tagErotic CouplingsBig Breasts Beach Babe

Big Breasts Beach Babe

bydjeroticon©

Everyone even slightly mentioned in this story is at least eighteen years of age, naturally.

Hello, my name is Allie and I turned twenty-one last week, which I guess means I'm an adult and can talk about pretty much anything I want. I live in suburban Connecticut, drive an Audi, and no longer live with my parents, thank god.

Not that they're a drag or anything, I love them and all, but living on my own means I can get laid without going through all kinds of subterfuge. I know, usually it's guys who say "getting laid", but I've always loved that term, so sorry if you don't like hearing a girl using it. And, yes, I still think of myself as a girl no matter how un-feminist that sounds.

Okay, all that's out of the way. I'm five-foot-four in bare feet, have hazel-brown eyes, a medium complexion, brunette hair down to my shoulders, and am happy to add I possess a body that grabs attention. My legs are fit and trim and seem pretty long considering I'm not tall. I'm proud of my hips and ass, they're shaped just right and look great in shorts and a bikini, and my waist fluctuates between 25 and 24 inches.

But it's my tits that get all the looks, and I don't just mean from men. Technically they're measured at 34, but that's not the cup size. I'm a DDD, you see, and have been for a few years. My breasts just kept growing and growing every year (my mom used to bitch about the cost of buying bras, believe me), and let's just say that by eighteen I could lift them up enough so I could suck my nipples.

Funny, but sucking my own tits doesn't do anything much for me; oh, the crowns get all stiff and tight, but it's only when a guy does it that I get wet. I guess the only true sex organ is your mind.

I get asked if they're natural all the time, even from, say, housewives at the grocery store. I don't get annoyed because I like the attention, and I usually dress to show 'em off. Once a woman who was trying on jeans in a fitting room asked me what doctor did the great job, and she wouldn't believe me that my tits were real until I invited her to give them a feel. Her jaw dropped and her face got red as I undid my bra, but sure enough she felt me up.

Women are free to do stuff like that. Imagine some guy in a locker room asking if a hung specimen of cock nearby was the result of implants, or something...never mind the owner of that dick inviting the other guy to feel for himself! I'm speaking strictly heterosexually, mind you - for all I know that sort of shit goes on all the time in locker rooms.

I haven't had a regular boyfriend since I was eighteen. I just haven't felt like being committed to one guy. I'm having too much fun being free. Last year I went to St. Martin on a cruise. I'm lucky that my job at a financial consulting firm pays well enough to do something like that (including in the case of that island trip, my company footing almost half of the bill through my bonus program.)

I stayed on the French side of the island, which has a lot more vacationers from Europe than Americans (U.S. folks tend to go to the Dutch side). It was cool that on the ship a lot of women sunbathed and walked around the decks topless, with nobody batting an eye. Well, in my case, there was some batting. Even the jaded Europeans were staring, which as I've said before, I enjoy.

The famous nude spot at St. Martin is Orient Beach. You see all kinds of people there, all shapes and sizes and everybody walks around letting it all hang out. If you think it would be tough to do so, believe me you get used to it in about five minutes flat. Even the guy who rented the beach chairs was naked, but he kept this little purse thing strapped on his waist in order to make change. He was short and wiry but pretty cute, and I couldn't help noticing he was uncut. In fact there were a lot of dicks with foreskins flapping on the beach the days I was there.

Anyway, I made sure to walk the beach myself, letting my exhibitionist side get a good workout. People tried to seem like they weren't checking me out, but my bounce is tough to miss. My tits sag just the slightest bit, which I've been told is pretty sexy, and my pink nipples seem to always be sticking out, so even the most polite types were stealing glances.

By the time I got back to my chair I spotted a deeply-tanned gentleman about thirty yards away hoisting up his own chair, a small bag, and a cooler, in preparation to move closer to where I sat. He looked about thirty, trim and reasonably well-built, plus he didn't look drunk or anything so I decided to say yes when he inquired, "Mind if I sit here?"

He had a nice smile and a cute British accent, so I found myself warming up to him pretty quickly as we exchanged small talk about the island, whether it was our first time here, and yadda-yadda such as that.

All the while I couldn't help noticing that he was studious about avoiding any long looks at my chest. For me, I didn't have any qualms about openly checking his body. I was liking it more and more, especially when he turned a little sideways and I could see his semi-tumescent cock lying casually along his thigh. Like I say, he didn't have a full hard-on, but it looked nice and ready. I noticed that he shaved his balls but kept some hair on his lower belly. I keep a little there as well, but the rest of me is pube-free, front and back.

Giles (I think that's a cute name, right?) offered to shake up a batch of margaritas from his cooler, and I began liking him even more; thank god it wasn't beer he had stashed in there. He turned and went about his mixing, giving me a good look at his cute ass in the process. I started right then to make up my mind about where we might be heading.

When he stood with a plastic glass full of an expertly-made drink (he even had lime in there, for crying out loud!) and made his way around to the side of my chair to hand it to me, his prick was practically staring me in the face, dangling nicely. I lowered my sunglasses and pointedly examined him with a wry smile on my face, which broke us both up, so much so that he spilled a little of our drinks on the sand.

"Hey," I remarked, "That looks too good to waste. Watch out." I don't know if he got my double meaning, but he flashed another of his nice smiles.

After we'd had a few sips and sat there together soaking-in the sun and breeze, Giles asked what I did for a living. I started to tell him about the joys of financial consulting and the latest project my team was involved with, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand.

"You're having me on, Allie, you must be," Giles said. "With a figure like that? Go on. You're actually a model, true?"

I looked at him and giggled. "What, a girl can't look good and have a serious job, too?"

"Just saying," he continued, "That there's no justice if somebody with your smashing looks is shut up in some office all day. You mean you've never had any experience posing?" He looked genuinely surprised, or at least was good at faking sincerity.

"Well, nothing professional," I replied (which was true). "There was one impulsive moment with an old boyfriend...." I teased.

"Indeed. Tell me more." Giles had moved his chair closer to mine and was turning toward me again; this time I caught him eyeing my twin globes, just for a moment or two. I didn't have to look down at myself to know my nipples were erect. And, was the head of his handsome dick looking a little plumper?

"I was almost nineteen," I confessed. "We were at a picnic table in a park, it's called Hubbard Park, in Meriden. A little town in Connecticut."

Giles nodded sagely, as if he knew all about the small towns of Connecticut. Anything to keep me talking. I was surprised that I wanted to tell him all about it, really.

"It was the middle of a weekday afternoon, nobody around, sunny day, you know," I continued. "He talked me into opening my blouse. I kept looking around, all nervous, but the only company we had was a trio of Canadian geese, so eventually I had my bra off and Will was snapping away with his shitty little digital camera."

"Did you get turned on?" Yes, his cock was getting a little bigger, it wasn't my imagination.

"Sure. Flattery always does that for me," I frankly replied.

"Lucky guy," Giles said. "What happened to the pictures?"

"For all I know they're on the internet," I joked. "No, not really. I made him erase them."

Giles settled back in his chair and sipped his drink. He didn't say anything for awhile, but I could tell he was very interested. I amused myself by observing folks strolling by and looking at the two of us – we were the best looking couple in the area, to my thinking – and with occasionally eyeing his body. His prick was alluring to me in its not-quite-excited state, and his forearms and thighs looked tight and sinewy; it was my first time at an all-nude beach, so it was a lark to be able to scope out a naked guy close by me and have it all seem normal, like we were just passing the time of day.

Finally he spoke again. "Allie, do you mind if I make a personal observation?"

"Sure," I replied, wondering what was coming.

"Well, the reason I moved my chair over here was simply because I can't resist a beautiful woman with a nice set of Bristols." He looked sharply at me, and I could see him holding his breath, hoping he hadn't crossed the line.

"Bristols? Is that what you Brits like to call 'em?" I wasn't going to let him get so familiar too easily; he'd have to work at it. It was part of the game, of course.

"Among other things," he replied. "It's an old-school term, I know. Charleys, and Big Brown Eyes, those are a couple of real oldies for you."

I laughed. "Big Brown Eyes, huh? I kind of like that one. Good if you're tanned, I suppose. Do you like my tan?"

"Very much. You go to a salon for that, or is there someplace in America you can bare those and not get molested?"

I smiled. "Guilty as charged. Didn't want to come to St. Martin all pale. And I hate bikini lines, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, absolutely abhor them," Giles joked, looking down at my hips this time instead of only my naked breasts. I let my thighs open a little in a casual way, just to see if he'd have a reaction. His eyes lingered over my body for a few moments and then Giles looked into my sunglassed eyes.

"I hope you know what an effort it is for me," he said softly, "to keep my reactions in check. Don't want to make a spectacle out of myself here in public."

"I see. Very gentlemanly of you," I replied. "I hope I haven't made it that...hard for you?"

"Oh, Allie," he sighed, flashing that nice grin again. "You're just one big tease, aren't you. Tell me you're not seeing anyone right now. Or married."

That's the kind of stuff a girl likes to hear. I felt a nice warm glow in my lower belly. It was time to reel this one in, or let him off the hook, or some other fishing allusion that might apply. It would have to be his room, at any rate; mine was an absolute mess.

"No one right now," I replied, feeling the margarita kicking-in. I set the plastic glass down in the sand and gave him a meaningful look. "Shall we put our clothes on?"

"By all means," he agreed, already getting up from his beach chair. His cock dangled again, wonderfully full but not erect as he pulled a pair of shorts out of his bag and stepped into them. I took my time brushing imaginary sand off myself as I donned my bikini bottoms (making sure to face away from him so he could check out my bum as I pulled them up tight), and threw on a waist-length beach cover-up, leaving my bathing suit top in my own bag. Why bother?

I looked at Giles and he looked at me, sharing a moment of anticipation before he took the lead by gesturing toward the parking lot, some distance away. We walked side by side like old friends. I could feel the vee of my bikini rubbing between my legs, which only stimulated me more. His fulsome package was snuggled nicely in the pouch of his shorts and I made no bones about eyeing him. Since my cover-up was just a simple tie-in-front job, Giles was also not trying to hide his admiration, as my ample breast flesh threatened to spill out and over the confines of the soft cotton material.

I followed his rental jeep in my own to his hotel (don't ask me the name, I can barely remember the one I was staying at as I write this!). It seemed to take forever. The next thing I can remember is being alone in the elevator with him, our bags on the floor and our bodies pressed together, our tongues entwined as we kissed deeply, and our hands everywhere you'd expect. It was only a five-story hotel, but by the time we got to the top floor I'd nearly reached orgasm from his expert fondling of my sensitive nipples and the rubbing I was getting from his other practiced hand between my legs, not to mention that great, long kiss.

Of course one of my hands was clutching his taut ass and the other was down the front of his trunks, delighted at the solid heft of his now-stiffened length and the slippery fluid that was oozing already from the tip. I could hardly breathe, I was so excited. The beach smelled great on him, very masculine, accompanied by the faint scent of an expensive cologne around his neck and shoulders.

We paused at his room door to calm ourselves down. Giles grinned lasciviously at me as he inserted the card key, then opened the door and gave me a mock bow, inviting me to precede him. I shook my head and swatted the front of his trunks playfully as I passed into the room.

His place was big enough, and so was the bed, that's all I needed to know about it. We threw our bags somewhere and then latched onto one another again. This time the kissing was fierce, in fact I'd never felt more like devouring a man. Maybe there was something in that margarita? I pulled Giles over to the bed and managed to plop down on the edge of it without falling over.

He knelt on the floor as we mashed our lips together and tongued the inside of each other's mouths. I could taste the tequila we'd both been drinking as he pulled my beach top open and felt my tits with his open palms, his fingers encasing them with worshipful care and venturing over to stimulate my swollen nipples. I had no doubt his fascination with large ones was genuine, the way he felt me up. He was like the fantasy of a sexy doctor giving you a breast exam. He wanted to give me pleasure but his major aim was to indulge his own obsession.

As we continued to kiss he concentrated on using the thumbs and forefingers of each hand to squeeze, prod, encircle and rub the tight flesh of my crinkly tips like a sculptor modeling clay.

It was all him at the moment. The rushes of pleasure put me into a state of inertia. I was barely aware of reaching down to rub the front of his trunks to feebly return his efforts, feeling his balls and cock through the material. His dick stood right up against his belly because of the tightness of the material, and, while he gasped a little with his own pleasure as we broke the kiss, it was clear to me that Giles was in no rush to consummate things.

Immediately after our lips parted he lowered his head to kiss and lick me around the neck and shoulders, his hot breath on my clavicle area being a special stimulant. In another moment his lips had locked on my left nipple and I felt a dart of lust strike me from head to toe as the tip of his tongue prodded eagerly at the most sensitive area of the very end. Coupled with a sort of "strumming" he began with a fingertip on my neighboring pink stiffness, I actually grew a little dizzy from the sensations.

All at once I felt a sort of relaxation flood through me; it was like being in the hands of an expert masseur. This don't-worry sort of bliss told me I should just relax and allow this man to do what he wanted. I didn't have to fuss with reciprocating the pleasures that flowed over me as his learned mouth and tongue swirled from left to right, showering attention on my tits as though they were the last ones he'd ever see; my pleasure was his pleasure, almost self-fulfilling, and just my being there with him was enough...for us both. It would all work out, no need to fret about disappointing him or feeling awkward.

"Lie back, Allie," Giles urged, and he didn't have to say it twice. In my hyper-relaxed state I slumped into the softness of the bed, my head hitting one of the oversized throw-pillows they seem to love in hotels, and allowed him to push my lower body gently back onto it by using his hands on my hips. The bikini bottoms clung to my moistness as he peeled them off me and laboriously worked them down my limp ankles, and then his arms reached up and his experienced hands were all over my breasts again, even as his head darted between my legs.

"Oh, oh....," I breathed as his lips and tongue urged my inner thighs to fully part. For once both my tits and pussy were receiving the attention they craved as he caressed the expanse of my sensitive breasts with his hands and ran his tongue and lips into my crease. I felt my knees rising as if under their own power to allow him greater access to my wet core, and Giles didn't hesitate to aggressively bury his face between my legs. The roughness of his chin delightfully tickled the freshly-shaven area where my ass met the bed as he kissed, sucked and licked at my splayed labia with a pressure that seemed just enough to drive me mad, but not too much (as has been the case with some men before.)

God knows what I was saying to him as he worked my outer and inner lips like he was born to it, never mind the noises I likely made when he locked his lips over the hood of my clit and sucked at it. Again, he used the tip of his tongue, probing at the most sensitive part of my nub, his fingers now rolling my nipples in a most teasing way. I could feel my lower body pushing back at him of its own accord.

My pussy and his mouth were everything that existed. Vaguely I could hear the wet flesh-on-flesh sounds of him sucking and licking at me, and some part of me was aware that my hands had gone to his head to stroke his wavy hair with my fingers.

Giles would bring me to the point of orgasm again and again by alternately teasing my clit, jabbing his tongue between my inner lips to enter my hole, kissing my upper thighs, and then sucking what felt like my entire outer labia and clit hood into his mouth. He knew just when to let up, could sense that I was about to come, and then would maddeningly withdraw for a few moment before plunging-in anew. I struggled to raise my head so that I could look down my writhing body to watch him, and was met by his intent gaze; his expressive eyes were studying the effects his ministrations were having, squeezing my nipples exquisitely now as he continued to eat me.

I raised my knees even more and pushed my bottom toward him, opening myself completely as I felt the need to come building-up within me. Giles seemed to take this as a signal to pay attention to my bum. I'm no prude about that (it's one reason I keep myself clean-shaven back there), but by diverting his tongue from my weeping pussy just at that moment he delayed, yet again, my ultimate pleasure, which had been just about to reach culmination.

I groaned in frustration, which naturally gave Giles the idea that I was in ecstasy at having my ass licked, so he concentrated almost solely there for what seemed like an eternity, rimming and probing with his tongue. I thought I would scream!

And then suddenly Giles pulled away completely and stood to peel off his shorts. I barely had a moment to admire his thick, stiff, dark pink erection before he hurriedly fished a condom out of the back pocket of those quickly-discarded shorts and expertly ripped the package open with his teeth. He rolled it onto his shaft so deftly I guess I should have been taken aback (practice makes perfect, right?), his eyes all over my naked body as I lay there in anticipation.

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