The Generation Game Ch. 01bydconrad©
I had known Lorna for about a year when the unusual sequence of events I am about to tell unfolded. She had been my lover for three months or so, I don't think she was particularly into being with another woman, but she loved hearing tales of my sexual exploits, and she loved feeling valued. Sweet Lorna hadn't had much luck with men, she was pregnant when she was 16, but the father had left her to raise her son, Christopher, on her own. Since then she'd had three or four serious relationships but none of them had worked out. She'd been single for three years or so now and had rather given up on the idea of men.
She could have had lots of guys, she had large hazel eyes, a sweet dimpled smile, and a curvaceous figure. I loved her big, almost conical boobs, which projected out from her body like a cartoon rendition of two hills. At the summit of these were the loveliest aureoles, perfectly round and a good 10 centimetres across. These seemed to change in complexion and texture through the year, sometimes smooth and pale, almost indistinguishable from the rest of her breast and other times dark and bubbly as if someone had smoothed chocolate spread in a perfect circle around her nipple.
My theory was that it was this juxtaposition between her sweet, innocent features and her glamour model body that was at the root of her problems with men. She got ones who liked either element, but felt confused by the other, and they held Lorna to blame for this, as if she had betrayed them. If she had the quiet type who fell for her stay-at-home charm, then he'd become jealous when he noticed other guys checking out her hot body. If she had a guy who was besotted with her tits, then he wasn't interested in the rest of the stuff, particularly in becoming a new dad to Christopher. Poor Lorna, trapped by her own genetic make-up, and like a lot of women who are attractive and sensual she lacked the confidence to take control, and to use her assets to her advantage, so she ended up being a passive recipient of events.
Which is why she was happy with me as an occasional lover, as another woman we could be friends easily, she knew I didn't want anything more and I wasn't about to demand she behave one way or another. Her passiveness did irritate me though, and I longed for her to be more assertive. This was, of course, why she longed to hear stories of my sexual exploits, for they were as much about taking control and being positive as they were about sex. In these she saw a life she might have had, or wanted to have. Mind you, she liked the sex parts too.
We had just finished an afternoon session of lovemaking at her house (we worked together, and she lived close to work) which had, as usual, started with me telling her one of my erotic stories. I was 24 at this time, and since the age of 19 had been engaging in exhibitionist and sexual encounters, so I had a good stock to draw on. She also had her favourites which she would request for repeat tellings. I don't know why but I was feeling a bit grouchy with her today, so when she asked for the story on the train (my first real sexual adventure), I refused.
"I tell you lots of stuff about me Lorna, but what about you? Haven't you got any stories to tell me?"
She looked hurt, and a look of puzzlement and resignation flashed across her features. 'Here we go again' it said, and I immediately felt bad. "You know I don't have any stories like that," she murmured.
I stroked her arm softly, "that's not what I meant Sugar Tits". She smirked at this. It was a game we played at work, in my best James Cagney accent I would call her corny names like Hot Stuff, Honey Boobs, Milk Thighs and she would blush, scared that someone might overhear us. I had on occasion sent an email addressed to 'Dear Sweet Pussy...' which she chided me for, but also secretly thrilled at.
I continued, "what I meant was everyone has fantasies. You don't have to have actually done them. Maybe doing them is the boring part, just me being too literal. It's the thoughts and the stories you invent that matter. But I don't know any of that stuff about you. So go on, let me have your dirtiest little mind fuck scenario."
She blushed, which was when I knew I was on to something. It's not true, not everyone does have fantasies, or rather some people's are very mundane 'I'd like to do it with Tracey in the office' is as far as it goes. But Lorna's blush revealed that I'd caught her out, and although she tried to resist, I knew she'd tell me.
"I can't, it's nothing, you know, the usual," she insisted.
I remained silent, but gave her a knowing look and stroked her thigh. She wanted to tell someone, so I didn't need to nag her. "Oh, you! Allright then, but promise not to judge me. And it's not like I want anything to actually happen, just playing around in my head, you know."
"Sure, sure," I reassured her. "You've got me intrigued now though."
She sat up and looked away from me, it being easier for her to relate if she wasn't looking at me. I took the opportunity to appraise her naked body once again, her boobs swinging down to touch her knees as she sat up, those delightful, playful nipples softly resting against her thighs as she brought her legs up.
"Well it's probably just because they're the only men I know, but sometimes I get a bit of a tingle around Christopher, and also my dad. I know it's sick, but I catch one of them looking at me sometimes, in that way you know. And it makes me feel a bit light headed. I've even teased them a couple of times, allowing a button to come undone on a blouse or letting my bath robe slip a bit loose."
I couldn't help smiling at this and catching my expression she whined, "I knew it! You think it's silly! Or sick!"
"No, no, no, not at all," I soothed her. "I think it's really horny, I can imagine you are being very subtle but still driving these two men wild with fantasies."
She blushed again, "do you think so? I want to make it clear I don't want anything, you know, weird to happen. But sometimes I think it would be fun if a slightly more sexual situation arose, just once."
"What you need is a catalyst. Just for a one-off experiment."
"Do I? No. That would be taking it too far." She paused. "What sort of catalyst do you mean?"
I pointed at my chest and puffed out my large breasts. "My middle name is catalyst."
It was all set for the following Saturday. Lorna's dad would be round for his weekly visit, she would be cooking him lunch and Christopher was out all day at a friend's and sleeping over. I wasn't entirely sure how it would pan out, but as I'd said to Lorna in one of our many discussions since, the presence of me in some revealing outfit has to set something off. And if it doesn't, it'll be fun for us two anyway. I also had a couple of tactics I hadn't told Lorna about, and I figured I would ad-lib it most of the way.
Lorna was in the kitchen of her town house, her dad seated at the table as she busied herself making a lasagne. At 1.30 I knocked on the door. I had given Lorna only three instructions: she was to act as if she didn't know me; to play along with what I did; and the last one she enacted as she opened the door which was to 'accidentally' spill a glass of cold water all down my top. It may be a cliché, but sometimes they work the best.
She opened the door to me, carrying the requisite large glass of water. A moment's hesitation shivered the glass in her hand as she took in my outfit. I was wearing a very tight, thin white cotton blouse, unbuttoned to my cleavage. Obviously I wasn't wearing a bra underneath and my nipples were already quite distinct. I also had on a short pleated skirt, revealing my shapely legs and some 'fuck me' pumps as they're so colourfully known. Despite having spent many afternoons and evenings together, I realised this was the first time she'd seen me in anything provocative.
Her expression struggled to convey and hide several emotions: excitement, anxiety, trepidation, arousal and confusion. I gave her a cheery smile to encourage her.
She stepped over the threshold then, entering into the scenario. She threw her water onto my blouse with a quick jerk and with mildly comic exaggeration declared "oh I'm so sorry! I've spilt water all over you. I'm so clumsy. Please, come in and we'll sort it out."
I made some obligatory protests for her dad's benefit and followed her into the kitchen. If I doubted whether the cliché would work, his reaction removed all doubts. The water had rendered my blouse completely transparent in patches, my left boob as good as naked and half of my right nipple visible. Her dad literally spluttered on his tea and half choked, standing up, then sitting down again and looking flustered.
I could sense Lorna beginning to lose it and starting to giggle, which would have ruined it, so I took control. "Oh hello, I'm Dawn. Sorry to disturb you, I'm selling a new type of cleaner. Your wife spilt some water on me, I'm sorry, I must look a right state."
"I'm not his w.." Lorna began, but her dad interrupted her.
"Yes, my wife, Lorna, I'm Frank. And don't worry, you're not disturbing us, and you don't look a state at all, you look cracking." Frank gave a hesitant smile. He was around 50, I guess that like Lorna, he'd had been a parent when he was young. He was solidly built, not fat, but chunky. His large hands were laid out on the table in front of him, and it reminded me of that Picasso photo where his fingers are replaced by bread rolls. He looked like a carpenter to me, a reliable bloke, someone who would come round and fix anything in your house for you with a minimum of fuss. Living my lifestyle I've learnt to be able to judge people quickly and I knew instantly that Frank would be fun, but also safe and trustworthy.
I feigned a blush, "why thank you." I peeled the blouse away from my breasts, Frank was transfixed by this action. "Can you dry this?" I asked Lorna.
"Erm, sure. I've got a tumble dryer or hairdryer?"
"Tumble dryer is best I guess." With that I began unbuttoning my blouse. I stopped at the fifth button and looked directly at Frank. "Sorry, you don't mind do you? It's just the quickest way and I can get on with my rounds then."
"N, no, of course not. I understand completely. We don't mind do we Lorna?"
Lorna was paralysed, caught between wanting the game to progress and startled at how quickly we had come to this point. This was one of my tactics, combined with the 'mistake' of thinking they were husband and wife which was designed to knock Lorna off balance a bit and to add some spice to the scenario. I stared at her, nodding for her to respond. She could stop this now, return us all to some normality, or she could continue. This was what she had to decide.
She shook her head, and I thought it was all over, but the action was more one of shaking away doubts, for she beamed and said "of course not, whip it off, we're all grown ups here."
I wanted to kiss her then, and gave her a supportive smile. I slowly undid the remaining buttons, concentrating on my blouse but aware that Frank and Lorna were completely captivated by this casual striptease. I could hear Frank's deep breaths as he sat gripping the table in anticipation and Lorna was motionless, standing by the kitchen. I was the only point of motion in the tableau like a scene from the Matrix.
I undid the last button and peeled the blouse off, revealing my breasts to Frank. Needless to say my nipples were very erect, and as I tossed the blouse to Lorna I made sure my boobs jiggled sufficiently for Frank to let out a groan.
"I've got a top you can borrow," Lorna croaked.
I had anticipated this, and I couldn't keep up the pretence that it was all innocent if I refused to put a top on, so I said "no, it's fine, I don't want to trouble you. I've got a cardigan in my bag I can wear."
I bent forward, in no obvious rush, and permitting Frank a good side view as my hefty boobs swung away from body. I rummaged through my bag, ensuring my breasts swayed and undulated, and then pulled out a black cardigan. It was a mini-cardigan, designed to just be worn over the shoulders. I put it on, jutting my chest forward, so Frank could see my painfully erect nipples. The cardigan was too small to button up, so I smoothed it around my breasts, leaving it undone.
"There," I said, "that's better." All eyes were on my skimpy top which ended just below my boobs, and which threatened to peel open at any moment. There was so much flesh on show that it wasn't really 'better' at all, but I acted as if full modesty had been restored.
I sat opposite Frank at the bench table. I noticed that Lorna hadn't even put my blouse in the tumble dryer, and had just left it on the side. She had barely moved since I came in. Finally she came over and sat next to her father.
"So, erm, what is it you were selling?" Frank managed to ask.
"Oh," I said, beaming. "Yes, I may as well demonstrate while I'm here. This is my first day trying this door to door sales lark. To be honest I don't think I'm very good at it, but I'll show you anyway."
I reached into my bag and pulled out a handheld vacuum hoover, an alternative to the Dust Devil, which I had purchased from the Shopping Channel just for this scenario. I knew I had to have a story that was at least possible, if not that plausible, to maintain the right tone.
"This is a K2 Hand Vacuum," I declared. Then, having memorised the advertising blurb, I recited "How many times do you have annoying little spills? Crumbs, even liquids. You don't want to grapple with the big hoover every time, but you don't want these little spills to build up. The K2 Hand Vacuum is the answer. It slots on your wall for easy access and with one quick blast sucks up anything." I laid a slight emphasis on the word 'sucks' here, but not too much. "Allow me to demonstrate."
I stood up, and as I turned to the side I realised what a good job the cardigan did of outlining the curve of my full breast against the black material. The cardigan clung bravely to each nipple for now. Both Lorna and Frank were definitely not focussing on the K2 Hand vacuum.
I switched it on and continued, "it is easy to clean surfaces, and also those high cupboard shelves." I ran it along the kitchen worktop and then opened a cupboard and reached up as high as I could to hoover a top shelf. This caused my short skirt to rise up, as planned, revealing the skimpy white knickers I was wearing, and the bottom half of my pert buttocks.
"It's also really easy to use on people, if you spill crumbs," I leant over Frank and seductively ran the hoover down his chest and then across his crotch. This made Lorna stare at the big bulge in his trousers, which twitched as I pushed the hoover against it. I went over it again and he made a small, involuntary thrusting motion towards the hoover. My breasts were inches from his face now, and the stretching had cause the right one to slip free of the material. Frank licked his lips as he stared at it.
I switched off the hoover and quipped, "is that a K2 Hand Hoover in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"
"Oh God," he moaned. "I'm sorry, but I'll never forgive myself if I don't ask this. Can I feel your tits please?"
I chuckled, he was like a little boy asking if he could stay up late. "Well, I guess I should repay your kindness, but it's up to your wife. I don't want to cause any trouble. What do you think Lorna, should I let Frank play with my tits?"
Lorna was flushed, almost panicked. I gave her a wink of encouragement. "Yes, sure I guess," she managed to mumble.
Franks' hands reached up to my quivering bosom, but I stopped them, "on one condition. I don't want to be the only one topless here, and it looks to me as if your wife has a lovely pair on her. So you can play with my tits all you like if Lorna takes her top off."
This ruse of pretending to mistake them for husband and wife was really working well. Lorna glared at me. Frank looked between my breasts, his hands still outstretched and achingly close to squeezing my melons, and then back to Lorna, a puppy dog expression on his face.
"Please Lorna," he begged. He didn't want to be denied my breasts now and would have asked her to do anything.
"Ohhh, allright." She quickly and demurely unbuttoned her blouse and threw it to one side. She was wearing a lilac bra which encased her torpedo shaped breasts. Not looking at us she whipped this off, and stood with her arms folded under her breasts, her face set defiantly.
I smiled as it occurred to me that Frank and I now had to feign opposing reactions. I had to pretend this was the first time I had seen her breasts, and Frank had to react as if it was a regular occurrence. I think I did a better job.
"Wow," I breathed, "your missus has got a fantastic set of tits. It's not often my boobs seem inferior in a room, but they do now."
Frank was mesmerised, my naked breasts momentarily forgotten. Lorna's saucer-like aureoles were light pink, fading into the milky smoothness of her domed bosom. Her arm underneath brought them together so the nipples were like two eyes, drilling into Frank's own wide eyes. He ached to reach up and cup them, and nuzzle into them.
Lorna was silent, looking at her father's hypnotised reaction. She softly chewed her lip, something she often did when nervous or aroused. I wasn't sure what it was this time. Frank wiped his mouth, his hands dropping to his lap. He was paralysed, unable to make a decision about how to proceed.
"Ahem," I coughed. "I have a pair of boobs here that someone was going to fondle. You can play with Lorna's any time."
With that Frank snapped his gaze away from Lorna's chest and turned back to me, a grin of pure joy spreading across his face as he appraised my full breasts hanging above him. My tits are a bit smaller than Lorna's, I'm a 36DD and she is a whopping 40F, but my waist is a bit slimmer, so they look even bigger on my small frame, seeming to occupy all of my upper torso.
Frank reached up with both hands and enveloped each boob in his mighty hands. My breasts have been described crudely by some men as 'more than a handful', but this wasn't true in Frank's case. His large mitt fully covered each breast and he began to knead them softly, his rough palms rubbing against my nipples. I found the sight of his big hands engulfing my tits very erotic and I started gyrating my chest against his hands. It is one of the great things about sex that you can never predict what image will suddenly cause that wave of erotic stimulation. I remember the first time an elderly man caressed my body, it was the contrast of his wrinkled skin against my smooth, taut flesh that really turned me on. Now, seeing Frank's big workman hands dwarf my breasts I felt my arousal go to the next level. If ever I had doubted about going all the way, that uncertainty was gone now. Even if Lorna had begged me I wouldn't have been able to stop now.
"Oh, I love your big hands on my tits Frank," I said, stroking the back of his hands. "I bet you love him playing with your tits with these strong hands, don't you Lorna?"
Lorna just moaned softly, her left hand lightly caressing her right breast. Frank shuffled forward and took one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking lightly on it, while he continued to fondle the other breast.
I let out a grunt of satisfaction, running my hand across the back of his head. He slurped greedily on my tits, alternating his attention between them. He was obviously happy to do this all day, so I thought I'd entertain them both while he enjoyed himself.
"I wouldn't want you both to think I do this sort of thing all the time," I said. "Tell me Frank, can you tell when a woman is feeling uncontrollably horny?"
"Mmbbmml," he muttered, his mouth full of tit-flesh.