Tit-Job On The Road

"Hold my breasts," she said. "I want you to squeeze them onto your cock. And I want you to massage them while you fuck my cleavage. My boobs are very sensitive, and connected directly to my pussy. I want you to use my breasts to make me come at the same time that they make you come."

I placed the palms of my hands on her firm mounds, fingers wrapped around, thumbs directly on her nipples. She moaned at the touch; I had no doubt that she could get off from this sort of stimulation. I started pistoning my cock between her glorious melons, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. I drooled onto my shaft, not through any conscious decision, but because it took too much concentration away from my sexual needs to try to swallow it or to contain it in my mouth. I felt my taught shaft sliding against her flesh; I felt her rock-hard nipples poking into the pads of my thumbs. I felt her ribs on my inner thighs. I saw her eyes roll back in her head and her chin point toward the ceiling. I saw her chest rise and fall in short, sharp gasps as she caught each breath. And then I felt something more: I felt her fingernails digging sharply into the flesh of my ass!

I soon realized that her tugs and squeezes on my ass cheeks were in direct response to my motions on her boobs. If I squeezed tighter, she squeezed tighter. If I kneaded in a circle, she kneaded in a circle. If I pressed flat with my palms, so did she.

But then, she started deviating from what I was doing. I realized that she had taken the lead in this dance, and was showing me what she wanted me to do to her sensitive tits. She rolled my buttocks in a circular motion, so I did the same to her boobs. She crooned with pleasure. Then she squeezed my cheeks together with all her strength, so I did the same to her knockers. She howled with pleasure. She pinched me with her thumbs and forefingers, so I did the same to her nipples. She yelped with pleasure! All the while I was thrusting in the valley of her cleavage like a man possessed; thrusting and drooling and grunting, and dancing to her tune on her boobs like a marionette with strings on his ass!

It wasn't long before I felt that familiar rising heat in my loins. That warmth that starts in the balls, then slowly expands upward to the pelvis, then outward to the hips. Then it rises, like a mushroom cloud, up the abdomen, taking all your internal organs in its wake. Eventually it reaches your heart, which skips a beat or two. After that, it spreads out to your arms and your neck at the same time, and then engulfs your ears and turns them crimson. Then your vision glazes over and your breath comes short, and you feel like you have swallowed a hand grenade. I knew this was the end, and I let out a tremendous yell as my orgasm shook me to the core.

At the same time, my fists clenched tighter and tighter on those wonderful, magical boobies, oblivious of any pain I might be causing them. She screamed at the same time, and dug her fingernails deeper into my cheeks. We shuddered together, spasmed together, and arched our backs together. My cock sprang free from her cleavage and shot a long white strand of spunk directly into the air, which then wafted back down to land on her grimacing face. The second strand went nearly as high, and landed right on her tits. The third and fourth strands had less muzzle velocity, but still managed to drench her boobs and fill her cleavage like a mountain pool.

I was spent. I pitched forward, barely having the presence of mind to break my fall with my arms. My face came to rest in the pool of jism in her cleavage, and I dozed off momentarily in that white gooey lake of our passion.

She was shaking me awake. "Hey, this is nice and cozy and all, but I think you need to get off me so that I can breathe!" she was saying. Groggily, I pulled my face out of her cleavage and dismounted stiffly from her torso. I shook my head to try to clear it. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Wow. That's all I can say is, fuckin' wow." I looked at her in awe. She was still on her back, but propped up on her elbows, a line of cum across her nose and cheek and my face print in white on her chest. She looked pleased with herself.

"Well? Was that an experience worth writing about?" she asked. Her little smile told me that she didn't do it just for the story, but the pleading in her voice told me that she really wanted it to be published as well.

"I'm not much of a writer," I told her, "but I promise to try to put something together. We'll see if they publish it."

"You're a doll," she said. "But don't use my real name, okay? Call me, uhh, oh I don't know. Something appropriate. You're the writer."

"I'll do my best," I promised.

She started gathering up her clothes. She put just enough of them on to look decent for the walk out to her car. As she reached the door, she stopped and turned around. "I've got it!" she said. "Call me Mammy!" She winked, blew me a kiss, and was gone.

Mammy? I don't think so. I'll stick with Melanie.