After fighting my way down the aisle I slid into seat 36C and watched the dreary procession filing into the plane, wondering which of these dour-faced passengers I would be stuck next to for the next ninety minutes. As usual, the few pretty faces I saw found seats well before they reached my row. With my luck I'd probably end up with a chatty old lady telling me about her grandkids the whole flight, or, worse, a sleepy fat guy, taking over the armrest and squeezing me out of my seat.
It looked like the plane was full and I'd escape with the row to myself when a late arrival appeared in the aisle. I couldn't see her too well at first, with the flight attendant in the way, until she was only a few rows in front of me. She was very attractive, probably in her early thirties, short dark hair, a friendly open face, and the kind of lips that seem to be set in a natural smile. I could tell she was tall, but couldn't make out much of her body until she was right at the edge of my seat. She had long legs, and full hips, shown off nicely in her jeans, and -- I caught my breath -- huge, round breasts, right at my eye-level under her tight sweater. I said a quick silent prayer that she was headed for the seat next to mine.
She popped the overhead just above me and lifted her heavy bag up.
"Do you need a hand?" I said.
"No," she said, trying to shove the thing in. With her arms raised, her breasts were right in my face, practically pinning me in my seat. With a final ooomph she got the bag clear of the door and turned around, heading, I supposed, for one of the empty seats behind me. I resolved myself to my fate and wondered how many times I could walk back to the bathroom just to sneak a peak of her.
"Oh," she said, appearing at my side again. "This is it."
I quickly stood up and stepped free of the row. "You're 36D?" I said.
She squeezed past me, her chest just barely brushing my arm. "Actually," she said, smiling, "I'm 36 double-D."
I sat back down, stunned silent. She quietly arranged herself in her seat, adjusting the buckle, putting her bag at her feet, before she burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," she said, "I can't believe I just said that! It's not like me really . . . you just left me too good of an opening."
"I didn't mean . . . "
"No, I know, you were just being polite. I'm Susan."
"Vincent," I said.
We talked the whole flight. We were both going to in Charlotte on business, just for the night. I had to meet with clients and she had to give a presentation. Neither of us knew anybody there, nor had we much desire to see the city. As we started to descend, we agreed to meet for dinner in the restaurant next to her hotel.
On the way out of the airport, walking through the concourse, she spotted the Victoria's Secret.
"Why don't you go ahead," she said. "I'm just going to stop in here."
"Really?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "Did you forget to pack something?"
"No, I just like to pick up a little treat for myself when I come through here."
"I'll tell you what," I said. "Why don't you let me?"
"Really, sit down. Let me pick something out for you. My treat."
"I can't let you --"
"No, I insist. I'll buy as long as you wear it tonight."
She looked at me for a second and then smiled. "Alright," she said. "It's a deal."
I went into the store, wondering what I had gotten myself into. I had never bought lingerie for a woman before. The salesgirl, probably used to clueless guys in the store, spotted me right away.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes. Um. I'm looking for something for a . . . a friend."
"Something sexy?" she smiled.
"Do you know her size?"
As a matter of fact I did. "It's 36DD."
"Wow," said the salesgirl. "She's bigger than I am."
As that felt like an invitation to look, I checked out her more than ample chest. I just grinned by way of comment.
"Most girls that size want something to minimize their chest, you know, to smooth out the figure."
"Actually, I was looking for more of a maximizer."
I saw a twinkle in her eye. "Why am I not surprised? Follow me."
I left the store, presented Susan with the bag, making her promise not to peak until later that night. We parted at the hotel shuttle, setting a time for dinner.
I made it to the restaurant first, and sat at the bar waiting for her. She was five minutes late, then ten, then fifteen, and I was into my second beer wondering if she'd thought better of it, or perhaps been offended by my gift. Finally, almost twenty minutes late, she came in. She wore a knee-length skirt and had on a loose-jacket over her top, so I couldn't tell what effect my present had had.
"Hi," I said, getting up to greet her.
"I should kill you," she said.
"For making me squeeze into this thing. I feel like Dolly Parton. I only had one shirt that would stretch over them."
I couldn't tell if she was actually angry, or just teasing me.
"Uh, I'm sorry," I said.
"No," she smiled. "It's kind of funny actually. I guess I've learned my lesson -- this is what I should have expected, letting a guy buy my bras."
We were led to a corner booth and she finally took off her coat before she sat down. I almost fell out of my seat. She was wearing a tight, clinging, red top with a deep v-neck showing off amazing cleavage. The bra lifted her breasts and pushed them forward, as I knew it would, and made them look gigantic. I saw a couple of guys in the restaurant turn their heads to stare.
"There," she said. "I hope you're happy."
I stared openly, taking them all in. "I am," I said.
"You know," she leaned forward, giving me an even better view, speaking softly, "I kind of like it. I would never dress like this at home."
"You should. It suits you well."
The waitress came by and told us about the house margarita specials.
"That sounds great," I said.
"I'll have one too," said Susan.
"Better make it a pitcher."
Two pitchers later, we staggered back across the street, Susan giggling and holding on to my arm.
"This was a great night," I said. "But being the perfect gentleman that I am, I'll of course offer to escort you up to your room."
"Why thank you," she said, "how nice."
We got a little closer in the elevator. I had my arm around her, letting it slide a little higher, almost touching her heavy breast. When we got to the door, she hugged me good night. The feeling of her tits against my chest almost set me off. I knew she could feel my hardness against her, but I didn't care.
"You know," she whispered, "it's not really fair that you've seen your present on me, but you haven't really seen it, you know?"
I nodded. She opened the door and I followed her in. Taking my hand, she led me to the edge of the bed, where I sat, with her standing in front of me. She kicked off her shoes, laughing as they clunked to the floor.
"I've never put on a show like this," she said.
"Don't worry. You'll get it right."
She slowly unzipped the side of her skirt and stepped out, revealing the pale purple panties I'd bought to match the bra.
"You like?" she said.
"Wonderful," I mumbled.
Moving even slower, she stretched her shirt, raising it over her chest, revealing her big, pale, round breasts and a lacy demi-cup bra, barely able to hold them in. I could just see the tops of her aureolae over the cups, and her hard nipples, poking against the thin fabric. My jaw dropped.
"You like?" she said again.
"Oh my god," was all I could make out.
She laughed and took a step closer and took my hands, placing them on her breasts. I felt their heaviness in my hands, slowly squeezing, rubbing her nipples with my thumbs while I felt her breath quicken. She reached back to unhook, slid the straps off of her shoulders, and watched as I let the bra drop to the floor. Her breasts barely sagged, falling in a perfect pear shape, her large nipples prominent against her pale skin. I pulled her closer to me and touched the tip of my tongue against her nipple, feeling her whole body shiver in response. I couldn't go as slow as I wanted, pulling her into me, mashing my face against her chest, licking sucking, alternating from one to the other, gorging myself on her.
She was breathing faster now, moaning as I bit or pinched in just the right place. While I gave all of my attention to her chest she busied her hands undoing my belt and unzipping me, wrangling my cock out of my pants. "Ooooh," was all she said when she finally got me out and gripped my thickness in her hand.
She put a hand under my chin and lifted my face, so that I looked up at her. She leaned over and kissed me softly, keeping one hand on my cock and feeling it twitch when the tips of our tongues met for the first time. She slowly sank to her knees in front of me, and pulled me to the edge of the bed. She broke our kiss and leaned back for a second, looking at me with that same twinkle in her eye, that same mischievous smile I'd seen before.
She cupped her breasts with her hands and began to rub the nipples over my cock. I moaned, not knowing whether I was moved more by the sensation or the sight. Leaning closer, she wrapped her soft, heavy breasts against my rigid cock. I loved the feeling of her warm flesh against me. She moved faster, feeling my excitement grow. I bucked my hips, helping, while she squeezed tighter, her small hands not even covering her breasts.
"You like that baby?" she said in a soft, sweet voice. "You like how that feels?"
"Mmm," was all I could get out.
"You like how that looks, you like titty-fucking me?"
"Oh!" I gasped to hear her say it.
"Come on baby, fuck my tits, fuck my big titties. I know you've wanted it all day."
"Shhh," she said, "fuck my tits, fuck me faster baby." The rhythm picked up, I could see the swollen tip of my dick just peeking free of her flesh while she moved over me. I was about to burst.
"But you're going to cum if I don't stop?" she smiled.
I moaned an affirmative.
"I want you to," she said, her voice getting huskier. "Cum for me baby, spray it all over my big tits, cum on my tits. Oh!"
She could feel me swelling and leaned forward while I exploded. We both watched as I spurted, wave after wave came over me, drenching her chest, pools of cum dripping down into her deep cleavage. I finally collapsed back on the bed and she stood over me, my cum sliding down over her belly, a satisfied look on her face.
"You know what?" she said. "I think we need a shower."
"Yes," I panted. "Good idea."