tagErotic CouplingsBig Cups to Fill

Big Cups to Fill

byJoe Average©

I reached for the alarm clock in the darkness. When I hit what I thought was the snooze button, the radio came on full blast. A moment of sleepy haze, and suddenly I was aware that I wasn't hearing the alarm clock at all. That was the buzzer to my apartment! Who'd be visiting at this hour?

When I got the clock radio in focus, I saw that it was 8:30 on Saturday morning. I struggled out of the hide-a-bed I used in my studio apartment and walked naked to the 'talkback' box on the buzzer.

"Yeah? Who is it?"

"It's Stephanie! Who were you expecting?" came a crackling feminine voice.

What was my girlfriend doing here so early on a Saturday? Thank Christ I hadn't picked up another woman last night or I'd be in deep shit right now. "Gimme a second, Steph! I'm naked," I hollered into the gadget.

"That sounds good to me!" she replied. Wise-ass, I thought, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater. As soon as I was decent, I buzzed her in.

Stephanie bustled in, dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase and a suitcase. "I'm leaving. On a business trip. I wanted to let you know."

I blinked. "Weren't we going out tonight?" I asked.

"Yes. I feel bad, and that's why I came to tell you," she continued, opening her briefcase and fishing out a gift package. "This is for you."

I was surprised. I didn't figure this occasion warranted a gift, but I wasn't about to argue. "Thanks, Steph."

"It's something to remember me by until I get back." She leaned over to kiss me, and then she whispered in my ear.

"Hey."

"What?" I whispered back.

"Don't let the underwires stab you in the balls."

With a smile, she was off.

I forgot to tell you a little bit about Stephanie. How we met. How much we have in common. How well-suited we are to each other. I didn't tell you any of that because it would be bullshit. None of it is true. We don't get along in many ways. We argue. We don't like the same things. There's only one thing that keeps us together.

Two things, actually.

Her right tit and her left.

Stephanie was a shapely brunette with two of the most massive fun bags I've seen in years of being a tit man. She's got 'em, and she knows it, and she uses 'em to keep me around. And fuck — I let her. There's nothing I like better than sucking them hard enough to make her think I'm trying to draw milk. Nibbling on her nipples as if they were Wrigley Spearmint. Jamming my face between them and waggling my head from side to side, cut off from civilization. And dropping my rock-hard prick between them and sawing away until I spew.

And she's OK with that. So she puts up with my lack of ambition, and I put up with her jealous nature. Oh, yeah. She hates me scoping other girls. It makes it tough because all of her girlfriends have knockers like hers. Have you ever noticed that? Even in high school. There's the Big Cans Clique over here, and the Itty Bitty Titty Committee over there. Girls always seeem to hang out with girls with the same size boobs. But that means I can't even talk to any of Stephanie's friends without her thinking I'm boffing them. So I'm careful. When I stray, I stray far away from her peer group. Not that I go after girls with small tits — I'm incapable of that. Huge and heavy makes me hard, so that's what I go after. I just have do it carefully. Discreetly, you know?

I looked down at the package. I unwrapped the tissue paper. It was a big black silky underwire bra. I smiled. I know what she meant. She wanted me to jerk off into that bra instead of going out in search of new big tit. Well, hell, I'll try anything once.

I looked closer... and I smelled closer. Smart. She didn't give me a new bra... this was an old one, so it reeked of Stephanie. Her perfume... her sweat... even her juices. I was starting to get excited already. I peeked at the tag. I knew Stephanie's size — but I had to look.

34EEE/G

That did it. My jeans were on the floor and the big black cups were draped over my manhood. I hunched into thin air with the cups covering my mast a few times. Then I set sail! I grabbed a handful of black silk in my fist and started sliding my bra-clad fist over my member. She was right; I did have to watch those underwires.

It didn't take long. The scent of Stephanie... the thought of those two huge doughy breasts molding themselves around my hard cock... and the ever-so-gentle friction of Steph's bra meant an enthusiastic gush in less than a few minutes. I pulled the bra away to watch the sticky liquid pour into the cup, then hurriedly stashed the bra in a closet. I decided to get on with my Saturday.

Well, it wasn't to be. Everything I looked at made me think of tits. Big tits. I mean, I didn't even have to get to any of the cliches... basketballs in the sporting goods store, watermelons at the supermarket. Anything vaguely orb shaped put mammaries on my mind. Eggs, anthills... even fluorescent orange traffic cones. And all that just made my balls ache because I knew I wouldn't be seeing Stephanie that night. As evening fell, I decided I would do my best to follow Stephanie's plan again. I'd resist the temptation to go prowling for new big tit. I just headed home and went back to that closet.

I reached for the shelf where I'd stashed Steph's big bra. It was so soft and gentle to my touch. I couldn't help but read the tag again.

34EEE/G

Once more, I was off to the races. Off came my jeans and sweater, and in an instant, bra cup number two surrounded my hardness. I set a land speed record for coming... and I think I was in the running for quantity, too. Now both cups were sticky and stained with my juice.

You'd think that would've taken the edge off.

Well, you'd be wrong. I needed some fresh mam-meat, and I needed it that night. I showered, resisting the tempation to jerk off one more time into the shower stream, and then I got dressed to go out.

At this point, being 'true' to Stephanie was out. But I wanted to show at least a little restraint. Normally, I'd go to the next town over so that whatever top-heavy babe I took home, she wouldn't know Steph. I decided instead to go to the watering hole nearest my apartment. In order to avoid any of Stephanie's friends, I figured I'd go for a more modestly-breasted female. In all the time I'd known Steph, I'd never even seen her so much as speak to any woman with even normal sized tits. Maybe big girls figure they all have that much in common; that's why they pal around together. Anyhow, I decided that even though that wouldn't be my first choice, it was my safest choice.

I took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. The bartender didn't even have to ask me what I was there for — he could tell. Helpfully, he gave me a look whenever any unescorted female came in the door. I had to work to get rid of my usual habit of looking every prospective lay right in the tits! That usually was the first item in the list of possible eliminations. I tried to see faces and, frankly, asses this time. Flaring hips and an ass I can get two hands around can almost make up for no real tits.

Did I say that? What am I, out of my mind?

Notice I said almost. Using this criterion, I soon spotted my prey. She had blonde hair cut in an almost '70s style... a feathery Loni Anderson kind of thing. Her lipstick was much too red, and her makeup was a little too heavy. Her breasts were modest, veering toward the small, even... but she had hips you could set a beer on. Knowing these were her best feature, she wore a midriff-baring red checked top that buttoned to the neck. While her top worked to show off her smooth stomach, her tight white painter's-pants jeans worked just as hard to show that delicious delineation between her hips and waist. The pants hung so low I wondered if she had to take special care to tuck her cunt hair in when she got dressed for the night. Some guys would say she had too big a caboose. Some guys are full of shit.

As soon as the bartender caught my eye to point her out, he greeted her with a wave. Great, they knew each other! Maybe she'd come sit at the bar. She did, and I scooted over.

"I'm buying whatever you're having all night long," I said, and she smiled back. "Thank you," she said. "My pleasure," I answered, quite honestly. I grinned when the bartender brought her a tap beer, just like I was having. "Might I know your name?" I said. Okay, I'm not exactly Cary Grant, but I wasn't doing too bad so far!

"Carole — with an 'e'," she said with a smile.

"Carole? Like Lombard?" I said.

"Right," said Carole, apparently impressed that I knew the name. "In the old movies, right? Smart, funny, sexy... and with the sexiest ass in Hollywood! I like to think of her as my role model."

"Well, if you're Carole, I'm Clark," I said.

"Clark Gable? I like that," she said, sipping her beer.

"Why don't we make like Gable and Lombard?" I said, trying to sound more suave than horny.

"You mean sleep together?" I checked — she was smiling.

"Yeah," I said, hoping she didn't think I was a jerk.

I guess she didn't. Carole downed the rest of her beer, and picked up her purse. "Let's go," she said.

Damn. I usually have to work harder than that.

Once in my apartment, I offered her another beer. She turned me down. "Screw the preliminaries." she smiled. "Let's screw!" I could like this girl, small tits or no.

I opened up the hide-a-bed and saw that I had changed the sheets that day. Good. Classy girls like Carole like clean sheets. She started unbuttoning my shirt. I reached to do the same for her. In record time, we were naked. I was so right about her ass. It was rounded, smooth, and soft... but not doughy and saggy. I'm not into ass-fucking, but God, did I want the head of my cock touching that ass, all over.

Carole loved my attention to her ass. She took me in her hand and gave my cock a tour of the most sensual parts of her body. To keep me focused on what was keeping me hard, she had me enter doggy-style. I grabbed the shelves of her hips and banged away.

We went a few rounds before Carole kissed me tenderly and fell asleep. She was so sweet. I felt a little like a heel for picking her up just for sex like that.

But listen — I got over it. I watched her smiling face as she slept, my eyes traveling down her body. She was lying on her back, with the sheet pulled up to her waist. It framed her modest tits. I sighed as I looked them over.

A shame, really. A girl that sexy deserved bigger cans. It would... complete the package!

I glanced over at my closet. I tiptoed out of bed and reached for Stephanie's big black bra.

Crawling back into bed, I draped the bra over Carole's boobs. The sight made me giggle a bit. The spacious cups did really dwarf her more everyday-sized knockers. Too bad, I thought, and fell asleep myself.

I woke up before dawn had broken — I wasn't sure why. I glanced over at Carole. There she was, just the way I'd left her. The blonde hair, the full painted lips in a broad smile, the enormous breasts with her black bra laying casually over them...

Wait a minute. Enormous breasts?

I looked again. It seemed impossible... but Carole's regular-girl tits had ballooned into big-girl behemoths!

How was that possible?

I reviewed the events of a few hours ago in my head. I'd draped Stephanie's bra over Carole's breasts... did I wish they were bigger? Was the bra like Aladdin's magic lamp?

Oh, come on.

Okay, okay... was it one of those Miracle Bras or Wonder Bras? The new size of Carole's boobs sure looked like a miracle. It made me wonder...

But no. Stephanie wouldn't own a bra like that. Whenever we saw them advertised on TV, Steph always took a deep breath and said, "Some of us don't need any help." Besides — those bras just made tits look bigger. Carole's boobs didn't just look bigger — they were bigger.

I knew it couldn't be anything like that. Well — what about the two colossal loads of come I'd unloaded into the bra cups the day before? Could that have created some kind of... I don't know... chemical reaction?

None of this seemed sensible. But what was I going to believe — my mind or my eyes? Those boobs simply couldn't be... but there they were. Looking absolutely scrumptious. And fuckable.

I hopped out of bed and plucked the bra off, nearly catching her hardening nipple on the strap. I stashed the bra back in the closet.

I tried not to think about how it happened, but I couldn't help it. Where had they come from? I glanced over at Carole's sleeping figure... her expanded figure. I wanted to let her sleep... but soon my obsession over how it happened was replaced by another obsession. My usual obsession with big tits. God — I couldn't keep my eyes off them. I started stroking myself to hardness, which didn't take long at all. Then I began poking and prodding her boobs with my cock, just as I had done to her ass the night before.

Carole awoke. Inexplicably, she didn't seem surprised at the new-found bounty on her torso. In fact, she just grinned a wicked grin and moved her hands to her chest to bundle those babies together.

"Go on," she teased. "Take your dagger and stab me! I dare ya."

I grunted and tried, pushing the length of my cock straight back toward her chest. "If you ever decide to stab yourself," I joked, "use a spear."

"Spear my titties right now," she encouraged.

We had so much energy for the second round, it was as if our first sex session had never happened. And in some supernatural way — maybe it didn't.

When morning came, Carole dressed her busty body in the outfit she'd worn the night before. She barely noticed the way the undersides of her big boobs were peeking out from beneath the calico top. She kissed me hungrily, and undulated her ample chest against mine, reveling in the stimulating squishing sensations. She turned to me on her way out the door and said, "I hope we can see each other again, Clark."

I'd nearly forgotten I had told her that was my name. "I hope so, too, Carole," I smiled. But I doubted it.

Sunday didn't go any better than Saturday. No matter what I tried to get done, all I could think of was sex, sex, sex, and more specifically, tits, tits, tits. I decided to go on the prowl again, even though it was only lunchtime. There must be some girl out there who'd be up for action at this hour.

Before I left the house... I got Stephanie's bra out of the closet again. If I picked up another girl with a regular-sized chest... would the magic work a second time? It didn't matter that it made absolutely no logical sense. I just had to try it. But I couldn't figure out if the magical secret ingredient was Steph's silky bra or my sticky come. What to do? Like the ballplayer who doesn't change his socks when he's on a winning streak, I decided I couldn't take any chances. I had to duplicate the conditions of the night before.

I dropped my jeans and prepared to fill those king sized cups once again. To prime the pump... I took a look at the size tag.

34EEE/G

Damn. It didn't matter how many times I'd seen it. That always set me off. It wasn't easy, but I refreshed the supply and put the bra back into its hiding place.

I stopped into a local place known for its Sunday champagne brunch. I spotted a cute black college girl, sitting alone with a cup of coffee, a plate full of bacon, sausage, eggs, and home fries, and the Sunday paper. She had close-cropped curly hair, full lips, and a luminous smile. She wore a crisp white Oxford cloth button-down shirt, with tight chinos, and on unexpected pair of high heels in place of the usual sneakers. Small boobs, but radiantly beautiful. I brazenly walked up to her table.

"Buy you a glass of champagne?" I offered.

She giggled. "Big spender! The champagne is free with the brunch!"

I sat down at her table. "Well, is that a yes or a no?"

She smiled. "Okay, yeah," she agreed, and I motioned for the waitress. "So who are you, walking up to strange girls in the middle of the day?"

"Oh, are you a strange girl?" I responded. She laughed a little. "Never mind that," I said, hoping I was coming off charming. "Who are you?"

She held out her hand. "Name's Whitney," she said.

She expected a handshake; I gave her hand a kiss. "Whitney? I'm Denzel," I said.

She knew my reference to the stars of The Preacher's Wife was some kind of wisecrack, but she seemed to like it. "I never met a white man named Denzel before!" she laughed.

"Whitney, if it would get you to go to bed with me," I said, "I'll have whatever name you want!"

She stopped to consider what I'd said — but she never stopped smiling. Suddenly she stood. "Take me home, Denzel," she said, walking toward the door to the restaurant. I paid the bill and hurried after her.

Once behind the closed doors of my apartment, this cute college babe turned into a tigress — clearly as horny as I was. We peeled off our clothes and attacked one another, without even stopping to open up the hide-a-bed. Which was a good thing, since it was still a little damp from Carole. We necked on the carpet, and in two shakes, Whitney was kissing her way down my body and getting ready to take my cock in her mouth.

She could have taught a course in oral sex. The softness of her lips, in combination with the nipping action of her tongue and teeth inspired amazing fluid production in my balls. Whitney drank every drop and then enthusiastically teased me for more.

After two tireless hours, she fell asleep on the carpet.

I covered her with a quilt so she wouldn't be cold. Just before I pulled the fabric over her chest — I looked at her average-to-small breasts. Again, it seemed a shame. They were bouncy, sexy breasts, with an exotic hue and texture to her nipples... they just weren't as big as I like them.

I thought about the bra in the closet. It couldn't possibly work. Lightning wouldn't strike a second time.

But suppose it would — and I hadn't tried it?

I had to test the hypothesis. Telling myself it was a scientific experiment that simply had to be performed, I tiptoed to the closet and took out Stephanie's bra. I draped the oversize garment on Whitney's chest.

I sat back. I was determined to watch, to find out how and if this magic worked. But I, too, fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes again, two massive chocolate brown wobblers rose from mid-Whitney. Shit! It happened again! This was powerful magic that I had no business questioning.

Besides, I didn't want to question it. I just wanted to enjoy the results! I decided to wake Whitney by putting my oral talents up against hers. I took a nipple between my lips and sucked.

Whitney's eyes opened. Without thinking twice, she grabbed the back of my head and pulled me closer, filling my mouth with soft and delicious titty.

Since we'd gotten such an early start, Whitney and I had a chance to explore the many uses for huge breasts that I know and love. Tit fucking, tit sucking, every variation on holding and working them while we fucked... and much, much more. I couldn't tell if she was surprised at her new size... but she certainly was pleased!

When morning came, Whitney dressed. "Look," she laughed, indicating her Oxford cloth shirt. "It won't stay buttoned!"

"That's for easy access!" I laughed, reaching underneath for one more feel.

"Goodbye, Denzel," she teased as she let herself out.

"Goodbye, Whitney," I said, truly dissappointed that I'd never see her again. But a pickup is a pickup. Stephanie was my girlfriend.

That afternoon at work, Stephanie called. "Hey, lover. Miss me?"

"You know I did," I said, hoping it sounded true.

"Did you... take my advice?" she said, with mischief in her voice.

"I did!" I said, dropping my voice to a whisper. "I hope you don't want that... item back! It's completely ruined."

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byJoe Average© 5 comments/ 86644 views/ 27 favorites

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