I reached for the alarm clock in the darkness. When I hit what I thought was the snooze button, the radio came on full blast. A moment of sleepy haze, and suddenly I was aware that I wasn't hearing the alarm clock at all. That was the buzzer to my apartment! Who'd be visiting at this hour?
When I got the clock radio in focus, I saw that it was 8:30 on Saturday morning. I struggled out of the hide-a-bed I used in my studio apartment and walked naked to the 'talkback' box on the buzzer.
"Yeah? Who is it?"
"It's Stephanie! Who were you expecting?" came a crackling feminine voice.
What was my girlfriend doing here so early on a Saturday? Thank Christ I hadn't picked up another woman last night or I'd be in deep shit right now. "Gimme a second, Steph! I'm naked," I hollered into the gadget.
"That sounds good to me!" she replied. Wise-ass, I thought, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater. As soon as I was decent, I buzzed her in.
Stephanie bustled in, dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase and a suitcase. "I'm leaving. On a business trip. I wanted to let you know."
I blinked. "Weren't we going out tonight?" I asked.
"Yes. I feel bad, and that's why I came to tell you," she continued, opening her briefcase and fishing out a gift package. "This is for you."
I was surprised. I didn't figure this occasion warranted a gift, but I wasn't about to argue. "Thanks, Steph."
"It's something to remember me by until I get back." She leaned over to kiss me, and then she whispered in my ear.
"Hey."
"What?" I whispered back.
"Don't let the underwires stab you in the balls."
With a smile, she was off.
I forgot to tell you a little bit about Stephanie. How we met. How much we have in common. How well-suited we are to each other. I didn't tell you any of that because it would be bullshit. None of it is true. We don't get along in many ways. We argue. We don't like the same things. There's only one thing that keeps us together.
Two things, actually.
Her right tit and her left.
Stephanie was a shapely brunette with two of the most massive fun bags I've seen in years of being a tit man. She's got 'em, and she knows it, and she uses 'em to keep me around. And fuck — I let her. There's nothing I like better than sucking them hard enough to make her think I'm trying to draw milk. Nibbling on her nipples as if they were Wrigley Spearmint. Jamming my face between them and waggling my head from side to side, cut off from civilization. And dropping my rock-hard prick between them and sawing away until I spew.
And she's OK with that. So she puts up with my lack of ambition, and I put up with her jealous nature. Oh, yeah. She hates me scoping other girls. It makes it tough because all of her girlfriends have knockers like hers. Have you ever noticed that? Even in high school. There's the Big Cans Clique over here, and the Itty Bitty Titty Committee over there. Girls always seeem to hang out with girls with the same size boobs. But that means I can't even talk to any of Stephanie's friends without her thinking I'm boffing them. So I'm careful. When I stray, I stray far away from her peer group. Not that I go after girls with small tits — I'm incapable of that. Huge and heavy makes me hard, so that's what I go after. I just have do it carefully. Discreetly, you know?
I looked down at the package. I unwrapped the tissue paper. It was a big black silky underwire bra. I smiled. I know what she meant. She wanted me to jerk off into that bra instead of going out in search of new big tit. Well, hell, I'll try anything once.
I looked closer... and I smelled closer. Smart. She didn't give me a new bra... this was an old one, so it reeked of Stephanie. Her perfume... her sweat... even her juices. I was starting to get excited already. I peeked at the tag. I knew Stephanie's size — but I had to look.
34EEE/G
That did it. My jeans were on the floor and the big black cups were draped over my manhood. I hunched into thin air with the cups covering my mast a few times. Then I set sail! I grabbed a handful of black silk in my fist and started sliding my bra-clad fist over my member. She was right; I did have to watch those underwires.
It didn't take long. The scent of Stephanie... the thought of those two huge doughy breasts molding themselves around my hard cock... and the ever-so-gentle friction of Steph's bra meant an enthusiastic gush in less than a few minutes. I pulled the bra away to watch the sticky liquid pour into the cup, then hurriedly stashed the bra in a closet. I decided to get on with my Saturday.
Well, it wasn't to be. Everything I looked at made me think of tits. Big tits. I mean, I didn't even have to get to any of the cliches... basketballs in the sporting goods store, watermelons at the supermarket. Anything vaguely orb shaped put mammaries on my mind. Eggs, anthills... even fluorescent orange traffic cones. And all that just made my balls ache because I knew I wouldn't be seeing Stephanie that night. As evening fell, I decided I would do my best to follow Stephanie's plan again. I'd resist the temptation to go prowling for new big tit. I just headed home and went back to that closet.
I reached for the shelf where I'd stashed Steph's big bra. It was so soft and gentle to my touch. I couldn't help but read the tag again.
34EEE/G
Once more, I was off to the races. Off came my jeans and sweater, and in an instant, bra cup number two surrounded my hardness. I set a land speed record for coming... and I think I was in the running for quantity, too. Now both cups were sticky and stained with my juice.
You'd think that would've taken the edge off.
Well, you'd be wrong. I needed some fresh mam-meat, and I needed it that night. I showered, resisting the tempation to jerk off one more time into the shower stream, and then I got dressed to go out.
At this point, being 'true' to Stephanie was out. But I wanted to show at least a little restraint. Normally, I'd go to the next town over so that whatever top-heavy babe I took home, she wouldn't know Steph. I decided instead to go to the watering hole nearest my apartment. In order to avoid any of Stephanie's friends, I figured I'd go for a more modestly-breasted female. In all the time I'd known Steph, I'd never even seen her so much as speak to any woman with even normal sized tits. Maybe big girls figure they all have that much in common; that's why they pal around together. Anyhow, I decided that even though that wouldn't be my first choice, it was my safest choice.
I took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. The bartender didn't even have to ask me what I was there for — he could tell. Helpfully, he gave me a look whenever any unescorted female came in the door. I had to work to get rid of my usual habit of looking every prospective lay right in the tits! That usually was the first item in the list of possible eliminations. I tried to see faces and, frankly, asses this time. Flaring hips and an ass I can get two hands around can almost make up for no real tits.
Did I say that? What am I, out of my mind?
Notice I said almost. Using this criterion, I soon spotted my prey. She had blonde hair cut in an almost '70s style... a feathery Loni Anderson kind of thing. Her lipstick was much too red, and her makeup was a little too heavy. Her breasts were modest, veering toward the small, even... but she had hips you could set a beer on. Knowing these were her best feature, she wore a midriff-baring red checked top that buttoned to the neck. While her top worked to show off her smooth stomach, her tight white painter's-pants jeans worked just as hard to show that delicious delineation between her hips and waist. The pants hung so low I wondered if she had to take special care to tuck her cunt hair in when she got dressed for the night. Some guys would say she had too big a caboose. Some guys are full of shit.
As soon as the bartender caught my eye to point her out, he greeted her with a wave. Great, they knew each other! Maybe she'd come sit at the bar. She did, and I scooted over.
