An Equestrian Affair

"Keys please," Helena said, holding out her hand as she stood in the doorway. He dropped the keys into the flower bed, turned on his heels, and walked down the path to his car. As the sound of his car faded away she sighed and bent down to retrieve his set of house keys from amongst the daffodils.

"Done. I am done with men," she muttered as she brushed the earth from the keys and headed back inside. The door closed with a satisfying clunk and she flopped down onto the sofa. Retrieving her phone from her back pocket, she began the purge. Photos of happier times with him were hard to delete but in the end she knew it was necessary to move on. At least this relationship had lasted a year.

A photo of their last holiday appeared. She paused. A beach in southern France, posing in a bikini as he took the photo. Helena hated beaches. Not because of the sand getting stuck in her toes, but because she felt somehow inadequate. She was at her slimmest when this one was taken - size 6, and when you're 5ft11 and skinny it's inevitable you'll look like a tall flat-chested stick when compared to others. She barely filled an A cup bikini top and was self-conscious about it.

Behind her in the photo she could see a group of women, early 20s at most, frozen in time as they walked down the beach in a line. "What the...," she noticed for the first time that all appeared to be unusually well-endowed for their frames. "Implants surely," she thought, "Got to be about E cups the lot of them. That bastard was looking at them!," she shouted, realising that her now ex-boyfriend had been interested in others even back then. She deleted the photo, flung her phone across the sofa and stared at the blank wall facing her. A blank slate.

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It was Sunday afternoon and the fear of Monday was setting in. Strangely it was going to work on Monday she was more upset about than the breakup. The trail of ex boyfriends was now so long she was used to it now.

She'd qualified as an equine vet three years previously and moved from her hometown in the leafy stockbroker belt of Surrey to rural, peaceful Dorset. Gone were the busy roads, London commuters and grand Victorian villas. Instead were rural lanes mostly composed of mud, country types who barely left the county, and beautiful villages with thatched cottages hardly changed since the time of Thomas Hardy. The locals even boasted that no motorways entered the county. It was tough work - long hours, messy, sometimes dangerous and in a typically British spring, wet.

Her accent reflected her privileged background. A Dad who worked in the city and earnt the bread, a Mum who didn't work and raised the children. Helena passed through a nice prep school, to a reassuringly expensive secondary school, and onwards to a fitting Russell-Group-but-not-quite-Oxbridge university for a 'proper' degree with solid career and earning prospects. Every middle-class parent's dream. All was going according to plan, except the boyfriends. She was nearing 27 and by this age her parents were married and starting a family. Now they were getting impatient for grandchildren. She decided it best to keep the breakup to herself for a while. "Not up for that disapproving look from Dad again", she thought.

House jobs complete and dinner eaten, Helena settled down for the evening, switching the TV on. She flicked through the channels finding nothing, so switched to Netflix and began doom-scrolling. Nothing but trash. She snorted and gave up. She found her mind drifting back to the photo from the beach. Not to her, but to the group of enhanced women in the background. She was surprised to feel a tingling start to build between her thighs. "Interesting...," she thought. Retrieving her tablet from the coffee table, she tapped in the pin and opened a browse tab.

'P...o...r,' she typed, before it auto-completed and sent her to Pornhub. "Am I that predictable?", she asked herself. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was a good idea. "Hey, it's just research, right?" She started typing 'Huge...fake...tits' and hit return. Her screen filled with a predictable selection of the internet's finest silicone.

She didn't realise it was even possible to get implants so big. Some were freakishly large. "Oh my god", she held a hand over her mouth, scrolling through the page past pornstars with names like 'Vivian Rose' and 'Jessy Bunny'.

"How on earth do they carry those around, that shouldn't even be possible?".

Curiosity got the better of her and she carried on scrolling the page.

"Those look...great," she thought, "But, God they're huge. Am I starting to like these...?"

The preview image was fully taken up by a pair of beach ball sized breasts. They were veiny and sore looking, as though they had only just been enhanced. They stood out from the woman's chest like they were bolted-on. Helena clicked the image, moistening her lips slightly in anticipation. She found herself transfixed as the woman massaged her oiled, plastic-filled tits too close to the camera so they were all she could see. She could feel moisture building in between her legs and she found herself sliding her hand through the waistband of her pajamas, reaching down to find her clitorus. Jolts of pleasure shook through her body and her rubbing became faster and more frantic. The huge breasted woman was now giving a tit-job to a dildo, her breasts engulfing the average sized sex toy. They didn't even have a gap between them, just a deep crevice that was her cleavage, so rather than pushing her boobs together, she was actually using the toy to separate them.

It didn't take long. Perhaps the feeling of doing something forbidden helped, but in a few minutes she felt a wave start to build until it finally swept over her. Orgasm. Intense. She shook, like a blast of cold air had blown over her, and slumped back in the chair. Minutes passed before she felt revived, mental clarity returning.

"Wow, that was...intense," she whistled and took a look at the name of the pornstar she had just debauched herself to...'vanillaandcaramel'.

"Catchy" she smirked, "but with those assets, memorable".

Helena looked at her watch. It read 11.30pm.

"Aghh late for bed", she thought and traipsed up the stairs to her room. She went to bed that night thinking, not of her failed relationship, not of her next day working outside in the rain, but of something new, unexpected, and disturbingly hard to ignore - enhanced breasts.

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The next day at work was thankfully quiet. Simple cases, simple clients, and the added bonus of not being bitten, kicked or shat on all day. It could be quite solitary at times, driving between appointments spaced across the county, but better than an office job she always told herself.

The driving left a lot of time for thinking and today her mind was distracted. Flashes of swollen saline-packed breasts disturbed her thoughts, quite in contrast to the picture-postcard scenery outside the car. This was little-England, home of high hedges, cosy pubs and old men tottering to the Post Office (if it hasn't closed), XL boobjobs were an alien concept to this landscape.

By the time she returned home, it was dark and the wind lashed the daffodils by the door. Last years' autumn leaves blew around in an eddy formed by the porch and gratefully escaped into the hallway as she opened the door. She dived in, escorted the leaves back outside and thudded the door closed.

She shoved down her dinner and grabbed the tablet again - she had a clear aim tonight. Over the course of the day a plan had formed in her mind. She'd had enough of being the good girl and it was time to let her hair down and have some fun whilst she was still young. There would be plenty of time for dull boyfriends and settling down in the future.

Her plan wasn't to go on a gap year, or volunteer at an orphanage, or anything wholesome. Her rebellion was going to be sexual. Rather than discover herself in a temple in the Himalayas, Helena was going to discover herself in a sex party.

A scientist at heart, she did her research. She wasn't going to dive into anything without it. Googling 'Sex party' seemed like a good start...it wasn't. Millions of hits, mostly scams. She added 'near me'. More promising. Ignoring the sex club in her nearby town (average age 65 and possibly full of clients), she discovered a regular event in the city only 30 minutes away. It was ladies only but Helena had decided it was time for a change, maybe it would be fun to try a woman. It was also expensive, but at least the drinks were free.

Half an hour later Helena was rifling through the wardrobe for an evening dress. In the previous 30 minutes, she had made up her mind to go, signed up to the event, paid, and now realised in desperation that she needed to find a dress suitable for a classy event in only four day's time.

Clothes hit the floor as she searched for something amongst the dozens of dresses she never wore. At last, she found it. The perfect black evening dress. Classy but also suggestive, it hugged her ass and showed off her long model-like legs. The front was a deep v-cut, showing off the little cleavage she did have. Paired with a nice pair of heels, it was perfect.

Now to survive the week.

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Helena walked down the beach with the wash lapping at her feet. She looked down, puzzled. The white bikini top struggled to contain the volleyballs attached to her chest, covering a central region around her nipples but not much else. They were so obviously fake and on a skinny woman looked like they would tip her over. With each step they jiggled slightly but Helean decided she found the weight of them satisfying, almost comforting. They were large enough to stick out either side of her body and her arms brushed them with each swing.

Heads turned as she moved down the beach looking for a good spot to lay out her towel. Gawping husbands were scolded by wives. Gawping wives were tactfully ignored by husbands. Nearing the end of the beach, Helena found a space and bent down to spread the towel across the sand. Her bolted on tits hung down and wobbled as she leant over to push the corners out. Her bleached blonde hair brushed past her face to..."Hang on, I don't have...".

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Helena woke up with a start. She realised it was just a dream. "Well, that was odd, where the hell did that come from?", she thought. She realised the body she'd had in the dream was the one the pornstar had earlier in the week. She froze, then suddenly threw off the duvet cover. Her perfectly normal, flat chest greeted her.

"Damn! Thought that was too good to be true".

It was Saturday morning, the day of the party. She had all day to kill so headed down to the yard where Bilbo, her horse, was kept. As she drove into the yard she noticed a for sale sign had been put up. Tom, who owned it, had finally decided to retire, about 25 years later than he should have. She sighed. Having her own eventing yard was the dream but there was no way she could afford to buy one like this any time soon. She hoped whoever bought it wouldn't turf her out, she had stabling on the cheap thanks to being a vet.

Bilbo was the definition of bomb proof. He was just as happy performing dressage as he was jumping on a hunt meet. It was currently between seasons - fox hunting was over until autumn and the eventing season was just about to start. She had high hopes this year. All the effort training was sure to pay off with some podium finishes.

Changing into her jodhpurs, boots and helmet, Helena tacked up Bilbo and went out for a long hack. She tried to concentrate on the scenery and clean air, but the evening ahead was weighing on her mind.

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Helena approached the black door, her heels clicking on the slabs. It looked like just another Edwardian townhouse in the middle of a well-to-do area. It didn't strike her as the sort of place for a sex party. She rang the bell, anxiously adjusting her dress which had somehow started to ride up her ass in the few steps she'd taken since leaving the taxi. The door swung open revealing a well-dressed lady going on 40.

"Hey, dear," she beamed with a wide smile. "Are you here for the function? Do you have your ticket?"

"Erm, oh, yes sorry," Helena fumbled for her ticket in her purse. "Here."

"Ah, you must be Helena, the new girl! Welcome!". She beckoned Helena in and thrust a glass of something alcoholic and bubbly into her hands. "I'm Lisa, the hostess for the evening. Is this your first time at one of our events?"

"...yes. Sorry I'm a bit nervous!" Helena replied, blushing slightly.

"Not to worry dear. We won't bite...not unless you ask! So let me first explain the house rules."

Ten minutes later and equipped with the principles of being a proper human being, Helena crept into the bar area where it seemed everyone was gathered. Heads turned as the women surveyed the latest addition for potential. She forced herself to keep moving, ignoring the eyes trained on her as she strode towards the bar. Reaching the relative safety of the barstool, she ordered a drink from the barlady and allowed herself a moment to relax and take in her surroundings. The room was full of elegantly dressed women chatting in groups. It seemed most were regulars. Most were in the 40+ category too.

"I've got to be the youngest here by a decade," thought Helena. "What have I got myself into?" She started making plans for a swift exit at an opportune moment. Her plotting was interrupted.

"Hi there!" A lady lowered herself onto the bar stool next to her. "I'm Sarah.'' Helena shook the hand offered to her.

"Whaa...oh, I'm Helena. Erm..nice to meet you, Sarah." Helena's eyes were fixed on Sarah's chest. It was impossible not to look. She was wearing a corset, leaving the upper half of her large breasts exposed and on display. Any lower and her nipples would be on show.

"Hey I'm up here girl."

Helena dragged her eyes off the breasts and took in the rest of Sarah. She must have been about 30, with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail ending near her waist. She was smiling expectantly, her plump filled lips parted and revealing gleaming white teeth beneath. Taken all in, she was a vision of femininity, you could even say she was a...

"Bimbo? I can tell you were checking me out dear. Go on, you can say it. I wear that label with pride."

Helena's brain finally caught up and she found her voice. "You look stunning, Sarah. Sorry I don't know what happened then."

"I don't mind being checked out, Helena. I quite like it in fact."

"Phew. It's just, those boobs. I couldn't help it. I've never seen anyone like this before."

"That's the point! I want you to look. If you've spent this much on filling your chest with silicone, you want people to know. Besides, this is a sex party, right? Got to look my best to attract the best."

Helena blushed and downed the rest of her drink. "Drink?"

"Oh Helena, are you trying to seduce me?" Sarah giggled.

Helena smiled. Not quite Dustin Hoffman. She flagged down the barlady. "Two gin and tonics, please."

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"Well. I. Am. Drunk." Helena banged down the glass. Five drinks and two hours later, she was still talking to Sarah. By now, she felt like a friend. She'd forgotten about her plans to leave and the rest of the party had seemingly moved off and left them alone. There was just one thing they hadn't yet discussed.

"Tell me about the boobs!"

"These?" said Sarah, thrusting her chest up. "Oh I've had them for just over a year now. They've settled in nicely. You should have seen me before - flat as a board! Always wanted boobs and one day thought 'fuck it, why not' and booked myself in for a consultation. Two months later and I emerged from the surgery with 350cc of high profile implants in my chest. Best decision I've ever made. I think I'm a D now."

"High profile?"

"Oh, that's just the category of projection. High profile sticks out the most, not like real boobs. I wanted the fake look."

"Wow. Did it hurt much?"

"Like a bitch! But only for a few days. Had to take it easy for a couple of weeks but after a month I was back in the gym, only now being stared at by guys."

Helena was drunk, horny and curious. She knew it was time to take the plunge.

"You know, I'd like to see them without those clothes in the way. If you don't mind?"

"Aww, Helena, I thought you'd never ask." Sarah leant over and took Helena's chin in her hands. Slowly their faces moved together and they kissed. "But not here. Come on, follow me."

Sarah led Helena by the hand through the large doors at the end of the room into a corridor. Off the corridor were bedrooms, most occupied by the sound of the moans coming from within. They walked down the corridor until finally finding an empty room. Sarah guided her towards the bed and sat her down. She stood before her.

"Is this your first time with a woman, Helena?"

"Ye...yes. This time last week I had a boyfriend! It's been a bit of a rollercoaster."

"You just sit there and let me take the lead then. I'll show you what it's like to be pleasured by a woman. Just a warning though - you'll never go back to men after I'm finished with you."

Helena laughed, "Prove it, Sarah."

Sarah smirked as she reached behind her back and undid the clasps on the corset. It fell to the floor with a rustle, exposing her body to Helena's gaze. This time, she didn't hold back from staring and checked out Sarah's body from head to toe. She had a tiny waist too which made the bolted on breasts look even larger than they were. They looked like perfect melons, firm and well, juicy. From her angle looking up, she could make out the scars at the base of each breast, healed now and gradually fading into the surrounding skin.

"Do you like what you see?" Sarah asked, as she approached Helena, pushed her flat on the bed and straddled her.

Helena stared up from the bed, her view filled with the breasts of her dreams. "God yes."

"No, Helena. Not God. Tonight, I'm your Goddess and you are going to worship this body as I show you that you don't need another man ever again." She bent forwards, resting her arms on the bed and guiding a nipple towards Helena's mouth. "Now suck on this and make your Goddess cum."

Helena opened her mouth and gladly accepted the erect nipple from Sarah. She sucked and flicked it around her mouth with her tongue. Sarah started to moan from the stimulation, arching her back and using her free arm to pinch her other nipple.

"That's it Helena. You're a natural. Now let's take this a step further...I'm going to take your lesbian virginity. Let's see how many fingers you can take."

Sarah's arm started to slide down towards Helena's thighs. Her fingers searched until they found the edge of the dress and pulled it up. The roaming fingers then reached the band of Helena's thong, slowly sliding underneath until they reached her clitoris. Helena tensed up in anticipation as Sarah started to rub at the nub.

"Oh Helena, we're going to have some fun tonight," Sarah said. Helena felt the fingers creep forwards until they hovered above her wet and waiting pussy.