Tina was wearing a gold bikini adorned with dollar signs, and dancing to Abba's Money, Money, Money. She removed her top, pushed her right breast up to her chin and licked the nipple, and Harry removed a bill from his wallet without looking at it and held it up. Tina bent down, and clamped her tits around the banknote, brushing those magnificent mountains against his fingers before bouncing away again. Money, money, money, thought Harry. He'd only ever had two problems; tits, and money. He'd thought that, in a pinch, he could live without the money. Unfortunately, his fiancee, Yumiko, had plenty of money, but tiny tits.
Harry sighed as he watched Tina's boobs bouncing and swinging. He'd been a regular at Curved Space for years; he'd painted portraits of many of the girls, and had helped design the club's logo and web page and even some costumes for theme shows. It had been a welcome break from the tedium of working as a commercial artist, a job he would gladly have quit long ago but for his family's financial problems.
He wasn't marrying Yumiko just for her money, or even for her contacts - wealthy friends who might buy his paintings, friends in the movie industry who might get him work as an art director or set designer. She loved him, was interested in his work, enjoyed the same movies and music and food as he did, even rooted for the Minnesota Twins. She was attractive, too, if you liked skinny Japanese girls; her legs were long and lovely, her face beautiful, her ass nice and small, her pussy sweet and tight. And they had great sex; she sucked cock better than any woman Harry had ever known, and he loved to lie back with his eyes shut, feeling her lick pre-cum from the eye of his cock, then kiss her way down his length to his balls, which she would gently suck into her talented mouth before returning her attention to his cock and deep-throating him like the world's most gifted porn star. The only problem was that Harry felt guilty fantasizing that he was actually in bed with a blonde with boobs big as basketballs. The same when they fucked, which worked best when he took her from behind without being distracted by her flat chest. He watched Tina wrap her fantastic funbags around the corner-post of the stage while accountants inserted greenbacks into her already stuffed garters, and sighed again.
"Hi, stranger," a voice purred in his ear. "Want a dance?"
He turned, and saw Brittany, another of his favourite house girls. They'd dated a few times, when his money problems were still bearable. "V.I.P. room's empty," she suggested.
He looked in his wallet, saw that he had just enough cash. Putting lap-dances on his Visa card was a no-no while the bills went to Yumiko. "Sure."
"Great. So, when's the wedding? Next month, isn't it?"
"Do we have to talk about it?"
"No. Coming here for your bachelor party?"
"Don't I wish! I'd never get away with it."
Brittany nodded, and removed her dress as he sat down, revealing a pair of large but firm breasts, aureoles the size of quarters, and little pink nipples which she made larger and harder by pulling on them gently, then running her pierced tongue around them. She straddled him, then braced her hands on his shoulders and lowered herself onto his lap, her breasts swaying in his face like overfilled balloons, the nipples thrusting out enough to put his eyes at risk. Knowing what Harry liked, she cupped her boobs and squeezed them, tweaking her nipples as they poked out between her fingers. Then she stepped back, turned around, bent over to give him a good look at her shapely ass, spanked herself lightly on one cheek, and pulled her g-string awry, giving him a brief glimpse of her pretty little butthole. Then she stepped back again, rubbed her ass over his crotch until she felt his cock stiffen and rise between her warm cheeks, then grabbed his hands and held them to her beautiful boobs. He heard her breath catch in her throat as her nipple burrowed into his palm, and he massaged her mammaries gently, enjoying their weight and their silky smoothness. Brittany let him fondle her for a few seconds, then did another half-turn so that her boobs enveloped his face. She slid her nipples across his lips, then down his chest, kissed him on the cheek, and dropped to her knees before him with her heavy tits gently brushing the tent in his trousers until the song was over.
"Do you know what I think you need?" Brittany said softly, as she stood again. "Some sort of therapy, to get you over this breast obsession you have."
"What do you mean?" Harry had forgotten that Brittany was a psych major; she'd been trying to write her thesis for five years now. "Hypnosis? Shock treatment?"
