Okay,
I’m working on something longer, but it’s not quite ready yet—hopefully very
soon, though. However, I felt bad about being unusually silent, so I wrote this quickie,
primarily inspired by the Friday Flash “Jackpot” prompt. So, here you go, a
small but dirty token to prove I haven’t forgotten about you and that you mean
the world to me. Someone once asked me to write four sentences about titty fucking.
I didn’t think I could do it justice in only four sentences, but he seemed to
enjoy it. Let’s see what you think about a complete story with titty fucking in
only five-hundred words. The ending might make you groan, but I never said bad
puns were beneath me. (wicked grin)
Please
click on the badges beneath the story to read all the other posts!
While
we were passing through Vegas, it was my idea to save ourselves some family
drama and just elope. I also thought he’d get a kick out of having a cheesy Elvis
impersonator marry us. He was all for it, but suggested we make a brief detour to
the hotel casino.
“Ah,
I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Come
on, we’ll put that freaky intuition of yours to the test.”
Against
my better judgement, I let him drag me over to the roulette table. What can I say,
I was crazy in love with the dude. Amazingly, we actually won our first bet, and
our second, and a third!
He
grinned at me. “See? You’re my lucky charm!”
Many
hours and several mind-blowing orgasms later, I was sprawled out on our rumpled
bed, a blissfully boneless mass of girl flesh. He kissed his way up my body—after
once again demonstrating what a cunning linguist he was. I thought I was
completely spent, but then he used his talented tongue and teeth on my nipples.
Once
I was moaning and writhing beneath him again, he looked up at me with his burning
blue gaze. “I want to fuck your tits.”
“Mmmm,
yes, please.”
He
coated his fingers in my ample pussy cream and smeared it between my tits, then
straddled my chest. His drooling cock was hot and heavy along my breastbone. I
squeezed my large mounds together, making a snug titty-cunt around him.
“God,
that feels good.”
For
me, too. I loved him fucking my tits as much as he did. I loved being in a
submissive position and feeling his weight on me. I loved the heat of his hard cock
pushing between my cleavage. I loved him using me for his pleasure and seeing
the ecstasy wash over his handsome face. And I loved the sounds he made and the
filthy litany he uttered while he got himself off.
He
started rocking his hips and watched as the head of his cock emerged from between
my tits. I lifted my head to lick and kiss the tip every time it appeared.
Groaning, he gradually picked up speed until his balls were slapping the
underside of my tits.
The
needy ache he always inspired returned and I pressed my thighs together to give
myself some relief.
“I’m
going to fucking come!”
“Fuck
yeah, give your dirty girl all your spunk!”
With
several hard grunts, he shot rope after rope of thick, milky come on my chest,
neck, and chin.
He
collapsed beside me and watched as I played with his come, painting it on my
tits.
“Fuck
that’s hot.”
I
loved how much he came. If only come were gold…
“I
guess hitting the jackpot proves I’m lucky after all.
He
chuckled. “What are you talking about? We’re completely broke.”
“But
I’ve got a hot husband now.” I waggled my fingers, showing off the not-quite-gold
band on my finger. “And there’s a motherlode all over my chest.”
I
originally had this idea for last week’s Wicked Wednesday “Observe” prompt, but
I didn’t get it done in time. My muse has been rather unfocused and difficult
to nail down recently. But when this idea came to me, it kind of wrote itself—just
not fast enough. Anyway, I adjusted it a bit to fit this week’s Masturbation Monday and Wicked Wednesday prompts.
If
you’re curious, here’s a link to the Turner painting mentioned in this story.
And at the end, there’s a video of the Monty Python song “Always Look on the
Bright Side of Life.”
Please
click on the badges below the video to read all the other posts!
I’d
been observing him for several weeks. Every morning, he came into the art
museum where I worked and sat in front of a particularly moody painting. It was
a Turner called “The Shipwreck” that we had on loan for a few months.
He
was an attractive man, a little older than me—maybe in his mid-thirties. I
thought he might work in one of the nearby office buildings, because he was
always dressed in business casual. But his golden-brown hair was a little long and
there was always a day’s worth of stubble on his strong jaw. I never thought I
liked the scruffy look, but on him it was hot.
So
naturally, I noticed him the first time he came in. With a dour expression of
his face, he’d sit on the bench in front of the Turner, his elbows braced on
his legs and his shoulders slumped. He stared at the painting so intensely I
wondered if he was trying to teleport himself into the turbulent scene. My mind
was overrun with curiosity.
Just
for the heck of it, I read my horoscope every day—not that I really believed it.
However, that morning it read:
Be
the light. Brighten someone’s day and show them all the colors of the rainbow.
And
that was exactly what I intended to do.
“Good
morning,” I said brightly as I sat down beside Mr. Gloomy.
He
looked at me for a long moment, clearly perplexed, but politeness won out.
“Hi.”
I
nodded my head at the Turner. “You must really like this painting.”
“Yeah,
it’s…powerful.”
“And
depressing.”
He
looked down at my blouse and the nametag emblazoned with Teresa. “Don’t
you work here? Aren’t you supposed to tell me what a great work of art it is?”
“Oh,
it’s a masterpiece. Truly. It’s also depressing as hell. I can’t imagine coming
here every day and brooding over it for half an hour.”
“You
noticed, huh?”
“Yep.
You’re much too good looking to be so morose.”
The
corner of his mouth quirked up for a second, but then he sighed. “I’ve had a
rough time of it.”
“So
I gathered. Want to talk about it?”
“I
don’t want to bore you with my problems.”
“Hey,
I offered.” I nudged his shoulder with mine. “Besides, it’s part of my job here
to make sure the patrons have an enjoyable artistic experience. You are clearly
not having a good time.”
“No,
I guess not.”
“And
your mood is contagious.” I leaned closer and stage-whispered, “You’re bringing
everybody down, dude.”
He
huffed a laugh that sounded kind of rusty. But hey, it was a start. “My ex is
making my life hell and all my supposed friends are traitors.”
“That
really sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“But
you know what?”
“What?”
“Screw
‘em.”
He
snorted.
“Okay,
I know it’s radically simplistic.”
“Not
to mention easier said than done.”
“Do
you want her—or him—back?”
“Her.
And hell no.”
“Also,
friends like that you don’t need.”
“True.”
“Let
me ask you this. Is wallowing in your misery making you feel any better?”
“No.”
“It’s
just playing right into her hands. Don’t let her win. As they say, living well
is the best revenge.”
He
nodded thoughtfully.
“So
you should look on the bright side of life. Like the song.”
He
gave me a blank stare.
“From
Monty Python.” When he continued staring, I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t make
me sing it.”
I
got a real, full-blown smile this time. “I know the song, but I really can’t
see a bright side of this situation.”
After
a moment of thought, I said, “Well, was there anything that you enjoyed that
you couldn’t do with your ex? Either because she didn’t like it or wouldn’t let
you?”
His
eyes widened, then his expression turned guilty. “Not really.”
“Liar.
I saw that look. There is something.”
He
shifted in his seat. “I can’t tell you. It’s…sexual.”
“Ah,
I see. Just between you and me, I’m fairly open-minded about sexual matters.” I
leaned in closer. “I’m actually kind of freaky.”
He
looked at me speculatively for a moment. “Really?”
“Oh
yeah.” I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “Try me.”
After
glancing around us, he leaned closer to me and said in a hushed voice, “I’ve
always wanted to give a woman a messy facial, but my ex thought it was
demeaning.”
I
chewed on my bottom lip, but then grabbed his hand and pulled him up off the
bench.
“Where
are we going?” he asked as I led him down a hall.
“My
office. We need privacy for this.”
Once
we were inside the closet I tried to spend as little time in as possible, I
shut and locked the door behind us.
He
was leaning against my desk when I turned to face him.
With
my back to the door, I unfastened the top button on my blouse. “We’re going to
make your dirty fantasy come true.”
He
swallowed. “Okay.”
I
smiled at his casual response, because I saw the heat burning in his blue eyes.
As I undid one button after another, he watched intently, his gaze going from
warm to scorching. I pulled the blouse free of my skirt and shrugged it off,
revealing my lace bra dyed in a rainbow pattern.
The
whole naughty scene was getting me hot, too. Desire unfurled low and slow in my
belly. A needy ache thrummed between my legs and moisture quickly pooled there,
soaking into my matching panties. As his gaze devoured my breasts, my nipples
tightened, pushing against the fine lace.
I
sauntered up to him and placed my blouse on the desk. “I didn’t want to risk
getting it messy.”
“Good
thinking.” His gaze was still focused on my tits. “You should lose the bra too.”
Grinning,
I reached back and unfastened my bra. Then it joined my blouse on the desk.
“I
love your big tits.”
I
traced my fingers over the blatant erection outlined beneath his slacks. “Do you
want my hand or my mouth?”
Lifting
his gaze to meet mine, he hissed out a breath. “Both.”
“Mmmm,
my pleasure.” I meant it too.
Kneeling
between his legs, I unzipped his pants and freed his cock. He was gloriously
hard, but I planned to make him even harder. My hand wrapped around the base, I
slowly licked up his shaft, stopping just beneath the head to tease the sensitive
spot there.
He
groaned and cupped the back of my head, his hand gently holding my ponytail.
I
took just the head into my mouth and softly sucked on it. Some pre-come oozed
out onto my tongue, making me moan at the taste of him. I tried to ignore the
growing ache in my horny cunt, focusing all my attention on pleasing him.
“Fuck!”
Sucking
a little harder, I slid my mouth down his cock, taking more and more of him until
my nose was buried in his thatch of pubic hair. I loved the heady, musky smell
of him there. I gradually moved back up his shaft, then back down again. I set
up a steady rhythm, up and down, the head of his cock nudging the back of my
throat every time I took all of him.
I
could hear him breathing hard. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
It
made me even hotter that I was pleasing him so much—making him forget all the
crap that had been weighing on him. I pressed my thighs together to relieve some
of my neediness and sucked him even harder.
His
grip on my ponytail tightened, but he didn’t try forcing me into a faster rhythm.
Reluctantly,
I relinquished his now-slick cock and used my hand to stroke him. “Am I a good
little cocksucker?”
“Fuck
yeah.”
I
really got off on dirty talk and especially enjoyed being called filthy names.
But right then, I was more drawn to his balls. While I jerked him off, I took
one in my mouth and lightly sucked on it, massaging it with my tongue.
He
moaned. “You are so fucking hot.”
As
I gave the other one the same attention, I stroked him harder and faster.
“I’m
going to fucking come!”
He
pulled on my ponytail, so I released him and looked up expectantly, my mouth
slightly open. Still holding my head, he took over jerking his cock in forceful
strokes. When the first blast of come hit my glasses, I closed my eyes reflexively.
I heard his soft grunts as several more heavy lines of spunk fell across my
face. Easing my head back even further, he shot two final ropes on my tits.
I
felt so wonderfully filthy and realized I was grinding my thighs together to
get some much-needed friction.
When
he released my ponytail, I went to take off my messy glasses so I could see him,
but he stopped me. “Wait, can I take a picture of you like that?”
I
chuckled. “Sure. Only if you promise to keep it to yourself.”
“Of
course.”
I
heard some rustling, then a click from what I assumed was his cellphone.
Once
he gave me the go-ahead, I set aside my come-covered glasses and captured a
thick, milky dollop of spunk that was about to fall off my chin. While he
watched, I painted it on my nipples. I moaned as I smeared the rest of his come
all over my tits, luxuriating in the sweet filthiness of it.
“Damn,
that’s hot.”
“Mmmm,
fuck yeah. I’m so fucking horny right now I could self-combust.”
Faster
than I would have thought possible, he picked me up and had me sprawled out on
my desk.
“What
are you doing?”
He
grinned down at me. “Returning the favor.”
I
groaned. “Thank fuck.”
He
didn’t waste any time pushing up my skirt and removing my drenched panties. All
too soon, he had my legs spread wide apart and eagerly demonstrated what a
skilled and talented tongue he had.
“Your
ex is a fucking idiot!”
Then
he slid two long fingers deep inside my cunt and I completely lost the ability
to speak—or even form a coherent thought.
After
several mind-blowing orgasms and I finally came back to earth, we quietly put
ourselves back together. I had a lot more fixing to do than he did, but I
really didn’t mind.
“Can
I buy you a coffee after work?”
I’d
been using a wet-nap to wipe the come off my face, but stopped to look at him. “I’d
love that.”
“One
thing…”
“Hmmm?”
“Leave
my come on your tits for the rest of the day.”
It
was the beginning of a beautifully dirty friendship.
