Frontal Lobes

Melanie was on stage doing her 'In the Navy' act, and had just removed the sailor's hat from her starboard breast when I saw one Ebony escorting a gorgeous latin woman towards the bar. She was dressed for the weather outside, which meant she was wearing more than every other woman in the joint put together, but I could still see the outlines of an astounding pair of boobs. Some of the guys at the tables even stopped watching Melanie's navel maneuvers as she passed, and Melanie's torpedo tits could stiffen a coil of rope. I silently prayed that the girl was looking for a job; nobody would come in here just to get a drink.

"Dave, this is Consuela. She's looking for a job."

I looked at the latina more closely. Her hair was long and black, but only slightly darker than her eyes, and her face was so pretty that I almost forgot about her tits for several seconds. Then I glanced at Melanie, watching her wrapping her humungous hooters around the corner-post of the stage, while a pair of Marines inserted greenbacks into her already stuffed garters. Consuela looked around, and we watched the show for nearly a minute. "Have you danced before?" I asked.

"A little," she replied.

"In the nude?"

"Yes."

"I'll have to see you strip, first," I said, trying to keep my voice level. You might think that I'd lose interest in women after running a strip joint for five years; believe me, I haven't. We've had some of the bustiest and most beautiful dancers in the business here, but the thrill of seeing yet another big pair of boobs still hits me every time.

Consuela looked me up and down. "You're the boss?"

"Sure. My real bartender called in, uh, sick." Fortunately, I kept bar in college, and it doesn't take much talent to water a whisky; all the customers are too busy watching the show to notice what they're drinking. "Come into my office."

"It's okay, honey," said Ebony. "He really is the boss. Honest."

* * *

She started undressing as soon as she'd closed the door. "Hold on a -" I began, and then she pulled her sweater and T-shirt over her head in one move, and I sat there for a moment with my mouth hanging open. Before I could say anything more, she'd unfastened her bra and released two of the biggest, roundest, firmest boobs I'd ever seen; they swayed hypnotically as she walked towards me, and suddenly one of them was bumping against my mouth and demanding entrance. The wonderful female taste and smell was better than hours of mere watching, and I felt my cock stiffen until it threatened to rip my jeans. I began sucking and nibbling on that lovely coffee-colored nipple, feeling it swell and harden under my tongue until it felt as big as a shot glass. Wonderful visions flowed through my mind, images of those titanic tits wrapped lovingly around my pulsing cock, of them bouncing and swaying as she straddled me, of Consuela holding them up to her face so she could lick my cum off of them...

Suddenly, I remembered that I was supposed to be giving a job interview, and managed to stop sucking. "Hey!" I said. "If I was just hiring knockers, you'd have the job right now, but I need to know if you can dance, too."

She looked at me strangely, and then laughed. "Okay. You're the boss." The music was soft in the office, but she caught the rhythm of it well enough, swaying and gyrating. Those beautiful bra-busting brown boobs bobbed before my face, and I felt like an idiot for having pushed her away. She grabbed them, pointed them at me, and then pushed them up to her face and slowly licked her fat hard nipples. "I saw the girl on stage doing this," she said, innocently, between licks. "Is this okay?" I nodded dumbly. She grinned, then leaned over and unzipped my jeans. My cock sprang out without any other prompting. "I saw her doing this, too," she said, as she squeezed those sweet fuckable funbags around my throbbing dick, forming a wonderful warm tunnel.

I've titfucked a lot of girls, of course, including some of the dancers, and I pride myself on being able to hold off my orgasm until the girl has cum at least twice, but the sensory overload was just too much; it felt like all the best moments of a lifetime of titfucking were being squeezed into a few seconds, and a moment later I was spurting goo all over her pretty face and beautiful boobs. She grinned, and began licking it off.

"Do I get the job?"

I took a deep breath, then nodded. "You can start tomorrow. Two weeks trial run."

"Great. Two things I need..."

"You do? I mean, what?"

"I need to be paid in cash; I don't have a bank account, or any ID." I nodded. "And is it okay if I wear a mask?" I stared. "Just a small mask," she explained. "A - what do they call it - a domina?"

"I think you mean 'domino'", I replied. "At least, I hope you do. Yeah, should be okay, if you can make it part of your costume..."

"I can make it all of my costume."

I blinked, trying to imagine that, and felt my cock trying to rise to the occasion again. Consuela laughed, and then peeled off her jeans, turned around, then spread her legs and bent over to show off her pussy, the way she'd seen Melanie do. I tried to stand, but my knees buckled, and I fell face-first into her sweet-smelling snatch.

* * *

That night, I dreamed about the first time I got to see and feel bare tit, back in junior high, the mystical, almost magical feeling of it filling my hand, of the nipple peeking out between my fingers, of the smooth creamy softness...

It was morning before I realised what was wrong in the dream. My date back then was a blonde, with pointy pouting titties and tiny pink nipples. The tit in my dream was round and coffee-coloured, the nipple chocolate-brown and huge. Consuela's delicious nipple. Consuela's wonderful tit.

* * *

A week later, I was glad to discover that Connie was getting on well with the rest of the girls - especially Ebony, who likes women just as much as I do. I learnt that by walking in on them. Connie was kneeling between Ebony's legs, rubbing her magnificent milk-jugs over Ebony's pussy, fucking her with those tremendous tits. Neither of them noticed me standing in the doorway, though I swear I watched them for at least a minute; Connie had her back to me, and Ebony was much too busy cumming. I shut the door quietly, and walked back to my office, wishing like Hell I could put that show on stage without getting busted. I walked back to the office, but I was much too horny to work, so I called Melanie in and paid for some private dancing. She tittyfucked me the way Connie had, and it was great, but there wasn't the same rush that there had been when Connie did it. I tipped Melanie, leaned back in my chair, and tried to think. What was it that made Connie so different? Was it just the way she enjoyed having her boobs fucked, and sucked, and fondled? Or was there something else about her, something she had and other girls didn't?

I started taking Connie out to dinner, with Ebony usually making it a threesome, but I didn't realise just how special she was until after closing time one night. I was chatting with Ebony in the bar, while Connie did her make-up in the dressing room, and two ugly guys in dark suits and dark glasses walked in. I was about to tell them that we were shut and I wasn't interested in The Book of Mormon, when one of them pulled a Luger out of his armpit.

"I think you guys have the wrong bar," I said, weakly, as the other guy shut the door behind them. The gunman told me to shut up, and I did. He looked Ebony up and down, then told her to show him his tits, and after a moment's hesitation, she did.

"Scheise," said the other. "Much too small. I told you it wasn't her."

Ebony drew herself up to her full 5'4" and stuck her 44" boobs out indignantly, when Connie walked out of the dressing room. The guys turned and looked at her, and I edged a little closer to the cash register and my shotgun.

Connie looked back defiantly at the two goons, then tore her blouse open. I was thinking that she was wasting her time - Ebony's tits hadn't even made them smile - but she grabbed both her breasts as though they were squeeze-guns, holding them up to her face, then ran her tongue slowly over her fat brown nipples.

Despite my panic, I could feel myself getting turned on; watching, I could almost taste Connie's thimble-sized nipple rolling around the tip of my tongue. Suddenly, I realised it wasn't me getting horny, it was her; I could feel what she was feeling. I looked at Ebony, and saw that Connie was having the same effect on her; she was breathing heavily, her nipples were sticking out like hitch-hikers' thumbs, and I could smell the sweet perfume of hot moist pussy. I stared at her, feeling an enormous urge to suck all of that bodacious brown jug into my mouth, and then saw past her to the two goons. The effect Connie's performance was having on us was nothing compared to what it was doing to them.

The guy with the gun was waving it like his arm was made of silly putty. He wasn't walking very well, either, and the only part of him that was noticeably rigid was his cock. The guy by the door seemed to be shaking uncontrollably. Then Connie shrieked with pleasure and they both gasped, and I saw a darker patch spreading over the first gunman's crotch as he came in his pants.

Connie stood there, still making herself cum until the orgasms were ricocheting off the walls. The men were kneeling on the ground now, reduced to jelly and unable to stop cumming, and though I was shaking too, I managed to walk around the bar and grab Number One's gun before he could hurt himself or anyone important. Number Two actually tried to shoot at me, but he'd left the safety on: taking it was easier than taking candy from a baby, but I kicked him in the balls anyway.

* * *

The goons had been smart enough to bring their own handcuffs, so at Connie's suggestion, we stripped them, cuffed them, and dumped them in an alley behind a leather bar in Christopher Street. Then we headed back to my place, and hit the shower. "What the fuck was all that about?" I asked, at last.

"It's hard to explain," murmured Connie. "For one thing, I don't speak much English."

"You speak -" and then, for the first time, I watched her lips as she talked, instead of her tits. "You're not speaking English at all, are you?"

"No. I'm a telepath."

Like I said, I went to college, once. "You read minds?"

She nodded. "Sometimes, and other people can read mine. Feelings are easier than thoughts, and it works best if I touch you..." And she pushed my head down between her stunning soapy boobs; I was about to struggle, but a second later, I was overwhelmed with memories. No, not mammaries, memories. Memories of a laboratory, an operating theatre, a white-haired man in a white coat, a jungle, guards with sub-machine guns and swastika armbands...

and memories, also, of love, and of sex better than I'd ever had, sex that seemed to last forever, expert oral sex, and wonderful, wonderful, titfucking...

* * *

Consuela told me the rest of the story later, with Ebony acting as interpreter. Many years ago, in Bolivia, Josef Mengele and his students had stumbled onto the secret of creating telepathic brain cells, and had tried grafting them on to human brains. Unfortunately, there was a 'critical mass' effect: you needed much more cells than could fit in the skull, or it didn't work. So one of the students suggested putting them elsewhere in the body... and so, they'd implanted two 'brains' in Consuela's breasts. They weren't exactly inconspicuous there, but when a man sees a woman with a 56FFF figure, telepathy isn't the first thing that pops into his mind.

The experiment hadn't quite worked the way they expected. Consuela couldn't read minds unless the subject was actually touching her breasts, preferably with his head between them, but her mind and emotions were as readable as a neon sign for a lot of people with a little latent telepathy - people who usually just think of themselves as 'good guessers'. One of her guards had fallen in love with her, and died while helping her escape. She was still trying to hide from the Neo-Nazis, and she was scared they'd be waiting for her at her room. I told her she could stay with me for as long as she liked, but she shook her head, then grabbed mine and Ebony's, holding them close to her tits so she could talk to both of us. "I haven't told you everything. I'm not just hiding - there are people who would hide me, if that was all I wanted - but I'm hunting, too."

"Hunting?"

"I wasn't the only telepath to escape. They had to close the lab after Mengele died. I don't know where the other girls went, but I want to find them before the Nazis do."

* * *

I sold the bar, moved to San Francisco and opened another. Ebony went on the road, and Connie's still in hiding. We've been searching for the other telepaths for two years now, but none of us have gotten lucky. That's why we need your help.

Some of you must have seen them - young women with big beautiful boobs and permanently hard chewable nipples, women so sexy they can make you cum in your pants from across the room without even touching you... Please, if you know where they are, write in and tell me.

END