Berlin Turing Test: 1 Man, 3 Women

"Well, Ladies..." I said, "... in any such case it's not YOUR fault, or your body's fault. It's your lover's fault. He's being monumentally disrespectful and inconsiderate. The mark of an incompetent amateur! I meant it when I said just now that any woman can do it ... and should demand it!"

Carla looked around again: "Well, this mall certainly IS an odd place for such a conversation. But it is nice to be able to be so blunt for a change! I find it useful and very informative." Vera nodded vigorously. Carla finished up "And of course it makes me instantly jealous of all your other women! Doesn't it, Vera?"

Vera blushed slightly, muttered "Very! I believe we should go into the store now!"

We were met by a hostess who had been standing in the doorway, a tiny, darkly-attractive 30-ish woman. She had obviously overheard a bit, and started right out in nearly-perfect English. She and the girls at once shifted into German, had a fast, whispered confab. She laughed delightedly at something, glanced at me, nodded several times. Finally she turned to me and said - "Lucky day for you, Mein Herr! Your two beautiful ladies have decided to put on a show for you as they shop. I doubt that you will be bored. Let us all go into dressing room number three."

This store knew its customer base and how to treat it. It was an actual room, private, the size of a reasonable bedroom. There was a single comfortable easy chair against one wall, obviously meant for male occupancy, which faced a two-meter tall Japanese shoji-style screen of translucent white scrim. A small table, a little refrigerator, a couple of cabinets, wall-shelves and hooks.

The hostess extracted a bottle of champagne from the fridge, three glasses from the cabinet, opened and poured, saying "When shopping for nice things, it's never too early for champagne. I'd join in but it's not allowed on duty." When we had toasted ourselves and the occasion, she said "Very well now, I understand it will be swimsuits, panties, and bras today. For both ladies. Therefore..."

Here, she reached into the cabinet, came up with a large water-pistol and a small silver bell.

"Therefore, you should take your time! There is never any hurry here. I will bring a selection of items for your ladies to try on, and when you want either help or more items just ring gently on the bell."

Vera eyed the water-gun. "What in the world is THAT thing for?"

The hostess grinned broadly. "Good underwear properly worn can affect some men quite strongly. This is for you to use to cool him down if he gets overheated! Of course, any true gentlemen will depart this room entirely dry: but what happens after that is simply NOT the store's responsibility, is it? Now, our first order of business is to get both ladies properly measured, since most women simply do NOT know their own sizes – especially for underwear!"

She looked at me: "Would Mein Herr care to make a guess at brassiere specifications?"

I looked back and forth at the girls, told them to stand tall, turn around once. I gave it my best shot: "Both are C-ups. Almost identical, but not quite. I think Vera is probably a 35-inch, that is, 87 or 88 cm, but Carla is about an inch larger, say 90 cm."

"My goodness!" said the hostess as the girls eyed one another in surprise – "...a connoisseur. I don't think you've missed by much, if at all! Good eye."

"Decades of non-stop practice, Mesdames!" I told them.

"Well, we need to confirm it anyhow" said the hostess, pulling out her measuring tape. "Shall we all three women step behind the scrim?"

When they were out of sight, there was another brief flurry of German. The hostess' head appeared around the edge: "They have agreed to something rather special: we will turn on the lights in the wall behind us. You will see why, and I believe you'll like it!"

The lights came on: the women were now silhouetted sharply against the scrim – shadow-puppet theater! I applauded.

The hostess, out of sight, said "I thought you'd like it! Now, ladies, we need you nude from the waist up to begin, so that I can get all the measurements correctly. If you need them during modeling, feel free to use those robes on the hooks over there."

My crotch brittled instantly as the girls began their strip: the shadows were amazingly sharp – nipples showed perfectly as the girls moved about. I wondered if they had any idea at all just how good a view I was getting? Perhaps they had been here before, and knew EXACTLY? Who, then, would be in the lead in the flirting game?

The measuring was done in silence, the tape going under, over, around, scribbles on a note-pad. "Almost identical!" said the hostess to the girls. "The same within two centimeters, and the same cup. Two centimeters is trivial, a small part of one deep breath, so you two girls can wear the same size in chest and cup – that's very convenient for sisters!"

Then, raising her voice so it would carry well to me, she said "Bravo, Mein Herr! You were off by no more than a centimeter in each case, and the cup is correct. Good eyes indeed! Perhaps we should offer you a job here?"

I laughed, replied that I'd been studying this particular topic intensely since age five, which meant a very long time, and that I would gladly accept even a part-time position if the shop could get me a work permit.

The girls giggled.

The hostess stepped around the screen, smiled wickedly at me and traced the clear, sharp outline of a Carla-boob with her fingertip, made a flicking motion at the nipple.

I grinned back, nodded silently.

She announced "Ladies, I will now bring in a selection of underwear, and bras, and swimsuits. You can try things on as long as you wish, there is no hurry whatever. After all, there's a rule in selling, the more you let the customer look, the more they will buy! Remember, ring gently on the little bell if you require either help or more things to try on. Enjoy yourselves. Have more champagne!"

The girls, nude to the waist, remained behind the screen as we waited: I handed their glasses over the top of the scrim and we toasted to a successful mission. The hostess quickly returned with quite an armload, set it down in three piles on the sideboard behind the screen, and left again.

The shadow-show as the girls stripped fully naked was spectacular; blouses, bras, shorts, panties all casting razor-sharp shadows, as did various bodily planes and bulges and gullies. Likewise as they selected and donned what were obviously rather skimpy panties, and sorted through the selection of bras. I watched intently, and my cock threatened to burst its confinement.

There was a flurry of activity behind the screen, and some rapid-fire discussion in German. Even with the shadow-show I couldn't really tell what was happening. Finally a voice floated out: "Josh," said Carla, "... we have an argument about both comfort and sexiness in brassieres. We are sorry to begin our modeling for you with an argument, but sisters almost always disagree on lots of things, you know. Comfort you cannot help us evaluate, but as to sexiness you certainly can!"

Carla wrapped herself in a customer-robe, picked up two bras, and stepped out from behind the screen. The robe draped like a coat of paint, and her nipples stood up proudly and un-concerned. Vera stayed behind the screen, still sharply silhouetted.

Carla held out the bras and said "These two are completely different things! We have very different ideas about what is comfortable and what is sexy. Most especially about sexy!"

I looked at the merchandise – what a contrast! One pushup bra and a very nearly invisible wispy little thing. I shrugged and took the opportunity to extend the flirting farther yet: "Hard to tell when they're empty! Why don't each of you put on one and start the show that way? Maybe with them properly filled out I can give you a valid opinion! Sexiness, after all, really requires that the devices be properly filled!"

Carla nodded, Vera said "OK! Good idea!" Carla turned, stopped cold when she saw Vera's shadow on the screen. She stared, then looked at me.

I shrugged, grinned, said quietly "Our hostess was right – in fact, I DO like it!"

She finally tilted her head sideways very gamine, and nodded. "I can see why, too! Such DETAILS!" Then, grinning, she disappeared behind the screen, and said not a word to Vera.

Moments later, the girls stepped out and stood together in front of the screen: they had donned identical – and for this store rather demure – panties. Hemi-semi-demi-demure, but also small enough and transparent enough to make it clear that there had been some high-quality – and recent – bikini waxing: two nearly identical mounds with close-cropped central patches and squeaky-clean edges. Twin-like again.

What that view did to my crotch is easily imagined.

Carla stated the bra question: "These are completely different brassieres: different philosophies, perhaps? Now that they are "filled", you should tell us, which one do YOU prefer? Which 'philosophy' is sexier for you?"

Carla's bra was the wispy-thin one, functionally-transparent beige and no-frills construction, like those sold, when I was a teenager, under the brand-name 'Little-Nothing'. No wires, no padding, just some containment and a little soft support, and so transparent as to mimic nudity. My idea of a good time! Her nipples and areolas were visible through the fabric, edges of areolas peeking out from beneath the edge selvage, nipples brilliantly erect. Vera's bra was the polar opposite, a modern 'push-me-up' affair that permitted no movement whatever and produced an utterly unnatural shape. No nipple, much less an areola, was ever going to make its presence known through THAT material!

I got slightly cute: "First, ladies, I need to know – am I judging the bras, or their contents? One way you get an opinion, the other way lies madness and danger - I refuse to put my life in jeopardy! No "Judgment of Paris" problems for me!"

They laughed. "Judge the BRAS, you silly man. That's what we hired you for! You probably couldn't tell our boobs apart anyhow!" said Vera, sticking her tongue out at me as she finished.

I didn't hesitate: "That's a challenge I would mightily enjoy- perhaps sometime a little later? Meanwhile, as to bras, I choose Carla's little-nothing. There's no comparison. All push-ups make any woman look completely un-natural – no real-world boob ever had that shape!"

They eyed one another and Carla stuck her tongue out at her sister: apparently she'd won the point.

I can actually do a little hootchy-kootch shimmy: I demonstrated for them, saying "Both of you try doing this!" Both girls got the motion just fine – but of course, only Carla's boobs shimmied. Vera's hardly moved, and certainly developed no resonance.

"Which of those do you think most men would prefer to watch?" I asked.

They nodded. Vera frowned, made a moue, and stepped over to the big, oak-framed cheval glass: she adjusted it, stepped back a bit, bounced on her toe-tips, studied the lack of jiggle. I studied the mirror instead: its new position was intriguing – with a little shift of my butt in the chair, I would be able to see behind the screen. I wondered if it was intentional? Vera's actions said 'accident', but...

Then Vera shrugged and turned to face us: "He's right, you know."

I suggested that perhaps they should exchange bras so that each would have experienced both styles. They agreed, stepped back behind the screen. I shifted my butt. The angle was right, and the three-D show was a great improvement over an already fine 2-D shadow-puppetry. Boobs came free, bras were exchanged. As Carla shook herself into the rigid bra, she glanced into the mirror and our eyes locked. We held like that for half a second, then she stuck her tongue out at me, tapped Vera's arm, pointed to me in the reflection. Vera jumped slightly, then - very sangre-froid - she smiled cutely and continued settling her boobs into the Little Nothing. They stepped out together from behind the scrim, watching for my reactions.

There was a rather pregnant pause, and I ventured out onto the ice, testing, pushing hard on the ultimate borders of mere flirtation. Dangerous ground. "May I touch?"

They looked at one another, then back at me and nodded. Border crossing approved by the authorities – visa granted!

I reached out and cupped my fingertips beneath one boob each, being as respectful and neutral as I could manage: I hefted, tried to make both boobs jiggle. Only the little-nothing responded.

"See the difference? Ladies, this push-up looks like some sort of medieval torture apparatus! Tres Quasimodo, the Inquisition, and all that. You'll never get a wiggle out of your body wearing it. Who'd want such a thing!? For me, and lots of men, one of the big attractions about boobs is how they change shape and shift about, a new shape every moment. I love watching the "dialog" between gravity and tissue whenever you move. The difference in a boob's shape between when you're standing erect and when you're leaning over is profound, and watching the change is just erotic as hell. This push-up thing is practically armor-plating, unnatural as cast-iron, and eliminates all that sexy, attractive movement. The little one does not!"

I paused with my fingertips still supporting the breast-bellies, gently settled the balls of my thumbs atop their respective nipples, and did a long, slow tweak. In its Little Nothing, Carla's nipple stood up instantly and begged for attention: she bit her lip but didn't flinch as goose-bumps flooded her upper arms. Of course, I couldn't even detect the push-up's nipple.

I grinned. "Obviously ONE of you can feel my touch. Again, which of these bras is likely to give not just visual but also tactile pleasure to both parties, male and female? I rest my case!"

Ever so slowly, I first lifted my thumbs and then broke contact entirely – with the appropriate genuine show of reluctance. "But there's a philosophical problem for me in saying so strongly which one I prefer..."

"And that problem is...?" asked Vera, after a deep breath.

"Well, my personal opinion is that the best place for a bra, the only 'proper' place, is on the floor beside the bed."

They gave little smiles at that.

"However, maybe you'd like to know that IF there has to be a bra on my woman –temporarily, you understand! - then this particular Little Nothing has a specific feature that I heartily approve of. Namely, front closure."

The girls looked puzzled: Vera glanced down at her chest, then back up at me: "Why?"

I grinned. "Because I like to open and remove brassieres using just my mouth. Then I drop them on the floor, of course, where they belong! After all, ladies' backs certainly have their attractions and fascinations, but if I have to press my face against you, which side do you think I'd prefer? I find fronts much more satisfying, and most women agree."

The women eyed one another for a few seconds, and suddenly Vera turned fuchsia, then said quickly "I don't believe you can do that. DO IT! Right here, right now! I want proof."

She stepped forward, thrusting her chest towards my face. The border-crossing was far behind us now, wasn't it! If this was mere flirtation, then I'd met my equal or better!

"Jeez, Vera!" said Carla, in real surprise bordering on shock - and then stopped to watch.

I was seated, my eyes were at nipple-height, my mouth even with the closure, perfect for such an exercise. I looked up at Vera, past her boobs: "Are you quite serious?"

She nodded, her lower lip firmly clipped between her incisors, eyes unnaturally wide and round, pupils huge, her throat and chest flushed.

"Avec plaisir!" –- I leaned forward: ten seconds later the bra was open and the cups, empty and therefore now shapeless, were dangling between her arms and ribs, completely freeing her lovely breasts. Her areolas were darker than they had been just a moment earlier, and distinctly more crinkled. They were also off-round, lozenge-shaped, with the upper ends pointed slightly laterally, giving her chest almost a pair of eye-marks.

I mouthed one shoulder-strap, pulled it to the side with my teeth and let go, then repeated: the bra slid down behind her to the floor. Fifteen seconds, max. I looked up at her again: she had a slightly glazed look, muttered softly "Wow! An expert!"

I seized the initiative, started my face forward again, moving slowly so as to give her time enough to stop me or protest, but she didn't. I took one nipple into my mouth and suckled. Beside us, out of my field of view, Carla gasped deeply: I managed to ignore it. Vera's whole breast lifted and hardened significantly – she was VERY sensitive. I made the best of it, catching the enlarged, hardened nipple between tongue and palate baby-style. Huge swarms of goose-bumps flooded her back and arms and thighs. I moved to the other nipple, spent perhaps twenty seconds nursing, then released and backed off slightly.

"But ladies, it's impossible for me to put a bra back ON with my teeth!"

Neither responded. Instead, Vera closed her eyes, took a long, shuddery breath and said quietly "I've never had my nipples kissed like that before. MUCH LESS by an almost perfect stranger! OR in front of my own sister, for heaven's sake! And almost in PUBLIC, too! What are you doing to us, Doktor?" She shook herself, making her boobs wobble, then grinned broadly at Vera and said to the world at large, in a dreamy voice, "No complaints, you understand..."

Carla studied Vera's pebble-hard glistening-wet nipples, thought for a second or two, then gently shoved her aside, took her place. "I demand equal time!" It was Vera's turn to gawp momentarily.

It didn't take five seconds for my fingers to figure out the push-up's rear buckle, sight unseen. The bra dangled awkwardly down the front of Carla's chest, not allowing me any boob-access at all. I grinned up at her: "See what I mean? It's an obstruction, not a help or an enticement. Move it out of my way, please!"

Carla didn't hesitate, just raised it collar-bone high, asked "Far enough?" I gave her nipples equal treatment, then had her hold the bra overhead at arm's-length and added a long, sensuous full-tongue lick down the length of one armpit. She shivered violently and dropped the bra onto the floor.

"God! I think I could have an orgasm just from this! You are very, very good at it!" she exclaimed through her own flocks of bumps. Vera stood there and watched the tableau in silence.

I pulled back, not wanting to quit but definitely not wanting to overdo things or outstay my actual welcome – or, heaven forbid, play favorites. Most such unexpected opportunities favor the well-prepared, and especially the patient, participant. "You might notice, ladies, that both bras are now where they belong! And coming that way is an interesting thought! Coming just from nipple stimulation is a REAL rarity. Having multiple orgasms is not. If you could actually come from nipples-only, Carla, you'd be only the second I've encountered in a lifetime of painstaking research! It would be fun to try. But I'll bet you that if I were allowed to nurse properly for ten minutes, even if you didn't actually come, I'd get some very interesting fluids. You ladies might not even know the stuff is in there, but it is!"

They went red yet again, but neither made any move to cover up - they just stood there facing me, watching me inspect and admire two almost identical pairs of breasts with even more nearly identical sets of slanted areolas. Strong genetics at work producing some truly delightful scenery.

"Amazing! Quadruplets! No way could I tell you two apart in the dark!"

Vera giggled, shimmied a bit, then said "It could be worse! Mom's tits are in very good shape, too, so if she were here there'd be sextuplets to confuse you! But she can shimmy much better than we can, so that's one way you could tell us apart."