Practically crippled with anticipation and anxiety, emotionally torn between preventing or encouraging a titfight on a very public beach on a very family day, I staggered after my fearless bride. But Kate and Buddy had vanished..
Angie and I arrived at the scene of where the confrontation took place to find all our friends talking at once. “Where are Kate and Buddy,” I yelled above the din.
“Where is that bitch?” hollered Angie to no one and everyone.
For the next several hours, our entire clan spoke of nothing but the amazing and fascinating events that transpired before Kate and Buddy made their flaming exit. The consensus was that the argument between Kate and Buddy had escalated to the shouting, pushing stage. Kate had been relentlessly determined to confront Angie and “kick her ass” here and now. Buddy strongly objected to such a “primitive and uncivilized display in front of everybody” to the point where he finally physically carried her off to their car parked several hundred yards away. Everyone could not get over how “wild” Kate was behaving. The conversations about it all were fast and furious and went on ad infinitum.
Our women friends promptly gathered around Angie for all the gossipy details. Had Angie seen that Katie bitch flaunt her nudeness in front of Peter (me)? What had given Katie the idea that she could get away with such brazen behavior? What had happened between Kate and Angie to start the chicken fight in the ocean? Wasn’t Katie actually rubbing her tits in Peter’s face at one point? Had Katie breast-butted Angie first or had Angie been the aggressor? Generally the women seemed to rally around Angie – most of them had been friends since college – a couple since high school. We were a pretty tight-knit group and Katie was the newcomer, a.k.a., outsider.
Several of the women took the high road, sniping about Katie’s “slutty antics,” tsk-tsking Katie’s “streetwalker persona,” casting down negative comments about Katie’s general appearance and behavior (cheap, shameless, classless) and pretty much verbally tore Katie apart. It was clear that these B and C cup girls were jealous. The gals were split as to Angie’s next move: “Kick her ass,” or “Ignore her.”
The men had a very different take on the subject. My best friend, Danny, summed it up. “Jesus, Pete, those are the two best sets of tits I have every seen. You are a lucky dog, bro!” Until the Fourth of July 2002, none of us had seen the breasts of each others’ wives. In one brief encounter, the boys had seen the best breasts in the clan, nude – up close and personal. It was, as they say, a red letter, fucking day.
Danny (and perhaps a couple of the other guys) know about my obsession with bountiful breasts. “Whose breasts were bigger and better, Pete: Angie’s or Katie’s? You were close enough to suck them. Who won?”
“No comment, mate,” I whispered. “They are both beautiful, buxom women. Katie seemed to be coming on to me, but I think it was just to make Angie jealous. It was getting pretty competitive out there during the Frisbee game. I think Kate was tweaking Angie.”
The men wanted a blow by blow from me. They (we) were all obviously stimulated by the exposed breasts and physical confrontation. I resisted blabbing on and on about Katie’s great rack, well aware that my words would be taken straight back to the girls and, eventually, Angie.
Everyone present, women and men, thought Angie slapping Katie was courageous (ballsy) and appropriate. And while all the men were practically drooling over both women’s big, naked breasts, most found themselves highly intrigued with the size of Katie’s areolas. While breast size, shape and firmness, as well as nipple size, shape, and stiffness are my big turn-ons, the male side of our group had been transfixed by Katie’s areolas. Different strokes for different folks, as they say.
Of course, everyone wanted to know if Angie intended to confront Kate again. “She came on to your man and wagged her tits in his face. You cannot let that bitch think she can get away with it,” this being Barbara’s (full C cups set high on her chest) slant on things.
“Don’t you bend to her level, deary. You already called her on the slutty behavior and you slapped her face for it. You won. Leave it alone, now. None of us will welcome that husband chaser into our homes again,” this from Bobby-Jo (full C cups not as high as Barbara’s, but rounder). Listening to there contrary opinions, I began fantasizing about a titfight between Barbara and Bobby-Jo. My money would be on Bobby-Jo. My fetish is rampant – everywhere – ubiquitous. Carumba, I love the female bosom.
The beach party lasted later than usual, but the day had been far more extraordinary than usual. In the end, we all went home a little too drunk with hours of sexual innuendos on our minds. I’ll bet there wasn’t a quiet bed in the clan that night. Angie and I made love non-stop until dawn. We weren’t quiet for a moment. We were either groaning or talking – recapitulating the events of the day and storytelling about the events to come. I had one of those nights when no matter how many times I came, my Standing Hampton continued to stand. And Angie had screaming orgasms again and again, the threshold usually coming as I pronounced my bosomy Angie the winner over her breast-beaten foe, Katie. If nothing in the way of a breast-to- breast confrontation ever came my way again, I felt this one beach experience had provided me with enough to refill the fantasy pool for a lifetime. But something grander, beyond my wildest fantasies was bearing down upon us even as we fucked about breasts beating breasts.
At work the next day, I couldn’t keep my mind off Angie titfighting Katie. I couldn’t keep my eyes off women’s bustlines nor my mind from Angie and Katie squaring off for the ultimate duel. After an entire night of passionate intercourse, I kept finding myself in the men’s room, reliving the beach confrontation or taking it to the next level. By lunchtime, I had accomplished nothing but another three ejaculations.
I had decided to rush home to Angie for “a quickie” and was just leaving the office building, when I walked right into Katie. She looked up into my eyes and smiled. I looked down onto her four inch cleavage and smiled. “Katie, my darling, you look ravishing.” I was flirting with the first words out of my mouth. I lusted for her. I loved her. I was mad for her.
“You are a sexual god, Pedro.” Katie reached up and grabbed behind my neck, pulling me down to her mango-flavoured lips, and I melted into her face, behind her eyes, melding with her feminine sexuality. It was if we were alone in the universe, nude, ready to couple for the first occasion in cosmic history. I felt the fullness of her glorious breasts, the heat of her expanding nipples, the moisture of her throbbing vulva, yet nothing had touched but our lips. A feeling of vertigo nearly overwhelmed me, then I found my balance and stopped devouring her mouth.
“I can resist anything but temptation,” was the best I could muster. “You are irresistibly tempting, Katie.”
“Same back at you, big guy. How long is your penis?” Katie purred with nary a moment of discomfort.
“Eight and a half inches. What size is your bra?” It just came out, no muss, no fuss.
“34DD, bulging. When you’re inside me, you will be with a virgin for the last 2 ½ inches“. Katie’s directness was as intoxicating as was her heavily heaving bosom. “I want you like I have never wanted anyone or anything in my life. Let’s go fuck till we die.”
“And my husband? I have never wanted him like I want you, but we fucked all night because I couldn’t have you. And you fucked your wife all night because you couldn’t have me. Admit it so we can get down to pleasure.” Katie was pleading, just slightly. I understood her desperation.
“We talked about you, Katie, all night long. It was the best sex we ever had.” I was spilling the proverbial beans.
“Now that is fascinating. She wants me, too? I would have thought she wanted to rip me to pieces. I certainly was ready to tear your bride a new asshole and hand it to you as part of our prenuptial agreement.” Katie was smiling a most lascivious smile.
“We were fantasizing about the two of you, my wife and you, in a breast fight. Angie was verbalizing a scenario where she was practically beating you to death with her breasts. I found it thrilling. I believe breasts are the most sexual and profound organ of female sexuality. More than anything else physical, breasts separate women from women – distinguish the physical, sexual presentation of a woman from other women. Nothing sexual is on constant display like women’s breasts – clearly exhibited in every outfit at every moment. Women build entire wardrobes around enhancing their breasts. They pad them, they stuff them with plastic, they expose décolletage, they buy exotic paraphernalia to lift them, plump them, firm them, and create the illusion of large, stiff nipples. I have been thinking about, lusting after, making passionate love to women’s breasts, real and imagined, since puberty. I am, beyond anyone you have ever known, a breast man to the core. At the beach party, your breasts were the first breasts that had ever rivalled my wife’s breasts. I was swept away by the confrontation – the comparison of these most feminine of female physical assets. It was the most exciting event of my life.”
Katie never missed a beat. “I want you to worship my breasts, Pedro. I want you to devour them with that amazing tongue of yours. I want you to fuck them. I want your shaft sliding between them, back and forth until ecstasy. I want you to feel my nipples grow against the tip of your penis – feel and watch my blood engorge them while your blood engorges your throbbing cock. I want you to smother my breast flesh, my swelling areolas, my throbbing nipples with your kisses while you are deep inside me – deeper than anyone has or will ever be. I want you to see my breasts beside other busty women – to measure me against them – to know your woman has the best breasts – the biggest, the fullest, the shapeliest, the largest areolas, the longest, stiffest, thickest nipples – all of me, all of my breasts will be for your pleasure – for pleasing your lust, your passion for bountiful bosoms. My breasts alone can and will completely fulfil your sexual needs for the rest of your life. So let it be written, my darling, so let it be done. I have never been sure of love before. The moment I saw you, I knew. You are for me, forever. I love you.”
I agree!!! Nothing against the other writers out there, but this is the one I am watching more than any other, and its maddening that I have to wait so long between installations! Each time I've been terrified that he's just going to leave it off, and not continue. Please sir.. for our sanity... keep it going!