Author: Emerson Morris
It had been a long, hard day at the convention booth. Jennifer and I had gotten a few nibbles that may or may not translate into sales somewhere down the road, but the strain of smiling and making nice all day had left me with a mild headache and a sore face. I packed up our pamphlets and said, “Well, Jen, that’s it. I’ll load everything in the van now, so we don’t have to waste time in the morning. Why don’t you grab a table in the restaurant and we can have some dinner … and drinks?”
She looked even more tired than I felt. “I don’t know … To be honest, I’m exhausted. I think I’ll just take a shower, order some room service, and then go to bed.” She smiled. “I’ll see you in the-“
“Come on, Jen. It’s our last night in town. Then it’s back to the grind at the office. I’ll tell you what, take your shower and order some room service and we’ll eat it together. It’s a lot more fun than eating alone.” I grinned. “Maybe we can break into the mini-bar, too, and get some more mileage out of the old expense allowance. What’d you say?”
“I don’t know. I-“
“I’ll see you in half an hour,” I said, and scooped up a box and hightailed it out the door and into the parking lot. This was it, I thought. Showtime! I had worked with Jennifer for almost a year now, and had lusted after her hot body every hour of every day of every month of that year. She was a tall babe in her late thirties, which put her about ten years up on me, but age had been very, very good to her.
She wore her long, blonde hair in a ponytail or piled up on her head in a professional manner, and had warm, green eyes that could blaze with fire when she got passionate about something. Her skin was tanned a light brown, and her waist was slim and trim – obviously the result of plenty of early-morning, or late-night, exercise. Her legs were long and smooth, and held the promise of bliss at their axis. But what really made Jennifer sweet, sweet Jennifer, was her beautiful, bountiful tits. She was easily a 38 D, and when she walked towards me and those magnificent tits started bouncing, it was all I could do to keep my tongue in my mouth and my hands in my pockets.
And when she took off her suit jacket, the business ends of those tits were clearly and rigidly outlined against the thin material of her blouse; no doubt, in my mind, yearning to be free of their cloth and lycra confines and frolicking openly in my loving hands.
I gave my head a shake, noticed a group of Japanese tourists laughing and pointing at me. I sheepishly turned my back on them and tried to think away my spontaneous hard-on with thoughts un-Jennifer.
“That was a great meal,” Jennifer said. “I’m stuffed.”
Not yet, I thought, not yet.
She got up from the small table and walked over to the mini-bar. I watched her every move. She was dressed down in a pair of tight, faded-blue jeans, and a thin, white t-shirt that did nothing to hide her enormous chest.
“Would you like another drink?” she asked, bending over and opening up the mini-bar.
Her firm, rounded ass was a sight to behold. “Huh? Uh … sure,” I responded. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
She pulled out a couple of tiny, overpriced bottles and brought them back over to the table. She poured the contents into a couple of glasses, and we both quickly downed them. She left a rim of lipstick around the edge of her glass, and I pictured such a rim being left around my cock. I stifled my erection for the time being, however, and we shared a few laughs about the people we had met at the convention.
When she brought over our fourth set of bottles, a slight stumble in her step, she put them on the table but didn’t sit down herself. She stood in front of me, not six dick-lengths away, her big chest heaving like she had just run around the hotel a couple of times. I could have been chivalrous and stopped staring at her tits, but being knighted wasn’t on my list of long-term goals, so I gazed at her breasts like they were some sort of optical illusion.
“Like what you see?” she whispered.
The air in the room suddenly grew very, very hot, to go along with my face. I gulped, my tongue swollen in my dry mouth, and had trouble getting wind into my lungs. Her womanly scent and the heat from her body smothered me in a lust embrace. “I’d … I’d like to see more,” I said, choking. I’d seen a fair bit of feminine action in my day, but nothing approaching a woman of Jennifer’s size and experience.
“So would I,” she replied. She pulled a couple of clasps out of her hair and her silky, blonde tresses cascaded down her back and shoulders. Then she pulled her t-shirt up over her head and tossed it aside.
I swallowed hard and my throat creaked. Her tits were huge, the nipples large and dark inside her satiny, pink bra. “Wow,” I said softly.
I think Jennifer smiled then; I’m not really sure. I was watching her hands as they rubbed the sides of her slim, naked upper body, and then slowly rose up and caressed her breasts. She moaned slightly – I know that because I could hear it – as she squeezed the sides of her tits. Then she cupped her monstrous melons and hefted them slightly for my inspection.
“Yeah,” I stated eloquently.
She massaged her tits through the silky material of her bra, then slowly undid the fastener on the front. I held my breath. When she squeezed her breasts together in the action of unlocking her treasure chest, I swore that I could’ve lived contentedly for the rest of my natural life in that deep, deep cleavage. She slipped off her bra in slow-motion and her tits spilled out into the open. Free at last!
They were even bigger and more beautiful than I had fantasized, and I had long imagined the shape and texture and suckability of those titanic tits during many, many an office bathroom jerk-off session. They were a sun-burnished brown like the rest of her body, and huge and smooth – sagging not a bit. And her two glorious, sun-kissed mounds were peaked with thick, brown, inch-long nipples that stood erectly to attention in the air-conditioned cool of the hotel room. She lifted her tits with her hands, squeezed them together, shook them, rolled the long, rigid nipples between her fingers, moaning an accompaniment to her sensual tit-play. Her massive breasts were obviously sensitive to the touch and, hopefully, taste.
“You’re beautiful, Jennifer,” I said, stating the obvious.
“suck my tits,” she hissed, more to the point. “Suck my tits, you big, tit-hungry stud!”
My eyebrows shot up along with my cock. So, she liked to talk dirty. dirty it would most definitely be. I jumped up, brushed her hands aside, and grabbed onto her tits for the first time. They were as full and heavy and hot as I’d imagined. They were more than a handful. I squeezed them, kneaded them, rubbed them with shaking fingers and sweaty hands. I lightly pinched and rolled her impossibly large nipples. I fondled those incredible tits like a blind man shopping for watermelon.
Her body trembled at my touch, and her eyes glazed over with lust. Her lips opened and closed like she was already on the verge of a catastrophic orgasm. But she managed to give voice to her filthy feelings, and my filthy thoughts. “Explore my tits with your hands and your mouth and your tongue!” she said, in a quavery voice thick with passion. “Then stick your big cock between my tits and spray them with hot, sticky cum!”
“Sweet Jesus,” I mumbled. I shoved her tits together and was about to apply some suction and saliva when her legs buckled and she collapsed backwards onto the bed. I was on top of her in an instant, and I was holding nothing back. I frantically sucked on her right breast while I squeezed her left.
“Yes, suck my fucking tits!” she screamed, twisting her head back and forth, her body writhing around on the bed.
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