I suppose that, like young Rufus in the old song, I have always been a Tit Man. Breasts, boobs, tits, hooters, mammaries - whatever you want to call them, I have always been fascinated by women's breasts. Of all shapes and sizes, the way they jiggle and bounce, the way they feel, the way they look, with or without clothes covering them, the way their nipples protrude -- I love everything about them.
The first date I ever went on, a girl named Suzy and I went to a movie together. Within the first 20 minutes of the movie, the female lead was topless on the screen. I had my arm around Suzy's shoulder at the time, but when the leading lady's breasts filled our field of vision, Suzy reached up, grabbed my hand, and pulled it down to her breast. I was stunned; I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. My first date, and she put my hand on her breast!
I mean, I'd had plenty of access to glossy magazine photos of bare-breasted (and bare-assed, and even barer than that) women. I knew what naked boobs looked like, and I'd stroked my cock to those photos many times. But the firm, soft, jiggly heft of a real, live, actual woman's breast was orders of magnitude more exciting than a flat, two-dimensional picture of one (or even two).
I spent the next two hours squeezing and fondling Suzy's breast, reveling in its soft, round firmness. I could even feel her erect nipples through the fabric of her shirt and her bra. And Suzy, for her part, seemed to enjoy it, too. For me, at least, it was a mind-bending experience.
That date was pretty much my initiation into the wonders of the human female breast. Not all of my dates ended with my hand on the girl's boobs, but after that I could never get enough of them -- I LOVED tits!
When I was in college, the girls were more sexually adventurous than they'd been in high school. And of course, more sexually mature. Which meant that large, firm breasts were in somewhat more plentiful supply. It was always fun to be with a girl who had really nice tits, and liked to have them played with. Then I could roll around for hours with my face lost in heaven between her tits, squeezing and fondling and licking and sucking them, teasing their nipples, and generally savoring their full splendor, in all its many aspects.
In the summer before my last year of college, I was out riding my bicycle one warm day. I'd ridden maybe 25 or 30 miles, when I came upon a woman sitting by the side of the road, with a dejected look on her face. Her bike was lying on the ground next to her, with the rear wheel removed.
I pulled off the road. "Need any help?" I asked her.
"I flatted," she told me, a look of mild disgust on her face. "It's embarrassing. I really do know enough to have a spare inner tube with me, but I got caught without one."
"No problem," I responded. "I've got a tube right here." I rummaged around in my bag and pulled out a spare inner tube. "Here, let me fix it for you."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know," I said with a wink. I wasn't really meaning to flirt with her; at least, not overtly. But I had noticed that she filled out her cycling jersey quite nicely, and I didn't want to say good-bye to her and move on just yet.
I replaced her inner tube, re-attached the wheel to her bike, and pumped it back up to the proper pressure. "There," I said with a satisfied grin, "You're good to go. Where are you headed?"
"At this point, just back into town."
"Mind if I ride with you?"
"Not at all. In fact, I'd like that. I'm Marcy."
We got back on the road, and I found that Marcy was a strong rider. At times, she would sprint ahead playfully, and I'd have to work to reel her back in, but only after giving myself a few minutes to watch her shapely ass while she turned the pedals.
Mostly, though, we were happy just to ride side-by-side and talk, and get to know each other. And I found that we shared a whole range of interests besides cycling. This Marcy was quite a girl.
When we got back into town, Marcy turned to me and asked, "Would you like to stop at my place for a while, to cool down?"
"Sure," I answered. "I'd like that a lot."
We got to her apartment and locked our bikes, and I followed her inside.
When we got inside her apartment and closed the door, Marcy took her hair out of its pony-tail and shook it loose. Then, she casually pulled down the zipper of her jersey, trying to release the heat of the ride, and get some cool air on her skin, exposing the dewy inner curves of her breasts in the process. I could see that my initial impression of her generous endowment had not been mistaken. Following her lead, I did likewise; the cool air felt wonderful against my overheated skin.
"Would you like anything to drink?" Marcy asked. "Some ice-water? Or maybe a margarita?"
"A margarita sounds real nice, if you don't mind."
"No trouble at all. In fact, I'll join you in one."
"I don't think we'll both fit," I retorted. It was a goofy joke, but she laughed freely. Even if her laughter was faked for my benefit, I was getting to really like this girl.
Marcy brought the margaritas and sat next to me at the table. "Thanks for rescuing me," she said with a little smirk. Then she leaned in and kissed me on my lips. Instantly, I felt her tongue probing, seeking entry to my mouth. I opened up and let her in, and immediately, she sought out my tongue, and out two tongues intertwined, while we explored every nook of each other's mouth.
Finally, Marcy came up for air. "Shucks, ma'am," I drawled, trying to recover my breath, "'Tweren't nothin'."
"I beg to differ," she said. Then she stood up and peeled her jersey back off her shoulders, bringing her breasts into full, open view. I gasped. They were magnificent-- solid C-cups, full and firm and round, with dark pink nipples the size of half-dollars. "You like?" she asked.
I grinned. Besides everything else, this girl was bold. Still, I felt I should be clear. "Look, Marcy," I said, "you don't need to repay me with sex for helping you on the road. But just for the record: yeah, I like. A LOT!"
She smiled. "I wouldn't do it for 'payment'. But I AM grateful for your help; that was a very kind thing you did for me out there. Besides, I like you. I hope that's OK."
"Ummm. . . it's OK with me!"
Taking me by the hand, she led me down the hall to her bedroom. "It's just as well we're both all sweaty," she said. "We'll just end up that way, anyway."
She sensuously peeled my jersey off me, and ran her hands over my chest. "I like a hairy chest," she said. "I think hairy men are sexy." Damn, this girl was something else!
By that point, my cock was well on its way to full erection, and my stretchy cycling shorts did next-to-nothing to conceal it. It stuck out in front of me like a black-draped flagpole. Pre-cum was oozing through the fabric, making a spreading slick circle on the front of my shorts. Marcy saw it, and smiled leeringly at me, then reached down to grip the meat-stick protruding from my crotch, squeezing and stroking it through the token covering of my lycra shorts. "Very nice," she purred. "Come on," she grinned, "let me see it." Looking into my eyes, she peeled my shorts down over my ass, and down my legs, while I stood there dumbly, letting her do as she pleased. When I stepped out of them, I was completely naked.
"You have a marvelous cock, Chad," she said, as she began to stroke my naked manhood. She cupped my balls, and I thought I would come right there, before we even got to the bed.
I sat down on the bed, and pulled her down with me. I wanted to give proper attention to her incredible tits. While she continued to play with my cock, I leaned over her and began to lick and suck on her breasts, tracing the outline of their roundness with my tongue, wetting every square inch of them. I savored the earthy odor of her glistening skin, kneading one breast with my hand while I sucked on the other one. Her nipples were stiffly erect, and I nibbled at them with my lips, first one, then the other, while Marcy groaned with pleasure. I nestled my face in her ample cleavage and sucked on the skin in the valley between her tits.
Marcy groaned. "You're good," she said, breathing more heavily. "I can never get anyone to play with my tits the way I want them to. I love it; thanks."
This girl, I thought to myself, is perfect for me; she even likes to have her tits played with. I hopped up and straddled her chest. I ran my cockhead along her cleavage, squeezing pre-cum onto her skin. She knew exactly what I was doing, and reached up to squeeze her tits together around my cock. Slowly, I started to slide my cock back-and-forth in the tight valley thus formed between her tits. My cock would disappear between them, and then, at the top of my stroke, the head would peek out from between her magnificent globes. A few times, Marcy lifted her head to kiss or lick my cockhead at the top of the stroke.
I savored the sensation of fucking her beautiful tits, until I felt my balls swelling. "I'm gonna come," I told her.
"Yeah -- come on my tits," she gasped.
So I released myself to my orgasm, and shot a huge clot of cum onto her upper chest. Then another. And another. It had been a while since I'd had any sex, and it felt like I pumped a whole gallon of cum onto her.
Marcy was ecstatic to have me come on her tits like that, and instantly, she was rubbing my cum all over her wonderful tits, until they were wet and shiny with my semen.
She smiled up at me. "Better than any skin cream," she said. I think, at that very second, I knew that she had to be my wife.
I fell back onto the bed, but I saw that I still had work to do -- she still had her cycling shorts on, and she hadn't come yet. So I slid down to her crotch and peeled her shorts off her -- the crotch-pad was soaked with the juices of her arousal. I inhaled deeply of her musky aroma, and began nuzzling at the soft skin on the inside of her thighs.
"Oh!" she cried, "You're going to eat my pussy? You're just too good to be true, aren't you?"
"I hope not," I answered. "At least, I'm pretty sure I'm real."
I nuzzled and nibbled in circles around her pussy, savoring her thick curly pubic hair, while she writhed and moaned as her arousal grew. Finally, I found her clit, and began licking it with broad, ice-cream strokes, in between sucking on it as if it were a piece of candy (which, as far as I was concerned, it was).
"Oh god," she groaned, "that's incredible. Shit, that feels good. . ."
In short order, she clamped her legs around my head and bucked her hips against my face. I could taste her thick vaginal juice as she started to come, squirming and twisting against my tongue, sobbing and groaning as her climax overtook her.
By the time her orgasm began to subside, I was hard again, and I slid up between her legs, positioning my cockhead against her opening. Looking into her eyes, I silently asked permission. She nodded. "Put it in me," she panted.
She groaned again as I entered her, slowly but persistently, until my pubic bone bumped against hers, and my pubic hair tangled with hers. Slowly, I began to rock back-and-forth, my cockhead probing to her core.
In and out, up and down, back and forth, we rocked together in the ancient sexual rhythm. Marcy showed her athleticism as she threw herself up against me, emitting a feminine grunt with every thrust, while I pounded into her. I'd never been with a sexually aggressive woman like her. Finally, I could hold myself back no longer, and with a final thrust and a triumphant shout, I sent my sperm shooting into Marcy's womb.
We lay together for a long time afterward, panting and gasping and trying to catch our breath.
"That was incredible," she finally gasped. "You are an amazing lover. And you really know how to treat my tits."
I blushed. "You're a pretty amazing lover yourself," I enthused. "And just between you and me, your tits are really easy to treat well."
Marcy and I moved in together at the end of the summer, and spent our final year of college as roommates. And I had all the access I could ever want, to the most magnificent breasts in the world, and the woman who owned them, who wanted nothing more than to have me play with them.
We were married a couple months after graduation. I still remember, on our honeymoon, just spending hours in bed stroking and nuzzling and suckling Marcy's tits, and falling asleep after we made love, still spooned together, my hands drowsily cupping her breasts.
When Marcy got pregnant for the first time, I discovered that pregnancy does some very happy things to a woman's breasts. Over the course of the first few months, her breasts swelled from a C-cup to something more like a DD. They were heavy and pendulous, and rather than jiggling when she walked, they more like swayed back and forth. When I would reach around her from behind to fondle her tits, I would simply revel in their sheer size and mass, jiggling and bouncing them, as they rolled and overflowed the capacity of my hands. I couldn't believe that I had been blessed to have such wondrously huge breasts at my daily disposal. I could lose myself in those incredible orbs, and I often did.
When our daughter Sally was born, Marcy's heavy tits became full -- of milk! From the beginning, I was just in awe of the fact that Marcy's body was making food for our baby -- we didn't need to go to the store and get any food for her; all she needed to stay alive was coming directly out of Marcy's body!
Once, when Sally was still quite young, Marcy and I were playing around in bed, and I playfully took her breast in my mouth and sucked on it, like I had hundreds of times before. Suddenly, a stream of milk burst into my mouth. At first, I was a bit startled -- it was like a new and unfamiliar bodily fluid spraying into my mouth - and I reflexively recoiled from it. But it was warm and sweet; quite tasty, in fact.
Once I thought about it, I realized that Marcy's milk was food for our baby, and if little Sally could drink it -- her life depended on it, in fact -- then so could I. When I thought just a bit more, it seemed incredibly earthy and erotic, sucking and swallowing a new bodily fluid from Marcy's body, almost like a new form of oral sex. In fact, when Marcy felt her milk squirting into my mouth, she groaned erotically and pressed my head against herself. It was still way too soon after Sally's birth for us to make love, but Marcy was virtually getting off just from me sucking the milk from her tits. After that, sucking milk from Marcy's breasts became a regular feature of our love-play, and even before I could get back inside her, it seemed to provide her with enough sexual satisfaction to get her through until I could. I just needed to be careful to leave enough milk for Sally.
Once Marcy and I could resume having sex, a few weeks after Sally's birth (the doctor said six weeks; Marcy negotiated him down to five; after four-and-a-half, we simply couldn't wait any longer), we discovered even more unexpected wonders of lactating breasts.
Marcy and I were in bed one night, one of the first few times we were making love after Sally's birth. Marcy stroked my cock into full erection, while I idly played with her pussy, gently caressing her engorged labia. I poked a fingertip into her opening and began to probe inside her. Quickly, she was oozing her juice onto my fingers as they slid in and out of her.
Marcy was still a bit sensitive 'down there', so I took it easy, and let Marcy mainly take the lead. She climbed on top of me, and straddled my hips, rubbing her cunt-lips slowly and gingerly along the length of my shaft, purring and moaning as she reacquainted herself with the sensations of sex, after having been 'out of the saddle' for so long.
Finally, with a twist of her hips, Marcy took me into herself, with a sharp intake of air at the sensation of my cock inside her long-inactive vagina. "At last!" she groaned. "Welcome home, baby! I've missed you so much. . ."
"I've missed you too, baby," I moaned in response. "It feels so good to be inside you again." I was in heaven, finally feeling my erection wrapped again in Marcy's warm, welcoming pussy. I savored the feeling, and just let Marcy lead the movements. Slowly, tentatively, she began to move tenderly back and forth on my cock. I stayed hard inside her while she slowly acclimated herself to the sensations of fucking again. Once she was more accustomed to it, she slowly began to increase the force and tempo of her movements, while I tried to match her rhythm, without causing her any discomfort.
Apparently, she was doing just fine. After a few minutes, her head rolled back, which is her main sign that orgasm is close at hand. "Oh, baby!" she cried. "Oh baby. . . I'm coming! Oh, I'm coming! Oh, yessssss. . ." With a low groan, she began rhythmically squeezing her legs on my hips, and grinding her pussy onto my cock. As her orgasm began to wash over her, she was shuddering and quivering and moaning in ecstasy.
And then it happened -- streams of milk began flowing copiously from her breasts, running down her belly and onto mine, giving us both an impromptu milk bath, and soaking the sheets in the process.
"What's going on?" Marcy gasped.
"What the hell?" I echoed.
We had no idea, until that moment, that a nursing mother's orgasm can trigger her let-down reflex, causing her milk to flow freely. We just sat there, with me still inside her, looking at our milk-soaked selves and the saturated sheets, not knowing quite exactly what had just happened, except that Marcy had had her first orgasm in over a month, and we were both drenched with milk. We both burst out laughing at the sheer, incomprehensible, ridiculousness of the whole situation, and this new aspect of her body that neither of us had had a clue of, until that very second. Marcy rubbed her body sensuously against mine, our bodies sliding on each other through a lubricating film of Marcy's milk. I resumed my thrusting into her, and in the fullness of time, gave her the first load of my cum in a month.
We lay together for a long time afterward, savoring the renewal of our sexual union after so many weeks. Marcy sensually rubbed her body against mine, trailing her sensitive nipples through my chest hair, and reveling in the slipperiness of the milk between our bodies.
Then we changed the sheets.
After that, we at least knew what to expect, and kept a towel handy in case it should happen again.
Sally wasn't always as hungry as Marcy's milk supply would have wanted her to be. When Marcy's breasts filled up, and Sally didn't drain them all the way, the pressure build-up could be painful. I came home from work one afternoon to find Marcy sitting in the kitchen 'milking' herself. She grimaced, and told me, "Sally's nap is going long. I've got to let some milk out." I watched as she lightly squeezed one breast and then the other, directing a stream of milk into a small pitcher on the table.
I watched for a few minutes, utterly fascinated by what she was doing. I looked at Marcy. "Can I try it?"
Marcy grinned. "Sure!" she said. "That could be fun!" Then she guided my hands and showed me how to hold her breasts (and here I thought I'd known all along) -- how to heft them gently and lightly pinch just behind the nipple, to cause the milk to flow without causing her pain. I loved it -- it was like I was discovering some new, hidden Secret of Nature. There was something very erotic, and at the same time incredibly earthy and natural, about 'milking' my wife, like I was discovering a whole new world of her body, and the wonders that were designed into it. Besides, I got to play with her breasts in a really cool way. We even got a cupful of milk from it.