Tit Man

Tit Man

A Short Story

By Maryanne Peters

I have always loved breasts.

My girlfriend had big breasts. I could not keep my hands off them. Sometimes she would get shitty with me for always wanting to play with them.

I also liked the way that they excited her. When she wanted me to touch them, I could tickle them and (it seemed to me anyway) bring her to an orgasm without even going downstairs. How great would that be? Getting off with getting your pants off?

My way of getting off was not only to look at her tits, but to look at all kinds of tits online. I had links to all the sites. I would check them every day for a new pair of tits.

It was almost an illness. I know that now. My girlfriend told me. She could not handle my hands.

When she left I only had pictures of tits. Maybe every once in a while, I could hire a whore with great tits to play with. But I learned that working girls want to work, not play. It's like: "Hey, leave the tits alone now -- fuck me and fuck off."

My girlfriend had some estrogen pills which she left behind when she went. Believe it or not, she had been prescribed them for headaches. Menstrual Migraine I think it was called. She took them for a few days each month to "balance her hormones". I called her and asked her if she wanted them, as I was turning out some of her stuff. She said no. She said that I had been the cause of her headaches and she no longer needed the drugs. I was going to throw them out with her other stuff, but I didn't.

I knew what estrogen pills do. They are like breasts in a bottle.

What I needed was breasts of my own.

I suppose I thought that I could just get a little pair to play with which I could hide away. What the hell, I don't know what I was thinking. I was just desperate for some tit action.

As it happens, when I took those pills, I did grow tits. My mom had big tits. Maybe that's where this whole shit started. My mom's tits. Anyway, I had the genes for big tits, so the pills opened up a mess of trouble for me.

I mean, I got what I wanted. I could sit in front of the mirror and flop them about. But more than just looking at them, they had feeling in them too. Incredible feeling that just got more and more the bigger they got. I could roll the nipples in my fingers or stroke them with a feather and drive myself crazy. I did not even have to touch my dick. I would just wrap it in a Kleenex and it would just ooze cum without getting hard. I had all the heat that I needed without whores or even going online. That was good.

But I was a guy with a pair of tits.

I heard about a guy who got a pair of breast implants on a bet, and he lived with them for a year, just as a guy with tits. But he could say: "I'm doing it for a bet. I'm going to collect a wad of cash." What am I going to say? "I grew them so I can jack off". It just doesn't sound so good -- does it?

I mean, I worked as a glazier. It's manual work but not heavy manual work. Just as well because those hormone pills just seemed to sap my strength. But you can only hide your tits for so long and the guys you work with start asking questions.

With spring coming on it was getting hard to hide my ladies under baggy sweat tops. Still, I did not want to lose them. They gave me too much pleasure.

It was going to happen. I was just lucky that it happened when there was just me and Riley, on a gondola, 18 floors up on a new construction.

"Dude, what's wrong with your chest?"

It could have been worse. Riley and I were paired together often. We got on. He was a nice guy. He was somebody that I felt I could share a secret with. It was not as if I had a lot of choice. The cat was out of the bag as they say, the breast was out of the binding, dislodged by a sudden movement, behind dungarees.

"I got myself a pair of tits," I said, as if it was a new haircut.

"Let's see," he said.

"If you promise to keep it between us I will," I said. Would he? I mean, if he promised, would he.

"Sure," he said. "It stays on the cradle. I just want to see what you've got."

So, I showed him. I clipped one half of my dungarees and I popped them out.

"Man, they're beautiful," he said. It made me feel strangely proud instead of being embarrassed. "They would look better on a girl, but they are great. Are they implants?"

"No," I said. I must have sounded offended. "They're natural. I've been growing them for some time."

"What for," he said. "I mean, why do you want them."

"I've always loved tits," I said, cupping them and checking the rosy nipples, first one, then the other. "Don't you."

"Sure," he said. "On girls. Not on a guy."

"Well, I get off on them now. I tell you, that was a surprise. Just jiggling them in the mirror and then playing with them, is all I need. I swear, it's better than sex. What the hell, it is sex, but better."

"Would you let me play with them?" he asked. "Or at least touch them?"

"Go on then," I invited. He took his gloves off and touched one, as if it might leap off my chest and attach itself to his face, like in "Alien".

"Wow," he said. "Soft."

And somehow, having somebody else touch my tits felt so different. I wanted more.

"Would you like to kiss it?" I said. What a thing to say? Surely, I had gone to far? He would jump back in disgust. Surely, he would?

"Can I?" he asked. Oh my God. I was ready. I nodded.

His lips came up against my left breast, so softly. The lips must be the softest part of a man. No. The tongue is. He was licking my nipple.

"Fuck, fuck," I shouted.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Dude," he said' jumping back and making the cradle lurch, and me reach to steady myself. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, man. I just came in my pants. That's all."

So that was how it started. 18 floors up.

He came around to my place that night.

"Hey, you've got no hair on your body," he said. "I never noticed it before. Like, below the neck and above the waist, you could be a babe."

"It's the hormones," I explained. "They make your tits grow but they stop facial and body hair and soften you up a bit."

"Yea right. Like, no whiskers. And you are saying that you are soft all over?"

"Mainly the butt, but yes. In the arms too. I am not so strong as I was a year ago. Those big panes are harder for me these days."

"Yea. Right." He could not wait to get his hands on my tits. I wanted his mouth. I wanted to hold his head in my hands and make him suck my tits until I had filled the condom I had slipped onto my limp dick under my pants.

He gave me what I wanted, but I wanted more. I said: "Come around tomorrow night too."

"Ok," he said. "But I want something too. Could you give me a hand job while I am sucking your tits?"

What the fuck! Does Riley think I am gay? I am just a guy with tits, and who likes someone to tickle them the way he does. "My arms aren't long enough," I said, which was probably true.

"At least pretty yourself up a bit," he said.

I didn't want to give Riley a hand job, even if it could be easily done while his mouth was on my tits. Make myself a little prettier didn't sound so big a deal, if it meant not having to play with another guy's cock. I just had to have him lick my nipples.

My girlfriend had left lots of magazines and even bags of makeup and stuff. That bitch had taken plenty with her but still had heaps left behind. And she had perfumed shampoo, and hair treatments and curling things. It was all stuff that I meant to throw out, but just never got around to it.

Now I had it all spread around and I was thinking how I could use some of it to avoid jacking off Riley.

But that is the kind of motivation that makes you try, and try, and try again. I told Riley that he could come around later so I had time to perfect a look that he might be happy with. I washed my hair and brushed out some wispy bangs in front. I shaped my eyebrows with a template from a magazine, but nothing too thin. I used some makeup and some false eyelashes, and because I did not have pierced ears, I cut the back of some studs and superglued them onto my earlobes. I used some pink lipstick. And I used stick on nails and painted them pink as well.

I wore some panties because I knew that Riley would not want to see my junk. I certainly did not want to see his. But apart from that I stripped off and used a scented body cream to make myself as soft as possible.

I waited for him on the bed. He knocked on the door and I called out for him to come in. I was on the bed with my tits on full display.

I gave him a cheeky smile, or that's what I think it was, and I said: "Is this pretty enough for you?"

But he wasn't smiling. He looked hungry for sex. I was in his sights. I mean that is not the look any normal guy expects to receive in his lifetime -- the look of lust.

I was scared. I don't like to admit it, but the look of Riley's face scared me.

"Hey man," I said. "Are you coming over here to lick my tits, or what? You can keep your pants on."

But he was not listening. His pants were coming off. And he was huge. I mean, how many guys see another man's erection in the flesh. I never had before that night. This was bigger than anything I ever had down there.

"Maybe I could give you a hand job?" I suggested. I didn't want him to put that thing anywhere it might hurt.

"Do it Babe," he said. "And I promise I will lick those tits right off you chest." And to show me what he was talking about he bent over me and slurped my nipple.

That was enough for me. You know what I am talking about. The moment that you almost cease to be human -- you become an animal, driven purely by the need for sex.

So, when he said: "Put it in your mouth," it was not me, it was whatever I had become that did it. Some wild-eyed unthinking thing, slurping and dribbling, and working for the moment -- the moment when I could taste his seed and know that I had conquered him.

"Oh Baby, Baby, Baby," he moaned.

I swallowed. "That's right," I said. "Call me Baby. I'll gulp down you cum, as much as you can produce, but you have to lick my tits until I say stop."

I don't think that I ever will.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2023

Author's note: Here is a lighter story considering that I was accused of being "sick" after my last one. Incest is such a touchy subject but "For Daddy" was really about a disturbed young man craving a father's love, with a bad father father influenced by FRASA "Familial Resemblance Activated Sexual Attraction".