The Bra Salesman Ch. 11

It's a little cramped as we both squeeze inside her glass shower booth, but it doesn't take long for the hot water to steam up the air. She lathered up her hands with some body wash and rubbed her hands all over my torso and back. I lathered up my hands and rubbed her breasts and her tits and her boobs. I guess I should wash some other parts of her body, but goddamn my hands do not want to leave those amazingly awesome chest of hers.

My hands do somehow manage to find their way to her arms and back, but then they get stuck again gripping her ass and pulling her wet body into mine. The shower continues to tenderly pelt us with warm water, and I give her a long, loving kiss as I caress her back. But one of my hands finds its way down to her crotch and washes her pubic hair. She smiles at me as I start lathering her pussy, and by the time my fingers enter her lips, she is gasping in delight.

She returns the favor by lathering up my stiff cock, and I can feel my cock pounding in her hand as it moves up and down. We give each other another long kiss, and then I spin her around and press her against the wall of the shower. With one hand I lift her left leg and with the other I reach around and grasp her right breast. She holds herself steady by holding on to the top of the glass shower wall while her other hand reaches down and guides my dick into her eager pussy.

As soon as the tip of my penis penetrates her, I grind my hips so that I move in and out of her.

She throws her head back on to my shoulder so that her drenched hair covers my face. I squeeze her tit hard as I pull her body down on top of my cock, and I can feel her spreading her pussy so that I can enter her.

Now she is moving up and down in opposite rhythm with my gyrations, and as the water from the shower head continues to beat down on both of our bodies, the slap of our skin against each other fills the stall. "Unnnngh!" she moans, and I begin hammering her harder.

"UNGH! UNGH!" I can feel the walls of her vagina pulsing and wrapping around my cock as I shove myself deeper and deeper into her. "UNGH! YES! UNGH! YES! YES!" Our bodies are united in carnal lust and my fingers dig into her thigh in hopes of spreading her legs even further so that I can drive myself as hard and as deep as possible, and I can feel her trying to accommodate me and welcome me into her deepest areas. "UNGH! UNNNNNGH! YES! YES! YES! YES!!"

I am pummeling her crotch as hard as possible and she is driving her body down as hard as she can in response. "YES! YES! UNNNGH!" I look up for a moment and, through the steam and the watery glass wall, I can see our bodies in the mirror. "UNGH! YES! UNGH! YES!" Most of her body is pressed against the glass wall, and her tits are bulging against the glass so much that the outline of her nipple can be easily made out. "UNGH! UNGH!"

Lines of water are streaming down both our bodies as the shower water mixes with our sweat, and the steam almost matches the heat of friction between our bodies as we slap and grind against each other in erotic pleasure. "UNGH! UNGH! YES! UNNNNNNNGH!" My cock is pulsing inside her and the slap of my groin against her buttocks keeps echoing in the stall.

"UNGH! UNGH!" I can feel the urge to cum, and I do my best to resist it, wanting this moment to go on as long as possible. "YES! YES! UNGH!" But before I want it to, I feel the cum explode from my cock and shoot inside her, and she must be able to feel the streams of jism filling her because I hear her moan in orgasmic bliss. "UNNNNNNNNGH!"

My body immediately goes weak, and I release the grip I had on her thigh and breast. I have to brace myself against the sides of the shower just to keep from collapsing. She turns around and has the biggest smile I've ever seen on her, and I've seen some pretty fucking terrific smiles on her. She tosses her arms around my waist and gives me several lingering kisses that make my damp skin tingle in excitement.

She was the one who finally turned off the shower, since I was more than happy to spend the rest of my life in that stall, and we stood there soaked and dripping with our arms around each other and feeling each other's bodies as if it were the first time.

We put on robes and ordered some take out from a nearby Chinese place while I complained about work, but by the time we devoured half our dinners, we swapped mischievous looks and were ready to devour each other all over again. I carried her to the bedroom and threw her on top of the bed. As I climbed on top of her, we tore at each other's robes until they were a tangled mess on the floor.

I pressed my body down on hers and felt her enormous tits pushing back against my chest as we kissed each other over and over. Using only my hips, I navigated my stiff cock into her crotch and she spread her legs wide so that I could slowly push myself into her hungry pussy.

And then I did something I had never done with any other woman ever in my life. I stared at her. No, I'm being serious. Don't get me wrong, I have looked at woman as I fucked them, but that was all in the moment of satisfying my own selfish, carnal needs. No, I mean really stared at her. I mean never really looked deep into a woman's eyes while I was inside her, not even with Tasha before now.

She seemed surprised, but pleasantly so, and she gazed back at me. I could feel my cock throbbing inside her, and I clenched my penis so that it throbbed hard. I didn't move in or out or up or down, I just kept my cock in place and pulsed it against the sides of her vagina. The whole time we kept our eyes locked on each other, no throwing our heads back, no closing our eyes and conjuring some image in our head that would turn us on, none of that. No, we just stared into each other's eyes and felt each other pressing against the other inside her.

I can't believe I've never done this before. No wait, I can. I know why I haven't. Because staring at someone at this moment when your throbbing cock is nuzzled deep inside someone you care about, you feel an overwhelming intense connection that makes you feel both larger than all of existence and at the same time tiny compared to the vast universe of emotions now open to you. The incredible sensations swarming within me were too scary to be believed and too fantastic to deny.

I moved ever so slowly and pulsed my cock several times and I could feel the wetness within her flooding her vagina and drenching me with her pleasure. Our eyes stared at each other as we both gasped in gratification, our gaping mouths inches from each other and trying to find enough air to keep us from passing out from overpowering bliss.

I could feel her body shuddering and shaking from an orgasm, and soon my dick climaxed into a stream of warm cum filling her generous body. I squeezed every drop I could from my cock, and continued to make it throb as much as I could until I felt the inevitable deflation and slowly slid myself out of her cum coated pussy.

I don't know how long we kissed and held each other, I can't tell you how long I spent running my tongue lightly down and around her gargantuan breasts as she relaxed, and I have no idea how long it was before she fell asleep in my arms. But what I do know is that three hours later I was still awake staring at the ceiling, which, I have to say, was really irritating to me. I mean, usually after I cum I couldn't stay awake if a nuclear air strike alarm was going off two inches from my ears. Now, as much as I felt terrific and spent and tired and relaxed, I just can't fucking go to sleep. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Something is nagging at my brain, and I can't put my finger on it. It's something about what Tasha said. No, it was Brittney's hypnotic code word, "Neitzsche-esque." The way that Tasha leaned over and asked me about that. Wondering who the writer was who said God is dead. But why would that bother me? Sure, Neitzsche is a famous philosopher, but that's like saying someone's a famous harp player or a famous badminton athlete. Not everyone knows who Neitzsche is, or can think of his name off the top of their head, so why did it bother me that Tasha didn't know? It's not like she would have any reason to know who he was.

All of a sudden, I sat up in bed. I was worried I was going to wake up Tasha, but she just rolled over in peaceful slumber. I was so goddamned tired, but I had to go check something. Something I hadn't consciously thought about.

I found my robe on the floor and went out to Tasha's living room and strode over to the bookshelf I had browsed at a few weeks ago. At the time, I had mindlessly gazed at the various books on her shelf, but now I was actually reading the names there.

Voltaire. Plato. Lao Tzu. Doris Kearns Goodwin. Why the hell didn't I notice this when I was browsing before? John Irving. Dominic Crossan. Martin Luther King Jr. Probably because my mind was focused on the large-breasted woman who was going to be sucking my cock. Nikos Kazantzakis. Frederick Neitzsche. There he was. And not only that, but there were three books by him; Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Beyond Good and Evil, and The Will to Power, which I had never even fucking heard of.

Ok, hold on. Don't get ahead of yourself. Maybe Tasha just bought a bunch of books that she'd never read. She certainly wouldn't be the first person to have ever done that, but as I flipped through page and after page and saw notes that seemed to be in her handwriting, and the binding and earmarked pages sure as hell seemed like somebody had read these.

So why the hell didn't she know who Neitzsche was? Come on, maybe it was just a brain fart, that happens to everyone. I certainly have had plenty of moments where the name you know you know is on the tip of your tongue but you just can't quite formulate the thought. Maybe. But the way Tasha asked, she seemed like she'd never be able to come up with the name no matter how many of her underused brain cells she assigned to the task.

And then I had the worst thought of all. It was so horrible I couldn't even bring myself to actually think it. That would be... just...

I had to know, so I bolted out the front door and went upstairs to Brittney's door and started pounding on the door. After a minute of that, I hear her muffled voice through the door, "Goddamnit, it's fucking three in the morning! Whoever this is, it had better involve a dead body or else you're about to become one!!" The door opens and Brittney is standing there with an unclasped robe that doesn't do an adequate job of hiding the fact that she is totally naked. "You?!" What the fuck are you doing?!?"

"Neitzsche-esque," I say and quickly let myself in and shut the door while she stands there in her stupor. "Sit down," and she does so. "Did you do anything to Tasha when you took her to the hypnotist?"

"Of course. I wanted to take that smartass cunt down, so I took her to go see a hypnotist." It is too fucking weird listening to Brittney talk in such a bitchy way with that monotone, zombie-like voice. "After the show, we went backstage and I told the hypnotist that if he put her under and gave her a codeword that would automatically hypnotize her, then he could fuck her brains out, which he did, and then commanded her to forget what he did." She's not mentioning her own hypnosis, so I can't help but wonder if she also fell prey to this guy and was told to forget it as well.

I ask Brittney, "Have you used that hypnotism against her since then?"

Brittney flatly said, "Sure, I've been using the codeword to make her believe anything any guy who wants to fuck her says. And I also gave her a fetish for painful bondage." Fuck me. All this time I had been patting myself on the back for being oh-so-fucking-clever with my oh-so-fucking-inventive-lies, but all along she'd already been programmed to believe whatever I told her. I'm not charming or clever or talented at bullshitting people, I just randomly came across someone would believe me no matter what I told her. And I was too fucking full of myself to see what was really happening.

I sigh deeply and ask, "What's the codeword?"

"Dostoevsky-ish." Good lord, what the hell kind of codewords are these? Neitzsche? Dostoevsky? But when I thought about it a second, it does make a weird kind of sense. I mean, you'd want a codeword that no one would ever actually use in real life to avoid someone accidentally stumbling into hypnosis. And if you completely made up a word, you might forget it. So complicated last names with an extra syllable would solve both those problems.

"Alright, Brittney. Go back to bed and forget we had this conversation. Oh, and forget Tasha's codeword." I snapped my fingers and she lumbered into the back bedroom.

I was still sitting in Brittney's apartment on the couch in the dark. I wanted to get up and go back downstairs, but I was too numb. This was all too much to take and I found myself struggling to breathe. The weight of this information felt like it was going to crush my ribcage. The fact is that I loved that Tasha wanted to fuck every night and was willing to do whatever I wanted. Her fetish for bondage was such a turn-on. And the only reason she was willing to do any of this with a schmuck like me is because she wasn't in her right mind. If this had happened a few weeks ago, I'd be slapping my hands together and gleefully rubbing them together like some cartoon world-dominating villain, grateful that I had complete control over a woman with huge tits and no brain.

But now. Now I have feelings for her. Now I see what a goddamn horrible person I am. I used to not give a shit about what a horrible person I was, but after being with Tasha, now I do give a shit. I want to be better than what I've been. I don't want to be that guy I was anymore. I don't want to be some selfish prick who thinks with his cock and doesn't give a shit about anyone else's feelings.

I lean my head back against the soft pillows on the couch, and I stare at the hints of moonlight on the clouds slowly crawling across the nighttime sky outside. I hate the fact that I know what I have to do. I fucking hate it.

...to be concluded