"Titillation Betwixt"
by Julius
Copyright 2002
Months ago she'd asked, "What is it about breasts that so fascinates men?"
He'd tried to answer a woman question with man words and had not done too well.
Last week they'd watched "Notting Hill" and to his delight Julia Roberts had asked the same question of Hugh Grant and his answer had been no better.
The living room was lit by just candle glow.
This was one of their planned lovings. They'd waited all day. John wore just a white thong. Steph in purple bra and thong and white fishnet panty hose and make-up and pearls and a hungry smile. As always, the chemistry took over and the planning kind of slid away.
He sat on the chesterfield and she sat between his legs, her back against his chest. Her bra cups were peeled down off her breasts, straps off her shoulders. His hands were filled, more than filled, with her breasts. He watched the action over her shoulder.
They were both aroused and becoming more so. He wished he'd left the thong off. His trapped cock a sweet agony in the pouch, her back pressing it hard against his stomach. It was a full week since they'd last made love and their mutual hunger was driving them now.
As he lifted and squeezed her breasts he wondered how anyone could be puzzled about the attraction.
The subtle heaviness, the incredible, moist warmth of the skin under her breasts as he lifted them. The hardening nipples that teased his palms. The skin! Oh the skin, like the down under a bird's wing. The warmth, the softness. His trapped cock was begging for escape, release.
She was loving the touch of his hands. Moving her shoulders, begging somehow for more of this. Little moans of pleasure as he kneaded her fullness, slid palms over nipples, teased and tugged at the small fruit with thumbs and forefingers. He wanted to suckle her. She responded to his squeezing and he squeezed a little harder. She responded to this and he wondered that flesh so sweet and soft could enjoy being handled like this. The feel of her was driving him crazy, he couldn't believe the level of his arousal. He was so hard, so hungry for her. He laughed softly and she asked him what was funny.
"The question about what men see in women's breasts, that's what. Just playing with yours is making me close to coming."
"Love them all you like." she murmured.
"I'd love to fuck them!" he groaned, squeezing her.
She squirmed off the chesterfield and knelt on the floor between his knees. She cupped her hands under her breasts, lifting them, separating them. Staring into his eyes she whispered, "Well, fuck them then!"
He struggled his cock and balls out from the side of his thong. They both stared at his erection for a moment. She loved it, he was quietly proud of it. He couldn't believe how hard he was. He took the bottle of oil off the coffee table and squeezed some onto his cock and into her cleavage. She leaned forward and took his erection between her breasts and pressed them together. He groaned at the sensation of soft enveloping warmth.
He moved his hands to cover hers but she slipped them away leaving him to hold her breasts and he squeezed them together and thrust up between. This was paradise! He felt the soft burn start inside and knew he could come, almost at will.
She was loving it too. The hard heat of him between her breasts, his hands forcing them together. Her nipples in his pubic hair. And then he was thrusting between them! She looked hungrily down watching the darkness of his cock's head appearing and disappearing in between the swells of her big, white breasts.
Her arousal amazed her! He was only sliding his cock between her breasts after all, but tonight, somehow, this was enough.
He squeezed them together, tightening the tunnel they made. She could feel the torment of his hair on her nipples. Dear God! She could feel her orgasm lurking, uncoiling in the pit of her stomach.
He was watching that cock head too. He withdrew, then thrust again, slowly. He was actually squirming now, barely able to contain his hunger. Squeezing her breasts, thrusting his oiled hardness. He fought to control the looming orgasm as his body struggled for release. The feel of her breasts in his hands, the slickness of them clinging to his cock. He thrust, his cock head peeped from the top of her cleavage, the little slit pulled open by the drag of her breasts.
He heard his voice saying, "What do I see in your tits?" and again, "what do I see in your tits?" Then,"If you could feel this you wouldn't ask."
"Mmmm!" was all the answer she gave, revelling in the pressure of his hands, the hot, slow burrowing of his cock.
He was a thrust, a moment from coming. The white heat at the base of his cock churned. His body seemed to be ringing like a bell. He froze, she too! They both knew how close he was. She struggled up off the floor and fought her panty hose down her legs, sobbing with the effort, with the frustration as they resisted.
He cock glistened with oil. He could feel his heart's pulse in it. He stared at the precum glistening at the twitching tip willing himself not to come in that desperate moment. Then she was kneeling astride him, pulling her thong aside and lowering herself onto him. His cock speared up into her heat, they both cried out. He didn't come with her first, tight, hot slide down his length but then he thrust to meet her and he did come.
A scalding rush and another. He was helpless as his climax tore free. He buried his face between her oily breasts. She clung to him. Both sobbed their passion. He struggled to thrust higher into her, she squirmed her ass down on his thighs, felt her first spasm blossom. Both sought desperately to get that cock deeper. Still he came, spilling, willing himself to empty endlessly into her. Her pussy convulsed around him with a milking hunger, draining him.
He found himself wishing he had come between her breasts. Wishing he'd come between them as a gesture. As an offering, to let her know how wonderful he thought they were. To let her know what he saw in her breasts, her wonderful, beautiful, soft breasts.
She was laughing and telling him that she loved him and he realised he'd said it all out loud.
"I love your breasts!" he said into her cleavage.
"And my breasts love you, and your lovely, tit-fucking cock!"
by Julius
Copyright 2002
Months ago she'd asked, "What is it about breasts that so fascinates men?"
He'd tried to answer a woman question with man words and had not done too well.
Last week they'd watched "Notting Hill" and to his delight Julia Roberts had asked the same question of Hugh Grant and his answer had been no better.
The living room was lit by just candle glow.
This was one of their planned lovings. They'd waited all day. John wore just a white thong. Steph in purple bra and thong and white fishnet panty hose and make-up and pearls and a hungry smile. As always, the chemistry took over and the planning kind of slid away.
He sat on the chesterfield and she sat between his legs, her back against his chest. Her bra cups were peeled down off her breasts, straps off her shoulders. His hands were filled, more than filled, with her breasts. He watched the action over her shoulder.
They were both aroused and becoming more so. He wished he'd left the thong off. His trapped cock a sweet agony in the pouch, her back pressing it hard against his stomach. It was a full week since they'd last made love and their mutual hunger was driving them now.
As he lifted and squeezed her breasts he wondered how anyone could be puzzled about the attraction.
The subtle heaviness, the incredible, moist warmth of the skin under her breasts as he lifted them. The hardening nipples that teased his palms. The skin! Oh the skin, like the down under a bird's wing. The warmth, the softness. His trapped cock was begging for escape, release.
She was loving the touch of his hands. Moving her shoulders, begging somehow for more of this. Little moans of pleasure as he kneaded her fullness, slid palms over nipples, teased and tugged at the small fruit with thumbs and forefingers. He wanted to suckle her. She responded to his squeezing and he squeezed a little harder. She responded to this and he wondered that flesh so sweet and soft could enjoy being handled like this. The feel of her was driving him crazy, he couldn't believe the level of his arousal. He was so hard, so hungry for her. He laughed softly and she asked him what was funny.
"The question about what men see in women's breasts, that's what. Just playing with yours is making me close to coming."
"Love them all you like." she murmured.
"I'd love to fuck them!" he groaned, squeezing her.
She squirmed off the chesterfield and knelt on the floor between his knees. She cupped her hands under her breasts, lifting them, separating them. Staring into his eyes she whispered, "Well, fuck them then!"
He struggled his cock and balls out from the side of his thong. They both stared at his erection for a moment. She loved it, he was quietly proud of it. He couldn't believe how hard he was. He took the bottle of oil off the coffee table and squeezed some onto his cock and into her cleavage. She leaned forward and took his erection between her breasts and pressed them together. He groaned at the sensation of soft enveloping warmth.
He moved his hands to cover hers but she slipped them away leaving him to hold her breasts and he squeezed them together and thrust up between. This was paradise! He felt the soft burn start inside and knew he could come, almost at will.
She was loving it too. The hard heat of him between her breasts, his hands forcing them together. Her nipples in his pubic hair. And then he was thrusting between them! She looked hungrily down watching the darkness of his cock's head appearing and disappearing in between the swells of her big, white breasts.
Her arousal amazed her! He was only sliding his cock between her breasts after all, but tonight, somehow, this was enough.
He squeezed them together, tightening the tunnel they made. She could feel the torment of his hair on her nipples. Dear God! She could feel her orgasm lurking, uncoiling in the pit of her stomach.
He was watching that cock head too. He withdrew, then thrust again, slowly. He was actually squirming now, barely able to contain his hunger. Squeezing her breasts, thrusting his oiled hardness. He fought to control the looming orgasm as his body struggled for release. The feel of her breasts in his hands, the slickness of them clinging to his cock. He thrust, his cock head peeped from the top of her cleavage, the little slit pulled open by the drag of her breasts.
He heard his voice saying, "What do I see in your tits?" and again, "what do I see in your tits?" Then,"If you could feel this you wouldn't ask."
"Mmmm!" was all the answer she gave, revelling in the pressure of his hands, the hot, slow burrowing of his cock.
He was a thrust, a moment from coming. The white heat at the base of his cock churned. His body seemed to be ringing like a bell. He froze, she too! They both knew how close he was. She struggled up off the floor and fought her panty hose down her legs, sobbing with the effort, with the frustration as they resisted.
He cock glistened with oil. He could feel his heart's pulse in it. He stared at the precum glistening at the twitching tip willing himself not to come in that desperate moment. Then she was kneeling astride him, pulling her thong aside and lowering herself onto him. His cock speared up into her heat, they both cried out. He didn't come with her first, tight, hot slide down his length but then he thrust to meet her and he did come.
A scalding rush and another. He was helpless as his climax tore free. He buried his face between her oily breasts. She clung to him. Both sobbed their passion. He struggled to thrust higher into her, she squirmed her ass down on his thighs, felt her first spasm blossom. Both sought desperately to get that cock deeper. Still he came, spilling, willing himself to empty endlessly into her. Her pussy convulsed around him with a milking hunger, draining him.
He found himself wishing he had come between her breasts. Wishing he'd come between them as a gesture. As an offering, to let her know how wonderful he thought they were. To let her know what he saw in her breasts, her wonderful, beautiful, soft breasts.
She was laughing and telling him that she loved him and he realised he'd said it all out loud.
"I love your breasts!" he said into her cleavage.
"And my breasts love you, and your lovely, tit-fucking cock!"
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