‘It sounds like a good idea when you think about it, but my boobs hurt from all the bouncing. I’m too busty to go braless. I don’t know how Vanessa copes.’

  Roger stood, forgetting about his boner which hit the edge of the desk loudly and painfully. Kathrin glanced down at it, then quickly looked back up. ‘Look, I take your point, everyone,’ Roger said, hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. ‘You don’t need to go to all these lengths. I’ll deal with Vanessa, I promise.’

  Back at home, Roger lay on the bed and carefully extracted his dick, which had recovered from the weekend’s excesses and was now throbbing in anticipation of release while Roger tried to make sense of the confusing sexual feelings in his mind. Where once he would have a regular dripfeed of discreetly suggestive busty entertainment, he was now so bombarded with stimuli catering directly to his fetish that he wasn’t even sure why he was getting turned on any more. His fantasies had dwelt for years on the slow tease of a clothed bosom, but now his mind was filled with altogether more explicit desires, scenarios of titwanking and full penetrative intercourse with his own co-workers. Perhaps this had been part of Uschi’s plan too, and perhaps it hadn’t, and though either way it made him feel uncomfortable with himself, this didn’t seem to help get rid of his erection. He was still going to need release, and was contemplating an evening meditating upon the bosom of Vanessa, assisted if necessary by the hand he used so rarely for masturbatory purposes, when the doorbell rang. It was Uschi.

  ‘Uschi, really, not tonight…’ Roger began, as Uschi swept past him, still braless beneath that gorgeous violet wraparound number, her full breasts animated with minds of their own.

  ‘How did you cope today?’ Uschi asked. ‘I noticed the boner at the end of the day… and I see you still have it.’

  ‘I was just going to have a wank and go to bed,’ said Roger.

  ‘You must have wanted to cum so many times today,’ grinned Uschi. ‘Can you believe Susan spending the whole afternoon topless? Those big titties all nude before your eyes? And Selina sitting there for ages with one boob out. And how about those big bouncy jugs of Kathrin’s? They’re your favourite, I know.’ She winked fruitily.

  ‘I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Your weekend plan worked. And I even got used to Susan’s breasts being naked. So you’re right, Uschi. You’re right.’

  ‘But you still need to cum, don’t you? And all that’s left to feed that filthy imagination of yours is Vanessa’s tits. Am I right?’

  Roger sighed. ‘Yes, I was just about to make myself cum thinking about them.’ There was no point lying to Uschi any more.

  Uschi sat down and crossed her fine legs, hands commanding on the armrests. ‘I ha
ve an idea how we can get you that final bra size,’ she said. ‘The company clothing policy. Vanessa signed an employment contract, and she will have agreed to a dress code.’

  ‘There’s nothing in the dress code specifically about wearing a bra,’ said Roger, pacing the living room wearily, his erection prodding hugely at his trousers. ‘That’s why everyone sat through those clothing guidelines on Women’s Day, don’t you remember? If it were a rule they wouldn’t have to give all that advice, it would simply be enforced.’

  ‘How do you know it’s not in the contract?’

  ‘Because… I’d remember. I’m a manager, I’ve had HR training.’

  ‘I didn’t read my employment contract that thoroughly,’ said Uschi. ‘And even if I did, it was years ago, I’d never remember it now.’

  ‘What are you getting at,’ said Roger, sensing a scheme.

  ‘How about this,’ said Uschi, leaning forward, cleavage bulging in a way that added another fraction of an inch to Roger’s boner. ‘What if it were contractually agreed that any employee with breasts larger than, say, a D-cup, has to wear a bra in the office. And that to avoid dismissal, you have to prove your breasts are smaller than that.’

  ‘So, Vanessa would simply just start coming in wearing a bra. I don’t see how that helps.’

  ‘She doesn’t own a bra, Roger, we both know that. And you just have to explain that the breast size needs to be affirmed by a director of the company, or something, and then you take her into a private room and measure her yourself!’

  ‘I’ve never heard anything so unethical in all my life!’ said Roger.

  ‘But I saw your cock twitch as I said it,’ said Uschi. ‘Admit it, you want to do this. Just think of Vanessa’s tits. Getting your hands all over them. Seeing those nipples for the first time. Finally finishing your bra spreadsheet.’

  ‘I don’t want to finish the bra spreadsheet!’ shouted Roger. ‘I need it! It’s the only thing stopping me from… from turning into some kind of sex monster!’

  Uschi cackled. ‘So it’s a yes. Come on, let’s draft this thing.’

  ‘Can I have a titfuck first, please,’ Roger asked pathetically.

  ‘Oh no no no,’ Uschi wagged a finger. ‘I need you horny enough to go along with this.’

  And so the two sat up for a few hours at Roger’s laptop with an editable pro forma employment contract, adding new paragraphs which went into great fictional detail on the company’s contractually enforced policy on wearing a bra on the company premises. When Uschi finally left to go home, Roger felt he had crossed a dangerous threshold into sackable territory.

  But he still craved Vanessa’s tits.

  ‘What ze fuck,’ said Vanessa, alone in the quiet meeting room with Roger the next morning. He had summoned her first thing, and placed the cleverly counterfeited version of her signed employment contract on the table for her to read. He and Uschi had got in early and photocopied it multiple times to give it that aged look, and had forged Vanessa’s signature. Roger hated himself for still being such a slave to his breast fetish, and to Uschi.

  ‘You may not remember, Vanessa,’ said Roger, ‘Or perhaps you didn’t read it carefully enough, but your contract does say that any female employee with D-cup or above breasts has to wear a bra or face dismissal. I’m sorry to break it to you like this, but HR are coming down hard on this policy at the moment, and if you don’t go along with it then I’m afraid I’m going to have to speak to them. You’ve had several warnings from me about this in the past, verbal and written.’

  ‘You cannot prove I am bigger zan a D-cup,’ Vanessa spat, tossing her long straight brown hair back in defiance, her braless bosom careening beneath the tight green vest top she had chosen to wear that day. ‘I simply deny it. I am a 32C, or whatever.’

  ‘I’m afraid the burden of proof is upon you, Vanessa,’ Roger said, pointing to the relevant fake paragraph in the document. ‘It says here that in the absence of evidence, your manager has to take the measurements.’

  ‘You?’ Vanessa gave an empty laugh. ‘You gonna feel me up like you did Selina?’

  ‘If I have to,’ said Roger. ‘I’m sorry, it’s company policy.’

  Vanessa went silent, thinking this over. There seemed to be no way out.

  ‘I take my chances,’ she said. ‘Maybe my tits are not as big as zey look. Go ahead.’

  ‘Great,’ said Roger. ‘Now, we’ll need a female chaperone, obviously.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘This is both for compliance reasons, but also, as you’ll see, there’s a line in the contract stating that a male manager carrying out the measurements is entitled to relief in the event of overarousal.’

  Vanessa’s face contorted in disbelief, but Roger pointed to the contract, and there it was in carefully forged black and white. ‘Zis place is crazy,’ she murmured, as she read. ‘And you are worried my tits, zey will arouse you?’

  ‘Who knows,’ shrugged Roger, and pulled a tape measure from his jacket pocket. ‘Anyway, let me get one of the girls in to oversee. How about Uschi?’

  ‘I don’t care,’ said Vanessa, and kicked about the meeting room while Roger went to fetch his German co-conspirator.

  ‘Uschi,’ he called out into the office, ‘A moment of your time, please.’ Uschi skipped happily into the room and Roger closed the door again on the threesome.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, Uschi,’ said Roger, while Uschi acted the part of the uninitiated. ‘But I need to measure Vanessa’s bust to ensure it is compliant with the company dress policy, and we need a chaperone. Would you mind sitting in on this now?’

  ‘Happy to help,’ said Uschi.

  Roger continued. ‘And one more thing, rather delicate matter this. Seeing as the prolonged exposure to Vanessa’s naked breasts may put me in a… rather compromising position, do you mind assisting with manual relief as necessary?’

  Uschi laughed kindly. ‘Of course I don’t mind, Roger, we’ve known each other a long time. And of course it’s nothing I’ve not seen before, not after our visit to the sauna!’

  Roger laughed along. Vanessa looked at them both as though they were stark raving mad.

  ‘This shouldn’t take long,’ said Roger, thinking mainly of how quickly he was likely to cum. ‘Uschi, if you could get my penis out of my trousers please, and Vanessa kindly remove your top.’

  Vanessa rolled her eyes and complied, grabbing the hem of her top and peeling it up, up, up over her head. As though in slow motion, her ample French breasts wobbled free, jiggling wildly while she wrestled her long hair through the green top. Each bountiful globe was the size and approximate shape of a watermelon, lightly tanned from the weekend spell in the continental sun, and each graced with wide, pale areolae and soft pink nipples at their centres, pointing directly forward at each boob’s swelling summit. Without the green top to hold them together they spread out pleasantly, but not so far as to separate the tight cleavage between them, which remained deep, narrow, and seemingly impenetrable, although as Roger’s mind filled with fantasies, he knew that his cock would slice into it like a knife through butter.

  She put her hands on her slim hips, the huge, soft twin blimps of her bosom swaying in silence. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘What are you waiting for?’

  Roger couldn’t believe how easy this had been. Uschi had come up with the goods once again, and although this was certainly a first step on the road to disciplinary action for Roger, in this particular moment it felt entirely worth it. Vanessa’s breasts were nothing short of miraculous. Even Uschi was awestruck, hesitating briefly in her fumblings with Roger’s belt and trousers.

  Out sprang Roger’s erection, thick and veined, the perfect oversized match for Vanessa’s oversized bare breasts. Vanessa’s jaw dropped. ‘You were right, Uschi,’ she managed to say after gaping at Roger’s surprising endowment. ‘It is ‘uge!’

  ‘Sorry Roger,’ said Uschi. ‘Kathrin and I told everyone about your dick after the Frankfurt trip.’

/>   Vanessa seemed very different now. Her Gallic indifference was giving way to a kind of nervous excitement. She couldn’t take her eyes off Roger’s stiff, distended cock any more than he could take his eyes off her heaving melon breasts.

  Uschi placed a soothing hand on that throbbing, glistening shaft. ‘Roger, judging by how hard your cock is, are we to assume that you require your contractual relief entitlement?’

  ‘My tits did zis?’ said Vanessa, in what seemed like genuine surprise.

  ‘Perhaps in France breasts like yours are commonplace,’ said Roger. ‘But here… here they just make men want to cum and cum.’

  ‘Show me,’ said Vanessa. She bit her lip and watched the tip of Roger’s erection, its throbbing helmet the size and colour of a ripe plum. ‘French men, zey prefer ze small titties. I ‘ave never experienced zis English fetish. It is… interesting.’

  Uschi was about to begin stroking Roger’s cock when a brief musical motif rang out. ‘Oops, my mobile,’ she said, letting go of the desperate member to retrieve the phone from her pocket. ‘I have to get this. Vanessa, would you mind taking over?’ Uschi stood and walked to the opposite corner of the room, talking quietly into her phone.

  Vanessa rubbed her hands together, squashing and wobbling her enormous jugs with her arms as she did so. Roger’s heart thumped fast as the skinny French tit-queen descended to her knees in front of him.

  ‘Use your tits,’ Roger heard himself say. ‘Rub it with your tits.’

  ‘Like zis?’ Vanessa took her heavy breasts in her small, bony hands, her fingers disappearing into heavenly, pillowy indentations in the soft flesh. Prising them apart, she approached until Roger’s erection was almost touching her breastbone. Then she sandwiched her tits together again, trapping the hungry dick tight within, the gaping tip of his plum helmet emerging above, his full, heavy balls dangling beneath. ‘I must confess, I ‘ave never done zis before.’