Mrs. B’s Story


This story was original posted by me on another site under a slightly different pen name. All characters are over 18.

Big Tits, Big Dicks and Fantasy Fucking!

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I suppose a lot of people would consider me to be a slut now. But I don’t think it’s my fault, really. I mean, what else could have happened?

I was one of those girls who started to flower into womanhood early. I was a skinny young girl who wore a B-cup brassiere when I was still in the sixth grade. I was completely embarrassed by my development. I dressed to avoid showing my rapidly blossoming femininity. Layered clothing became the norm along with a shoulders-hunched-forward posture. I tried to hide my rapidly blossoming figure. To no avail. Growing as rapidly as I did it was impossible to hide my figure. I was going thru bras so fast!

But I soon learned that my developing figure made me popular with the boys and by junior high I had stopped trying to always hide my womanly figure.

When I was a senior I was carrying by far the largest breasts in school – a huge, out-thrust pair of natural Double F-cup wonders. In the tight sweaters and peasant blouses that were all the rage I was a stunning sight! I had a date every night that my parents would let me out of the house.

And, I must admit, I had developed a well-deserved reputation. My breasts are extremely sensitive! Once a boy got his hands on my tits my resistance faded to nothing. And my suitors were quick to discover my weakness. Many was the high school date that degenerated into a sweaty grope in the back seat of his dad’s car, the movie forgotten, while my lucky date pawed and squeezed my mammoth rack or sucked on my eagerly straining nipples while I gave him a hand job. Many days I attended school with my nipples still throbbing from the intense suckling they had received the night before.

In college nothing much changed except that I found that I loved to suck cock! With my plush lips wrapped around a straining dick I could really enjoy myself! And the young men I dated loved it as well! Some dates never got a chance to savor the tight moist love hole between my legs because I would exhaust them orally.

I wore the normal clothing of the period, neither flaunting nor hiding the huge bosom that required I buy custom bras and tailored dresses. Nothing off the rack would fit, I would buy something that fit my top and take in the bottom section. I became quite a seamstress! I was no longer ashamed of being the most top-heavy girl in school. I rather enjoyed being the constant focus of male attention. I dated as often as I wanted, of course, and continued to enjoy an extremely active sex life did.

And my boobs continued to expand. I proudly carried a set of milkers that defied gravity and did not really need the support of a bra! By the time I met my husband-to-be I was a colossal Double H. I was the object of the advances of every horny tit-loving college boy. I was proud of the admiring glances I got everywhere I went from the men, and that all of the girls were jealous of my figure. Some days I would not wear a bra, just so I could see boners sprout wherever I went.

Brad was a grad student older than I was by several years and he always treated me like a lady. He looked me in the eye, not in the chest. There was none of the back seat groping that had been my earlier experience. We went to the movies, dinners, and took long walks across campus. He was a real gentleman at all times and he kept his hands to himself. I appreciated his interest in what I had to say and enjoyed his sense of humor. As our relationship developed and I started to see Brad exclusively,I dressed, once again, in a more conservative manner. It seemed to be appropriate, somehow.

We were married the month following my graduation from college. It was only after we were married that I discovered the truth. It was not just that Brad was a gentleman, it was also that his sex drive was not nearly as strong as mine was. Sex with him was a once a month event. Usually over with quickly. Brad was not, as so many of my other lovers had been, a “boob man”. And he paid my breasts little attention. And, of course, as a result, I felt little incentive to display them either, buying minimizer bras and other clothes that once again downplayed my most prominent features.

I worked to be satisfied with my role; I joined the young woman’s church group, baked at home and became a good “haus Frau”.

Brad had found a good position as a research chemist at a large multinational corporation and focused himself entirely on work and being a “good provider” as he put it. He just provided very little for me between the sheets. As the months went by I adjusted to the much lower level of sexual activity.

Even with as little sex as we enjoyed it was inevitable that I became pregnant. It took two years into our marriage. çankırı escort With pregnancy came an increase in my breast size as well. An increase which my husband did not seem to appreciate.

With the birth of our daughter, Deirdre, I experienced yet another growth spurt. And my breasts retained their size despite my bottle feeding Deirdre at Brad’s insistence.

When Brad died in a plant accident a year and a half later, he left behind a young daughter and a wife whose sex life had diminished to a humdrum monotony and who habitually shrouded a massively generous figure from casual view. Because of insurance and a generous settlement I was set financially for life.

After a suitable period of mourning I started to date once again. I looked younger than I was – which I attributed to the wholesome life I had enjoyed. I was still a very attractive woman. And my figure still attracted plenty attention even though I chose not flaunt it.

And I found that I enjoyed dating. I enjoyed flirting with men once more, something that I had NEVER done while married! Many men asked me out. And I accepted a fair share of the invitations.

I rediscovered my enjoyment of sex. My vastly over-sized titties were still as sensitive as ever. Perhaps more so, due to the lack of stimulation that they had received from Brad.

But I found that the relationships were unfulfilling somehow. I could not imagine what was missing. But somehow, no matter what, every relationship ended quickly. The sex was not satisfying.

The men would arouse me wonderfully. They would suckle at my oversized nipples and grope my huge tits, and plush bottom. Then insert their rigid dicks into my cunt, thrust a couple of dozen times, and groan their relief as they spattered their discharge into my clutching cunt. Somehow I expected more! I was still a young woman with needs! Needs that were not to be satiated with a five minute interlude. Needs I often found myself meeting through masturbation after my date had left.

After several years of frustration I resigned myself to the use of dildoes and vibrators. Many nights I would play with myself, sucking my own hard-nippled tits, pounding a dildo in and out of my spasming cunt and teasing my clit with a vibrator. By burying my mouth in my tits I would stifle my cries of excitement as I came time after time. Although my daughter, Deirdre, slept in another part of the house I did not want to awaken her or embarrass myself by being too loud.

Over the years I devoted my self to raising my daughter. I became deeply involved with my local church. As I continued to dress conservatively I also stopped dating altogether. I desperately wanted to be a good role model for my wonderful growing young daughter.

By the time Deirdre was ready to graduate from High School I was nothing like the young woman that had fucked her way through college. I was an upstanding, church-going, single mother. I dressed to hide my plump and still over-ripe figure, I didn’t date – I focused my attention on my daughter.

Deirdre was a lovely, innocent young girl. While her figure was stunning she had been spared the travails I had suffered caused by my overly voluptuous figure. Deirdre was an otherwise slender eighteen year old girl who had developed to the point that she wore a 34EE bra the summer after her senior year in high school – which is when this story begins. As a loving parent I had tried my best to protect her from the nastier parts of the world. I was careful about whom she dated and made sure that she was always home at a decent hour.

During her last summer at home before college she began to date the young man next door. Harold was a bright boy, a little shy, and small for his age. While a year older than my Deirdre, he was in a grade behind her due to an extended childhood illness. I deemed him a suitable young man and allowed Deirdre to go out with him several times.

On the night before her departure for college Deirdre had her final date with Harold. As she had promised, she and Harold were back by 11 PM. As it was her last night at home for a while I permitted them to sit on the porch swing for a while after returning home.

I knew that Deirdre was a good girl and would not let things get out of hand. Nonetheless, I felt it my duty to keep a motherly eye on the young boy. And that is what sparked the events of this past year.

As I said, they were sitting on the swing on the front porch. I had not heard anything for several minutes so I peeked out the front door, which faced the swing. To my amusement the two young friends were kissing.

I was less amused to see that young Harold had put his hand under my Deirdre’s sweater and was attempting to fondle her! And to my complete dismay I noticed that Deirdre’s hand was on Harold’s thigh! And moving toward his crotch!

But all that was swept away as chaff before a tornado when I saw what was pulsing and visibly throbbing under the tight denim of Harold’s pant leg! My breath caught in my throat as I saw a thick, tubular shape which extended down his pant leg an unreasonably long way! Young Harold apparently had a prick at least twice the size of any I had ever seen! Feelings of arousal swept through me. I felt as if a switch had been tripped somewhere with in me. I felt my pussy moistening rapidly as I watched my daughter and her date.

Without taking time to think it over I snapped on the porch light and stepped outside. Confronting the guilty twosome I ordered Deirdre to bed and dismissed Harold on the spot, demanding that he go home. As he was half way down the stairs (with some difficulty I might add, as he seemed to be hunched over and limping somewhat) I thought to remind him that he had promised to mow the lawn the following day and I expected him to keep his promise.

That night I experienced the first wet dream that I had had in years. During the night I awoke, sweating. My thighs were wet with my love juices and my breasts throbbed with desire. My mind’s eye kept returning to the incredible sight of Harold’s pulsing member. I found myself caressing myself while I fantasized about it. What it would look like exposed? How large would it become? Was he a virile man or was he just a boy who put a sock in his pants as I had learned some boys did to fool young impressionable girls?

For the first time in years I masturbated to the thoughts that ran through my suddenly feverish mind. To my amazement I experienced a massive, multiple orgasm with only a little teasing of my turgid nipples and sopping wet cunt. Exhausted I slept soundly through the rest of the night. When I awoke my first thoughts were of the obscene sight I had observed the night before. It was all I could do not to finger myself before I got out of bed.

The next afternoon I returned home from the airport. The farewell had been very emotional. Deirdre would not be returning until the following summer, her scholarship was such that she was required to work during the usual holiday breaks. The next time we could hope to see each other would be late in June! Our tears had mingled as we hugged each other goodbye at the top of the airplane ramp-way.

On the way home all my thoughts were consumed with fantasies of Harold and his mammoth pole. The sight of his obscenely swollen crotch had driven all other thoughts from my mind. My pussy was leaking juice freely as I parked the car in my garage.

As I strode into the house from the detached garage I waved to Harold who was mowing the back yard. It was hot; he had removed his tee shirt. I had not before noticed how well muscled he was despite his short stature. Once inside the house I continued to observe him at his work. He had a gymnasts build. And I could not help but stare at the sumptuous bulge at the crotch of his shorts!

How could I attract his attention, I wondered?

Well, if Harold found my daughter’s body attractive, I thought, he would be completely bowled over by mine. True I had put on a few pounds over the past years. I was no longer as slim as I had been. But my breasts had retained their firmness and were much larger than Deirdre’s. Much, much larger I thought complacently as I regarded my reflection in the window.

I found my self plotting; wondering what I could wear that would attract the attention of the young man that was so diligently working in my back yard! I could scarcely believe it! I was actually planning to dress provocatively with the intention of getting Harold to spring a huge boner when he saw me! I wanted that young man! I wanted his dick! I wanted to see if the promise I thought I had seen in him the previous night could be brought to fruition!

In moments I found myself going thru my closet looking for an appropriate outfit. My legs were trembling and my palms sweating as I considered choice after choice. To my frustration I had nothing that was suitable! Too many years of being the proper church-going woman had left me with few choices of clothing for this occasion!

Finally, in the back of the closet I found an old blouse. Gauzy and sheer, I had never worn it without a slip underneath. It offered a square cut bodice that was cut high enough that it revealed no hint of cleavage. But if memory served, it would droop open if I leaned forward. I remembered Brad chastising me for it’s having done so once at a dinner party years ago! It had been designed to wear loose over a skirt but I had an idea that I thought would make it perfect for this (dare I think it?) seduction.

I grabbed a skirt and rummaged through my lingerie drawer. I quickly found an old garter belt and a pair of stockings. And a lacy pair of bikini panties that I had never been willing to throw out despite the lack of opportunities to wear such delicate and indiscrete under-things. Thank goodness for the pack-rat gene I giggled to myself.

Thinking quickly I picked up my favorite brassiere. It was, despite being industrial strength, quite pretty. Of course its cups were full cut but with my, um, excess of femininity, I still displayed a fetching cleavage I thought. I tightened up the shoulder straps as much as I could to provide as much up-lift as possible and tried it on.

Looking in the mirror I saw that, as I had hoped, my breasts rode much higher on my chest than usual. And with the tighter fit it had forced more of my breast flesh up and out. The jiggling line of cleavage seemed almost a foot long!

I hastily stepped into the dark skirt and pulled its zipper closed. It clung to my hips and butt like cling wrap: I’d put on a few pounds since the last time I’d worn it! Donning the blouse I fastened all of the myriad of buttons up the back. And as a finishing touch I tightened a broad black belt over the blouse. Taking a deep breath I tugged the blouse down as tight as I could under the belt whilst thrusting my chest as far forward as possible.

The effect was all that I could have hoped for! With my boobs piled as high as possible and the belt defining my waist the jut of my bosom was totally outlandish! I looked like a berserkly busty Barbie doll! The sight was guaranteed to arouse any man, let alone an impressionable, horny, teenage boy!

The bra was clearly outlined under the blouse and as I leaned forward I was pleased to see that the blouse gaped open as I had remembered, offering an unimpeded look at the overloaded bra and my massive bust trying to surge free. Experimentally I wiggled my shoulders and watched, raptly, as my bosom surged and fell in the cups of my bra. Even I was aroused at the sight!

I glanced out the window and saw that Harold was almost done with the yard. Going to the back door I called to him to stop in for ice tea after he finished and put away the lawn mower.

I made the iced tea at the kitchen sink and watched him as he tidied up the back yard. As he approached the back door he was carrying his tee shirt in his hand, the sweat that had beaded up on his body glistened in the mid afternoon sun.

“Put your shirt on the back of the couch” I called as he came in the door, ” I don’t want your sweat to stain the cushions.”

“Okay, Mrs. B” he replied.

Waiting a moment to allow him to get settled I took a deep breath and did my best to strut into the living room. It had been a long time since I had tried to make an impression like this but, judging from the gust of breath he let out as I entered, I had achieved my goal!

I could feel my breasts shivering and bouncing as I walked across the room. I made sure to land hard on my heels to impart the maximum movement. I carefully placed each foot directly in front of the other so that my hips swiveled provocatively.

He was goggle-eyed as I approached him. I could see his eyes following every movement of my bosom as I grew closer to him. Glancing down I confirmed what I had felt; my nipples were rock hard and noticeable thru the bra and thin blouse! They moved is small arcs despite the constraints of the bra! I was getting more aroused as I watched Harold watching me!

I placed the tray on the coffee table and fiddled with the pitcher and glasses on the tray, letting him get a long look down my blouse. I made sure to move my shoulders more than needed and cleverly squeezed my elbows together to push my boobs together, forcing a more prominent cleavage. A glance at his face told me that he was completely entranced staring at the milky white cleavage I had on display. He never even noticed I was watching while he stared at my boobs! I could see that his cock was racing toward a full erection. It looked to be huge!

Taking a glass I stepped around the coffee table and stood over him. I could barely see him over the thrust of my bosom. His view must have been awesome, indeed! With my breasts thrust so far out in front of me, he had to bend his neck far back in order to look me in the face. I made sure to stand with my shoulders thrown back and my chest out thrust as much as I could. I let him take his time looking at the huge shelf my breasts made under the tight blouse. I smiled gently down at him while his eyes wandered across the overhang of my boobs. I felt like a goddess as his eyes worshipped my fantastically oversized bosom. He was too young to try to hide what he was so fascinated with? the huge, massively rounded tits which overlapped my upper arms.

I curled my right leg under me as I sat as close to him as I could. My thigh touched his its entire length and I placed my right arm behind him as I handed him his glass with my left.

Gulping loudly he took it in both hands. I was amused to notice that even so it trembled badly in his grasp.

My breast was mashed solidly against his shoulder. I could feel his body tremble.

“My,” I cooed, “I had no idea you had so many tasty muscles.”


“And look at you, you’re still sweating.” Grinning salaciously I slowly drew my left index finger down his chest and across his stomach stopping just short of the waistband of his shorts.

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