Categories:
| On 4 years ago

"sunny leoni video-tamil actresses names"

Patricia had studied extra hard this year and she was determined to get away from it all by herself, so…

My wife was out of town for the week, which left me without much to do besides watching TV or…

“Wendy, I’ve told you before. You are NOT going out without a bra on, and that’s final,” said Wendy’s mother,…

My world was turned upside down. Grandma and Grandpa were here for the week, and I had to stay at…

My wife is a gorgeous woman. At 40 only two things mar her petite little body. Stretch marks on her belly from childbirth and the fact she basically only has nipples for breasts. Having been married to two sluts before my current wife, I knew she was a slut of world-class proportions. I also knew the only way to keep a slut faithful was to keep her appetite for ‘strange’ satisfied. I was also to the point where my wife fucking others was less hurtful than her cheating on me. In fact I had so convinced myself with this, I was all time asking my wife to open up sexually to threesomes and swinging and the like. I had images of her in my mind on her knees, in a room full of men waiting to use her willingly sucking mouth. I also fantasized of her on a bed moaning her lust, her legs in the air, while strange men with large cocks took turns fucking her. But I couldn’t get her to go there. We had fought on the issue on numerous occasions, but my fears of her growing restless and cheating on me would not allow me to give the issue a rest even if I couldn’t bring it up to her. I decided I must skillfully guide her to the first event and then she would probably go there willingly. I set about devising a plan. Besides being gorgeous, my wife is a social animal. We regularly entertain friends at our home, where my talents at the BBQ grill are used to their utmost. This time I intended to use more than my talents at the grill to gain enjoyment for our guests, my wife, and myself. I have over the years been able to get my wife to loosen up on her attire some. When we met she dressed rather frumpishly. She usually looked like the President of the local School Marm’s Association. A lot of this had to do with body image, and though I never successfully argued that a man didn’t care what you looked like, gross obesity aside, if his cock was in your mouth or your pussy, she wouldn’t relent. She stated her reluctance to wear sexy clothing stemmed from the background of a wife of a low paying military man not being able to afford sexy clothing and she had no desire to dress “trashy and flashy”. I was able to counter those arguments when my small-business began to thrive and year in and year out draw in revenues in the multiple 6-figure range. So she could now afford anything. I countered the “trashy and flash” by purchasing sexy, yet classy clothing for her at Christmas one year and when she liked what I had purchased explained to her this wasn’t “trashy and flashy”, yet was still sexy. She had gradually changed in the way she dressed. Her skirts had gotten shorter, which looked great with her long tanned legs, and she had gradually moved toward only wearing thong panties. For the party we were currently planning, I asked her to wear a recently purchased black mini-skirt. I didn’t ask her to wear a specific blouse, feeling she should have the choice, to select as conservative a blouse as she wanted to help her feel comfortable in her dress and not draw attention in her mind to the extremely short skirt. When I came through the bedroom as she was dressing and I saw her putting on pantyhose, I asked her if they were necessary. I explained this was an informal get together and she should be comfortable in her dress and that her legs were already nicely tanned this year and hoses of any kind shouldn’t be necessary. I would have liked it ok if she had chosen lace-top thigh highs, but none were better than pantyhose (my view of the modern chastity belt). She agreed one less waistband would be more comfortable and returned the pantyhose to her lingerie drawer. Now phase I of my plan was in place and the rest could proceed. Some of our friends were married couples and some were single. We hadn’t gravitated away from singles once we married as so many couples do and the single guys and gals were a regular part of our entertaining. I had singled out a young black male co-worker as my ‘partner in crime’ as my wife had a fantasy about big black cocks fucking her. Gerome was his name and I explained my plan to him and detailed his part in the plan, and he eagerly agreed to participate. I had known he would, for I had seen him undress my wife with his eyes more than once. I guess the vision of a strong burly black man fucking a petite blond white girl wasn’t just a white man fantasy. So the plan was in place as the guests started to arrive for a late afternoon BBQ. The ribs were sizzling in the smoker, and a large pitcher of Top Shelf Margarita’s was chilling in the fridge. My wife liked these especially well, and I did too because with three shots of booze and three shots of mix per drink, one didn’t have to drink many to feel the effect. As she poured for the first of our guests, she politely poured herself one and began to imbibe. My wife, ever the dutiful hostess, kept glasses topped off and, congenially, drank right along keeping pace with her guests. By the time the ribs were served with the fixings, she was starting to feel the effect as she had consumed several of the potent cocktails, on an empty stomach. I cautioned her to slow her consumption. I wanted her relaxed and slightly buzzed, but not passing out drunk. After the meal and some socializing, the couples started to drift toward the door. I had hoped the free-flowing liquid refreshment would encourage hasty departures and it had worked. The single males however were all staying put. They all knew the grand plan, though not the detail, for their involvement would be spontaneous. After all the couples had left and only several single males remained, Gerome asked if we could retire to the den for some movies on the 52″ home theatre system we had recently purchased. After he had briefly reviewed our impressive library of videos, he asked me, in a manner my wife could hear if I had any skin flicks? I said yes and went to the stash in the master bedroom. I chose one that had the semblance of a plot to it, hoping to keep my wife interested in it. When I returned the sweet yet acrid smell of Pot was floating in the room. I had told Gerome to try to get my wife to smoke some. I knew this always made her horny, but she was on again off again about its use. As I entered the room, she was taking a big hit off the joint Gerome had passed her. She passed it to me and I hit on it then passed it on. We continued to pass the joint around the room until it was gone. All totaled my wife took three hits off the joint. In her desire to be a good hostess, she had joined right in which was what I had hoped for. I told the guys to settle in and put the video in the VCR. It was about a young woman taken captive by a biker gang and forced to serve them sexually, but who overtime, comes to enjoy her role. It had all the elements I needed. Multiple partners, and interracial fucking. I threw a pillow on the floor beside the sofa, and lay down on my belly to watch. I gestured for my wife to join me. Though partially drunk and partially stoned, she managed a very ladylike decent to the floor beside me in the short dress she was wearing. I snuggled in close to her and we started watching the fuck flick. As the movie progressed, I sensed a rise in her level of excitement, characterized by her fidgety movements next to me. I decided it was time to put the next phase of my plan into action.wife fuck friend sex storiesRolling to my side I drew her into my arms and kissed her a long, slow, deep-wet kiss. The kind designed to stir feelings. She responded by kissing me back in the same manner. It certainly appeared as though the combination of Margarita’s, Pot, the fucking on the movie and my kiss was creating the desired effect. Now it was time to see how deeply that effect ran. I began kissing her again, and at the same time I ever so slowly I crept my hand down her back and across her ass until it was at the hem of her short skirt. My hand then reversed direction and started to slide up under her skirt, along her inner thigh. When I reached the crotch of her panties I slid my hand up onto her ass. As my fingers traced her crotch upward to her ass, it felt as though her pussy lips were fully engorged with the blood of her lust, and she moaned softly. Releasing from the kiss she whispered that I should stop as we might be seen, yet she made no move to remove my hand. My hand began to caress the cheeks of her ass, an action that really turns her on. I whispered back to her the guys were all staring intently at the video and we wouldn’t be observed and from where we were lying they would have to make a concerted effort to see what we were doing. My fingers moved to the thong that ran through the crack of her ass and traced downward to her sopping wet cunt and began to work inside. As first one then two fingers worked in and out of her steamy snatch, I told her they couldn’t see anything if they looked except my hand under her skirt anyway. I went on to say even if they did, that was OK, because she was my wife, and we could put on a little bit of a show for them. This must have appealed to the exhibitionist in her as her lips came down onto mine and she began to kiss me in earnest again. I could feel her cunt starting to suck on the invading digits sawing in and out of her steamy fuck hole, and her ass moved in an almost imperceptible counter rhythm to my finger-fucking motions. I felt it time again to advance the plan along. I laid my ankle over the ankle closest to me and started to draw her legs further apart, ostensibly to gain better access to her pussy. At first she resisted slightly, then she yielded completely. Her legs slid apart and to lend credence to why the move was necessary, I inserted a third digit into her pleasure palace. She again moaned softly into my mouth as she continued the heated kiss. My leg spreading he legs was Gerome’s signal to action and he moved unnoticed to the place beside her other leg. I held the kiss, hoping to prevent protest as he took her other ankle and spread her legs a few inches further. I detected a jump of surprise from her as he touched her ankle, but she didn’t stop kissing me. So far so good. Gerome continued with his execution of the plan, by placing his hand under the hem of her skirt and moving it smoothly, slowly but deliberately, up the back of her thigh. I again felt her inwardly gasp as his hand contacted the cheeks of her ass, but I felt her melt again as he gently molded the nearest cheek with his large hand. She began to offer more intensity to the kiss I was receiving, telling me Gerome’s efforts were having the desired effect. I don’t know whether it was just the pleasure of the kneading of her ass or the fact it was a strange hand, Either way, I didn’t care, she hadn’t protested this intrusion and I felt we were on the way to the goal I sought. Gerome continued to knead her ass for several moments as instructed, and my wife’s kisses became more passionate. It was time for the next step. I gave Gerome the signal to proceed by unwrapping my leg from around hers. Gerome began to move his hand over to the thong as I had and once it was under the cloth, slid it down toward her fevered pussy. When I felt his hand touch mine, I withdrew my fingers from my wife’s cunt to be quickly replaced by two of Gerome’s larger digits. I felt her start to diminish the kiss as if to protest and I quickly began to massage her stiff clit with my cunt-juice slickened finger. Instead of breaking the kiss, this served to intensify her passion and she began to suck on my invading tongue as if it were a hard cock. Her hips were also actively gyrating to the stimulus of the two hands. I felt it safe to continue. I withdrew my hand from her panties leaving only Gerome’s probing digits, and her hip gyrations never diminished. I scooted up toward her head until I was sitting with a leg down either side of her body, her head in between my legs. I bent over and whispered “Suck me baby.” as I unfastened the fly of my pants. My erect cock sprang free and my wife quickly grabbed it and swallowed the head into her mouth. The look in her eyes told me she was lost to her lust, but that she also was also perhaps a little miffed to the whole scene that was unfolding. Yet the intensity with which she was sucking my cock and gyrating her hips to Gerome’s finger fucking told me lust was winning the war in her mind and body. I let her continue to suck me for several more minutes, then gave Gerome the next que. Bending over my wife’s bobbing head, I grasped the hem of her skirt and drew it up around her waist. I heard Gerome gasp as my wife’s lovely ass came into view, just inches from his face. The only thing obstructing the view was the band of thong material that split her ass checks in two. This was his signal and Gerome smoothly withdrew his fingers from my wife’s nibbling snatch and grasped her panties by the waist and started to slowly draw them down. This was a moment of truth, and when my wife redoubled her efforts at sucking my cock, I knew we had passed this milestone. Gerome drew the panties down her long shapely legs, and off one ankle. He then reached up on the sofa for a large pillow. Sliding his hand under her belly, he lifted her up and slid the pillow under her midsection. He then settled between her splayed thighs and began to dip his tongue into her fully exposed cunt and to tease her lust engorged clit. I had always heard, and bought into the stereotype, that blacks didn’t like oral sex. But Gerome went after my wife’s lust bloated pussy like a man possessed. His tongue dipping into her soppy cunt and then flicking her hardened clit, with occasional attention to her puckered brown star was having its effect. My wife was nearly deep-throating my cock, something she had never been able to do, in her effort to drain my balls of her favorite beverage. I felt it as time for the ultimate test and signaled Gerome. The lusty young black man raised to his knees, between my wife’s splayed legs. Unzipping the fly of his jeans, he released the largest cock I had ever seen. I have a nice size cock at nearly 9 inches, but Gerome’s was close to 14 and what made it truly magnificent was it was as big around as my wife’s wrist. It was only partially erect when first released from his jeans, but a couple of good strokes and the huge black fuck-tool was fully hard and ready for action. The dark black head glistened with the precum that had oozed from it while he had stroked it to full erection. Gerome scooted up further and began to trace the bloated lips of my wife’s pussy, slickening the head of his cock further with her juices to prepare for penetration. The feel of the cock tracing her pussy caused my wife to look up at me, though she never stopped sucking my cock. The look in her eyes said don’t you think its time to put a stop to this.sex storyAt that very moment, Gerome began to penetrate my wife’s tight, wet cunt with his massive cudgel. The first thrust sent 8 inches of the huge Alabama black snake into her steamy hole. My wife gasped at the fullness of the sudden intrusion and stopped sucking my cock momentarily. On the second thrust I heard Gerome’s belly slap against my wife’s ass and knew he had sunk all 14 inches into her. For her part my wife just moaned at the fullness this fucking cock was stretching her too, and again drew my cock back into her mouth for another round of enthusiastic sucking. As Gerome continued to thrust into her, my wife gradually was coming up onto her hands and knees in an effort to meet his thrusts with counter-thrusts of her own. The slut in my wife had finally been set free and she was actively fucking another man as she sucked me. There could be no doubt that she was a willing participant even if booze and drugs had been used to break down her false inhibitions. On her hands and knees now, I pulled her blouse, a simple tee, up around her armpits and unlatched her bra. The slapping noise that Gerome’s fucking had caused, caught the attention of the other guys and they all quickly surrounded the three of us. Not saying a word, only indicating with gestures, I had two of them lay on their backs and begin to suck the turgid nipples of her small breasts. My wife’s breasts, being as small as they are, are extremely sensitive to any attention at all. As the two men sucked and nipped the erect nipples, she responded by hoovering my cock even more vigorously. After a few more moments, I emptied my balls into her mouth. She lost nary a drop as she swallowed every squirt of her treasured prize. I gestured at one of the other guys to take my place and just before she inhaled his offered cock into her mouth, she screamed as the first full-blown vaginal orgasm of the evening ripped through her. “FUCK ME LOVER. FUCK MY CUNT. HURT MY LITTLE WHITE PUSSY WITH THAT BIG BLACK COCK OF YOURS. FUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKK MMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEE.” Gerome was slamming into her hard now. My wife was rocking back to meet his inward thrusts, then rocking forward to capture the cock in her mouth again before rocking back against Gerome again. I was in heaven watching from across the room through the viewfinder of the video camera as I captured every moment. But now for that special shot before Gerome blew his load, putting him out of action for a brief while. I walked to the group and stopped them all with gestures again. My wife looked up at me with lust in her eyes and a look that said why are you stopping them. I took her hand and stood her up, then led her down the hall toward the guestroom. I knew she would never approve of fucking another man in our bed and this way too, our bed would still be ok to sleep in if we made it to sleeping this night. As we walked, I completed the disrobing of her fully exposed body. The guys had followed without being told to and I laid my wife down on the guest bed. The two that had been sucking her nipples lay down on either side of her and went back to sucking. My wife’s hands came down to caress the backs of the heads of the two guys and her eyes closed as she gave into the lust consuming her body once more. I told Gerome not to resume fucking her until I returned with the video camera, and left the room. When I returned, I set the video tripod at the foot of the bed and zoomed in on her steamy pussy. I had never seen my wife’s lips so bloated before or her clit standing so erect. It looked like she had a small penis growing from between her labia. I gestured to Gerome and her crawled between her legs. I caught the most beautiful sight on tape to view again and again, as her cunt opened up and swallowed the huge black fuckstick Gerome was shoving into her. The contrast of black cock disappearing into white cunt was truly the most erotic sight I had ever seen, and the fact the cunt belonged to my wife made it even more so. Now my dictionary defines the word cuckold as a man whose wife is unfaithful. I have always heard it said it is a man who likes to watch his wife getting fucked by strangers. If that is the true definition, I became an out-of-the-closet cuckold at that very moment. Watching that big black cock drive into her petite body, seeing her legs in the air and hips thrusting against Gerome’s thrusts and hearing the moans of pure animal lust coming out of her were enough to give me my second hard of the night. My wife for her part was moaning in cadence with the cock thrusting into her. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. As her next orgasm approached she got louder. “FUCK ME. FUCK ME. FUCK ME. FUCK ME.” Then as Gerome let loose his hot seed into her belly he triggered another orgasm. “FUCK ME. FUCK MY CUNT. YES, YES, HOSE ME DOWN WITH YOUR HOT CUM. DROWN MY CUNT WITH YOUR CUM. OH YES, FUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK MMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.” After Gerome finished unloading into her and climbed off, one of the other guys climbed on. For the next several hours it was a continuous chain of fucking cocks. As quick as one would blow in her, another would take his place. My wife was usually sucking on one trying to get him ready to fuck her again, while another pounded on her cunt. She was being her own fluffer. But she had always loved sucking cocks, even telling me of men she sucked even though she wouldn’t fuck them. I was treated to watching her lovingly suck Gerome’s cock into readiness a couple of times that evening. Again the erotic sight of that big black cock disappearing into her white face was soooooooo arousing. Followed by it disappearing into her willing cunt. My wife is a fair complected blond, and Gerome one of those extremely dark African-Americans whose cock is even black at the head, so the contrast was even more stark. Her orgasms had started to come continually, which wasn’t unusual for her after she got the first two. So the chant of “Fuck me” was also continuous, only stopping while a different lover crawled between her legs. If a lover took too much time getting into her cunt with his cock, she would chide him to hurry and fuck her. I told you my wife was a world-class slut. Yet, in spite of the fact I knew this, she even surprised me that night. My wife had been abused anally by an insensitive lover at one point in her life and the resulting damage to her tiny ass had led to infection, embarrassment and weeks of physical pain. But the most severe damage had been emotional. And though she loved me to tongue her ass or finger her ass with a well-lubricated finger, while I fucked her, she would never let me stick my rather large cock into her ass and fuck it good and proper.hot incest storiesAfter a couple of hours of fucking though, most of the time being double penetrated with a cock in her mouth while one worked her cunt over, she announced she wanted to be triple penetrated. She had one of the men lie on the bed and she mounted his erect cock taking it deep into her cunt. Then selecting the man with obviously the smallest cock, she handed him a small jar of Vaseline from the nightstand and had him lube up and put his cock into her ass. She chided him to go slowly until he was buried balls deep in her ass. Then she called Gerome over to her head and began to suck his stiffening cock. After a few minutes the three cocks were stroking her without mercy, but after she managed to suck Gerome dry, it became obvious she was experiencing the best fucking of her life as she chanted. “Fuck me. Fuck my ass. FUCK MY ASS YOU BASTARD. FUCK ME HARD YOU SONS-OF-BITCHES. CUM IN MY ASS. I WANNA FEEL YOUR CUM IN MY ASS. FUCK MY ASS. FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKK MMMMMMEEEEEE.” The guys fucked on her for about four hours. Each fucked her at least three times. A couple, including the undeniable Gerome, four times and one even five I think. Oh the staying power of youthful lust. After all left around two in the morning, my wife was covered from head to toe with dried or drying cum. I helped her to bathe and to bed. We slept the sleep of the dead curled in each other’s arms and woke as the late morning sun illuminated our bedroom. The thought had occurred to me the hell to pay might come in the morning as I drifted off. My dreams though were of cocks coming from every angle at my willing slutty wife, and dreams of becoming a millionaire selling amateur videos of my wife, the newest porn queen, on the Internet. As I awoke, I rose and went to the kitchen, preparing coffee for me and setting my wife’s teapot to boil. Her tea was ready as she entered our country kitchen a few minutes later, and any worries of recrimination by morning’s light were quickly dispelled. As she sat to her tea and the toasted English muffin I had prepared for her, she quipped “Remind me never to smoke pot and drink Margarita’s in the same evening again.” As if on queue, I asked why. With a wink and then a smile she said, ” MARGARITA’S AND POT MAKE MY PUSSY HURT!” I proved myself right, in that, since that night, I have no trouble getting my wife to participate in sexual events that involve third, fourth, and more parties. In fact, if she sees a strange man or woman (yes, it turns out my wife is BI) that turns her on sexually, she won’t hesitate to ask and I will attempt to set up a liaison. Sometimes the women are reluctant, but my wife is so attractive, the men have never been. We only have two rules. One I must always be present, so she isn’t cheating (a loose distinction I know, but it works for us) and two, we keep it within limits. No obsession with it, so we usually confine it to two or three times a quarter. Oh, in case you wondered, my wife wouldn’t allow anyone to see the videos except those who participate, so there goes my dream of riches. I always video the events and sometimes participate, but usually I am just the voyeur behind the camera. I will have to tell you about some of these sometime, but that is another story for another time. Ok, we all know I am a sick puppy, even so if you have comments or suggestions, write me at

Another year, another Wimbledon, another semi-final … another match point. Tina had heard it said that history repeats itself, but this was surely pushing it. How could she have been so stupid…? She knew exactly how, of course. Ever since that fateful day this time last year, women’s tennis had changed beyond recognition. The photos in the next day’s papers had won her immediate condemnation from a bunch of people she did not care about, while also earning immediate super-celebrity status as one of the world’s leading sex symbols. The fact that she had ended up losing the match made no difference at all. The job offers came rolling in, though she politely declined all requests that she pose nude for men’s magazines, and her bank balance grew and grew…This fact was not lost on her fellow tennis starlets. At last year’s US Open, a succession of tiny microskirts made their way out on to the courts, and soon Tina found herself facing stiff competition. One girl, in particular, seemed to have hardly any inhibitions at all – her name was Laura Lessing and she had won the hearts and loins of millions of male admirers across the globe. She had first made news by wearing bright red French-cut panties under her short skirt, and though she received reprimands from numerous umpires she continued to wear similar underwear in tournament after tournament. Her skirts were generally not excessively minuscule, but they were made of such a light material that they flew up around her waist at the slightest breeze, and she was not quick to cover her modesty. She obviously adored the limelight.As did Tina, who found herself driven to further exhibitionistic acts on the court just so she could keep herself in the media spotlight. In the French Open, she had worn a skirt that only barely covered her buttocks, with lacy panties beneath. The skirt was made of a stiff material that would neither fly up nor ride up, but whenever she bent over she knew she was showing her panties to the crowds and the cameras.Her fan sites doubled in number, then trebled. Fan mail poured in, as did the contracts, and she carefully ignored the vicious backlash from conservative groups. The people she had intended to thrill were thrilled.For this year’s Wimbledon, she had prepared well. The stretchy skirt idea had been a good one, but it had been flawed. Now, however, she had ironed out the problems. A skirt had been designed and made for her specially – one that would ride up as she moved, but not too quickly. Unlike her night-club skirt of the previous year, this one would not end up around her waist. Indeed, even after the longest, most vigorous points, it would uncover no more than a centimetre of the lower curves of her buttocks. Thus she could be sexy, but safe in the knowledge that she was in control.The dress code for this Wimbledon had been re-written. With new money pouring into the game, big name sponsors had put pressure on the rules committee to allow the female players a little flexibility. In short, the players could wear skirts of any length as long as they covered the buttocks while the player was at rest and standing straight, and the underwear rules had been relaxed to permit any kind of underwear except thongs and g-strings. There had been fierce opposition to these changes, and a few resignations had occurred. But the changes had stuck.So, on the first day of the Wimbledon fortnight, Tina had strode on to the court wearing a semi-stretchy white miniskirt that covered her buttocks with almost an inch to spare, with a pair of pale blue French-cut panties underneath. The outfit had gone down a storm. Every day for the last week and a half, she had graced several pages of each and every tabloid in the country. She practically received a standing ovation every time she walked out on to the court.And today she faced Laura Lessing. Laura had received a similarly rapturous welcome on her first day, as she appeared on court wearing not only her trademark ‘flying’ skirt, but also a tight tank top through which the outline of her bra was clearly visible. The tabloids contained nearly as many photos of Laura as they did of Tina. In fact, over the last couple of days Tina had been incensed to discover herself almost marginalised by full-page spreads of Laura’s latest gimmick – a pair of French-cut panties that had been judiciously altered to turn them almost, but not quite, into a thong. And the committee did not object! This angered Tina. Laura was flouting the new rules and getting away with it!So last night, Tina had decided she was not going to be outdone in her own match. She had summoned her tailor (she never went anywhere without him these days), and given him the job of ‘editing’ her own panties. She showed him the picture of Laura’s bottom adorning the front page of The Quasar. “I want you to make mine even skimpier than that,” she said, “while still not being a thong.”Gerard’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “That … will be tricky,” he remarked. “But I’ll give it a try.”And so he had. The following morning, Tina was impressed with the result.“That will surely slip between my buttocks,” she observed critically.“It will, after a short while,” agreed Gerard. “But it’s not a thong – not quite. And I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of pulling it out of your arse every few points in front of the cameras.”Tina considered this, and a smile came to her lips. “Yes…” she said.“That will be fun.”But Martin, her manager, was outraged when he saw the garment. “You cannot wear that!” he exclaimed. “It’s hardly any bigger than the thong you wore last year! And just remember – you almost got banned from Wimbledon on account of that little stunt.”“It wasn’t a stunt!” objected Tina. “But that’s academic anyway. They’ve relaxed the rules since then, as well you know.”“But there are still rules,” Martin insisted. “And one of them is that thongs aren’t allowed.”“This isn’t a thong,” said Tina.“It virtually is. And when it’s bunched up between your butt cheeks, who’s going to know the difference?”“Who indeed?” Tina smiled wryly. “But I can easily prove to them that it isn’t.”Martin frowned, then turned on his heel and walked away.“He’ll get over it,” Gerard told her. “Now, about this top…”“Oh yes! Do you have it?”“It’s in your bag,” said the tailor. “Check it out – I think you’ll like it.”Tina hurried through to her room and placed the almost-thong on her bed next to her equipment bag. Opening the bag, she smiled as she spotted a white cut-off t-shirt folded neatly on the top. She smiled to herself.This was her latest gambit – exposure of the midriff. She pulled it out and held it up, giggling naughtily. Then she pulled out the miniskirt and sighed happily as she imagined the whole combination. This was going to be a good day. Finally she went through the rest of the equipment in the bag, making sure it was all present. She was not going to make the same mistake she had made this time last year!Placing her racquets in the bag first, she re-packed everything, leaving her clothing until last. She hesitated for a moment, then resisted the temptation to try the clothes on before packing them, too. She laid the panties and the skirt side by side on top of her track suit, then placed the t-shirt on top.“Tina?”She turned around at the sound of her manager’s voice. “Yes Martin?”“Waldo’s here – he wants to talk to you about tonight’s do.”Tina frowned. “Couldn’t he have phoned?”“He was in the hotel,” explained Martin. “Thought he’d ‘just drop by’ or something.”“Okay, I’m coming.” Tina stood up and went out to meet her agent.Waldo was a tall man with a thick crop of wild grey hair that always looked as if he’d been out in a strong wind. He had a habit of finishing every other sentence with “don’t you know” and his eyebrows bobbed up and down as he talked. Tina found him rather intimidating, but he was the best agent she’d had.“Ahem, well Tina, good morning and how do you do,” he pronounced sternly.“I’ve been chewing the old fat with the blokes at the press office and they happened to bring up the subject of interviews, don’t you know. So I thought to myself, as I am wont to do, ‘now here if I am not greatly mistaken is an opportunity old boy’ and …”Tina only half-listened, fascinated by his eyebrows, as Waldo trundled on through a terribly one-sided conversation at the end of which he paused, awaiting her response. She shook herself. “Ah, whatever you think is best, Waldo,” she said. “I trust your judgment.”“Most gratifying I am sure, well I’ll be tootling off now if you’ll pardon my flying visit – oh and I have another advertising contract I need to discuss with you, but it can wait until tonight, what? Or even tomorrow don’t you know. Toodle-pip.” And with that he swept out of the room.“We should be leaving,” said Martin, coming back into the room. “Are you ready?”“Sure,” said Tina. “Let me grab my bag.”She walked back into her bedroom and reached down to zip up her bag. Then she stopped. Something was not quite right. Her eyes narrowing, she slid her hand down the side of the bag and pulled out a white object that she had just glimpsed the corner of. It was a pair of conservative white panties.Annoyed, she flung them on to the floor. “Thought you’d try to convince me of the error of my ways, did you Martin?” she muttered.She said nothing to Martin as they left the hotel, and only in the car did she finally break her silence. “Honestly Martin,” she reprimanded him.“Sometimes you act just like my mother.”“Huh?” Martin looked puzzled.“The panties?”“Oh.” Martin flushed and responded defensively, “Well I’m sorry, but there are limits, you know.”“Just forget it,” said Tina.In the Centre Court changing rooms she met up with her arch-rival, and today’s opponent, Laura Lessing. “Hi,” said Tina rather coldly.“Hi Tina!” Laura gushed. “Wow, I’m so happy to be playing against you at last! You are my absolute hero, you know.”Tina was utterly disarmed, and found herself rather flustered. “Well, I…” she began. “Thank you! That’s nice of you to say so.”“I think it’s great what you’ve done for women’s tennis,” continued Laura.“You’ve possibly seen my, um … tributes … to your groundbreaking stunt last year…”“It wasn’t…” Tina began, before changing her mind. “Well, I guess I always figured you were trying to outdo me,” she said. “You must admit you’ve become rather popular yourself…”“I know!” Laura’s eyes were like saucers, as if she could barely comprehend the idea. “Isn’t it amazing? I mean, I’m nowhere near as pretty as you – I’m just overwhelmed at the attention I’ve got.”Tina chuckled. “Have you ever thought of, you know, toning it down a little?”Laura looked surprised. “Why, no,” she said. “Have you?” But she did not wait for a response before continuing in a conspiratorial whisper, “I just love to go a little further each time, you see. I know sooner or later I’ll get into trouble, but isn’t it amazing what they’ll let you get away with this year?”“Yes, it is,” agreed Tina. She sighed and began to undress. “Guess we’d better get into our skimpy outfits then.”Laura giggled. “Ooh yes,” she said.Tina pulled her t-shirt and skirt out of her bag, then stared into her bag in horror. Her heart plummeted into her shoes. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.“What is it?” asked Laura in alarm.“My panties! They’re not here!”“What? Are you sure?”Tina suddenly realised with a shock that Martin had not only placed a conservative pair of panties in her bag, he had removed the other pair at the same time! “I don’t believe it!” she said. “My manager’s taken them out!”“Can’t you wear what you’re wearing now?” inquired Laura. “As I understand it, that’s what you did last year.”“I’m not wearing underwear,” hissed Tina sharply.“Ah,” said Laura. “Oops.”“Hey, are you wearing panties?” asked Tina on a sudden thought.“Yes but…”“Great! Can I wear them?”“No! I’m wearing the ones I’ll be wearing on the court!”“Oh.” Tina was crestfallen. “Good grief, what a fix.”“What skirt have you got?” inquired Laura.Tina showed her.Laura nodded. “Ah yes, I know that one. It doesn’t ride up much, does it?”“Not much,” conceded Tina. “But enough, probably.”“Maybe not, if you’re careful. And won’t it be awesome? Think of it – the first woman to play tennis at a Grand Slam tournament without panties!” Tina groaned. “I suppose it’s possible I might get away with it,” she said. “But I’ll be giving you the advantage.”Laura waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense,” she said airily. “You’re the better player – you’ll have no problems.”Tina stared at Laura, perplexed. “What kind of pep-talk do you give yourself?” she inquired. “Are you expecting to lose?”“I don’t mind.” Laura shrugged. “I’m just out to play my best and have a good time. I don’t have any illusions.”Tina shook her head in great puzzlement, then sighed as she considered her position. Eventually she decided to bite the bullet, and changed into her miniskirt, sports bra and cut-off t-shirt. The latter item caught her by surprise – it was far tighter than she had imagined.Laura whistled. “Wow, sexy!” Tina chuckled. The top really was tight – it clung to every curve of her breasts and the bra beneath made highly visible ridges in its fabric. She decided she rather liked the effect.But then she noticed what Laura was wearing. She gasped. “Oh my goodness!” Laura had really pulled out all the stops, knowing she was up against the woman who had started the whole revolution in women’s tennis wear. Her light skirt had been drastically reduced in length – it barely covered her buttocks – and she was wearing a tight lycra crop-top that made Tina’s t-shirt seem almost conservative. “How do I look?” she asked.“You look … naked!” exclaimed Tina.Laura giggled. “Why thank you!” she said.The two girls donned their track suits and walked out to meet the crowd, to whistles and cheers and great applause. They lapped it up. Then Martin arrived.“Where have you been?” Tina hissed.“Getting a drink,” he said. “What’s up?”“What’s up??” Tina fought to control her anger. “Martin you idiot, I didn’t realise you’d taken my panties out of my bag!”“Huh?”“Those ones you put in there – I threw them away! Now I have nothing!” Martin gasped in shock. “Oh … my … God,” he managed at last.“Tell me about it. Now do you think you can go and get me some?”“Well, I’ll try,” he said, “but you know what the traffic’s like. Remember the last time?”“You don’t need to go all the way back to the hotel,” she told him. “Just find a clothes shop.”Martin nodded. “Okay,” he said, and hurried off.The sky was overcast as the two girls took off their track suits to rapturous applause. Cameras snapped in their hundreds. Tina had stomach butterflies as she began her warm up with a few serves from the right-hand side of the court. But her skirt stayed put (pretty much), and she made sure its hem stayed well below her buttocks. The breeze on her naked pussy made her feel terribly uneasy, but she forced herself not to think about it, and tried to concentrate on serving well.Meanwhile, Laura was getting all the attention. She was leaping high in every serve, her skirt flying up to reveal a pair of white silk panties that were almost as small as the ones Tina had been planning to wear. And they looked as if they were several sizes too small. Already the material at the back was creeping between her buttocks, and she made no attempt to rectify the situation. And she took her time about bending over (with straight legs) to pick up balls from the grass.Tina was a little relieved not to have all the cameras scrutinising her, but also rather annoyed that the crowd was watching Laura and not her.Nevertheless, she did not dare to let her skirt ride any higher than it was doing already, so she forced herself to ignore her opponent’s exhibitionistic antics and the crowd’s response.The match began. As expected, Tina’s skirt did not ride up much, and she began to relax a little. She was careful not to allow any point to go on for too long (sometimes this meant giving Laura the occasional point, but she could afford them), and gradually she began to feel that she was, after all, in control. After four games, the score was 3:1, and Tina was about to serve in the fifth when it began to rain.It was just a light drizzle, but after only a couple of points the grass was beginning to get slippery, and after a meaningful glance from Tina, the umpire ordered the covers to be brought out. Tina was relieved – it would buy her some time before Martin got back.But the covers were not on for long. Five minutes later the rain had ceased, and the players were cleared to resume the game. This they did, but this time Laura had the advantage. The damp grass caused them both to slip on several occasions, but whereas Laura took this in her stride, relishing the opportunity to flash her panties yet again, Tina could not afford to let her skirt ride up at all. So she played it safe, taking only small steps, while Laura capitalised on the opportunity to break serve for the first time.The drizzle began again in the next game, but stopped after only a couple of minutes. Tina was by now getting rather frustrated. She lost to Laura’s serve, then lost her own serve after that. Things were not going well. On the positive side, the rain was causing her t-shirt to cling even tighter to her chest, and the material was even easier to see through now that it was damp.Laura could not help but notice this as she came all the way up to the net to slam home a winning cross-court volley. She realised that her own crop top was not the type of garment to turn transparent in the rain, and she wished she had thought to wear a thin t-shirt like Tina’s. But perhaps there was something else she could do…At the beginning of the ninth game, with the score at 5:3 (to Laura), Tina bounced a ball in front of her, glancing occasionally at her opponent. She watched as Laura hopped from one foot to the other, bouncing on the spot, and then frowned. Laura seemed a little more … bouncy? than usual.And then she realised the startling truth: that her opponent had taken off her bra! Laura’s crop top was now bouncing under the influence of a pair of decidedly unfettered breasts (and Laura’s chest was fairly large for a tennis player).“Two can play at that game,” thought Tina to herself, and she clenched her teeth in a new resolve.Determined to pull herself back into the match, Tina began to take a few more risks. She managed to win her serve, but then had a nasty fright in Laura’s service game. While running at full-stretch to intercept an attempted pass, she slipped and abruptly did the splits (almost) on the damp grass. She squealed in horror and immediately closed her legs, pulling her skirt down to cover her neatly-trimmed pubic hair.There were one or two puzzled stares from the crowd, but the glimpse had been too brief for them to be sure about what they had seen. Tina could almost hear their comments: “Did you just see what I saw? Well, I’m not sure… it looked like she’s not wearing panties… Of course, I could be wrong…”She got to her feet, somewhat rattled, and returned to the baseline. The next couple of points went badly, and soon she found herself facing the wrong end of a set point. Biting her lip in anxiety, she was almost wrong-footed as the ball came hurtling down the court to her right-hand side. She launched herself towards it.Her foot slipped, and shot backwards. She sank to the floor as the ball whipped past her unmet. Her skirt had ridden up again and she hastily pulled it down as she got to her feet. Again, the whispers…“Game and first set to Miss Lessing,” announced the umpire.Tina sighed unhappily and prepared to serve. The lack of a bra certainly had not severely handicapped her opponent’s game. In fact, she seemed to have acquired a new confidence and was making very few errors. Still, her serve was not strong and could be beaten.By serving well, and taking some judicious risks, Tina succeeded in winning her service game. Smiling to herself as she sat down, she decided to up the stakes in the battle for the press’s attention. As surreptitiously as she could, she unclasped her bra and slipped it off, pulling it out through the left arm-hole of her t-shirt and dropping it into her bag. Immediately the damp t-shirt clung to her bare breasts, and with an involuntary shiver she realised she could just make out her nipples through the thin material. She was sure that the press cameras would also be able to see them.Without bra or panties, she walked out on to the court in just a cut-off t-shirt and a microskirt. Feeling naked and vulnerable but also rather aroused, she winked at Laura before her opponent served. The sensation of playing with no restraints on her breasts, however, was too unfamiliar and her return went wide. Laura’s next serve she pounded back into the net.Cursing to herself, she prepared to try again. She was annoyed with herself for having so much difficulty playing without a bra, when Laura seemed to be managing just fine.‘She probably practices without a bra all the time,’ she thought to herself suddenly. ‘Oh heck, what have I let myself in for?’ She lost that game, and then her own service game. Now 2:1 down, she watched as Laura prepared to serve once again. Her nineteen-year-old opponent’s crop top seemed a little skimpier somehow, and Tina frowned.What had the dratted girl done now? A brief rendezvous at the net in the next point answered her question.Laura had folded over part of her top, so that not only was it now more revealing, but it was also serving to keep her breasts in place more effectively. This was a clever plan, but it was risky – too much bouncing and Laura’s breasts would pop out from underneath the crop top. No doubt that added to the girl’s thrill.The drizzle began again, but not before Tina had broken serve, and then held on to her own serve, to bring the score to 3:2. As the two girls sat down in their respective places, the umpire leaned over to speak to Tina.“Miss Hathaway?” he said.Tina looked up guiltily. She folded her arms across her chest, convinced he was going to reprimand her for removing her bra. But she was mistaken.“How’s the court?” he asked. “I’m considering abandoning play, but it’s up to you two. Miss Lessing is happy to continue, so it’s your decision.”Tina thought for a moment. Martin was not back yet, but he surely would be soon. And she was beginning to play better now. Finally she was back in the lead, and she was becoming confident she could stay ahead until the end of this set. Furthermore, she was enjoying the way the drizzle was making her t-shirt more see-through every minute. “I’m okay for the moment,” she said. “It’s not that bad out there.”“Very well,” said the umpire, nodding.Tina took a swig from her water bottle, then got up and returned to the court.Two lost games later, she was regretting her decision. The drizzle had stopped, but the ground was still rather wet and slippery. She no longer felt she had an excuse for requesting that play be abandoned, and her t-shirt was not getting any more transparent. Facing what could possibly be her penultimate game of this tournament, she decided to go all out in her efforts to win the publicity battle. If she could not win the match, at least she could still steal the next day’s headlines from that upstart Laura.Carefully and deliberately, she poured the remaining contents of her water bottle over her chest, making sure she covered both breasts equally. The material quickly turned almost completely transparent, and despite herself she gasped at the sight of her breasts staring back at her. The wet t-shirt clung tightly to every contour and concealed nothing.Holding her head high (while trying not to meet anyone’s gaze), she marched out on to the court once again. Laura did the same, but then her jaw dropped as she saw Tina’s transformation. Tina saw her giggle and then hold up a thumb in admiring support.“Miss Hathaway…” came the umpire’s voice over the loudspeaker.Tina trotted over to speak to him.The umpire leaned over and said, “Enough is enough, Miss Hathaway. This is not a wet t-shirt contest, it is a tennis match. The new rules regarding the dress code are there to encourage freedom of expression, not indecent behaviour. Do you have another shirt?”“I’m afraid not,” confessed Tina.The umpire sighed. “And where is your bra?”“It broke,” Tina lied.“All right, but one more lewd act on your part and I will disqualify you and ban you from the tournament. The whole tone of this event has dropped through the floor, and I’m damned if I’m going to take it any more.”Tina nodded. “I understand.” Rather subdued, she returned to the court.The game went badly. Tina found her t-shirt highly distracting, and with every bounce it rode higher and higher and threatened to expose her breasts to the world. Soon it was revealing as much flesh as Laura’s crop top.Nevertheless, she liked the effect and did not attempt to replace it, until she heard a warning cough from the umpire. She hastily pulled it down.She lost that game, and prepared to serve to stay in the match. She served well, but a good return surprised her and she failed to clear the net with her follow-up shot. Then she noticed that her vigorous serve had resulted in her t-shirt being hoisted up high on her chest. Only a half-inch of material extended below the lower curve of her breasts. Rather reluctantly, she pulled the t-shirt down.The next few serves had similar effects, but a longer point almost resulted in her breasts popping free of the t-shirt entirely. She won two points, but also lost two.So now she was at match point, again, and this time her predicament was even worse. What could she do? If she preserved her modesty and lost, was that any better than going all out and perhaps being banned from the rest of the tournament? Probably not.She served, and at once felt her t-shirt climb up again. But she ignored it and concentrated on trying to predict where Laura’s return would end up.It was short – that was good. Tina raced forward and whipped the ball over to the far corner. But Laura, realising the danger, was already almost there. She hammered it back down the line, and Tina had to lunge to reach it. She made it, just, and the ball bounced high off her racquet – a mis-hit.Laura was quick to take advantage, her chest bouncing as she ran around the back of the ball. She attempted to fire it down the right-hand line, but Tina caught it at the net with a drop volley. However, it bounced harder off her racquet than she had intended, leaving Laura with an easy opportunity for a lob. Tina raced backwards, only to find to her horror that Laura was not going for the lob at all. She was responding with a drop shot of her own.Tina sprinted forwards, just reaching the ball in time. But as she dug her feet in to brake herself, they slid on the wet grass, shooting right under the net. Tina yelped as she fell to the ground and slid forwards on her back. Her skirt, caught by the net as she passed beneath it, was yanked up to her waist. Her t-shirt was pulled up by sheer friction, both on the ground and on the bottom of the net, until it was wrapped around her neck.At this point Tina came to an abrupt halt, with her head on one side of the net and her rather unclothed body on the other.The crowd fell into a stunned silence, then erupted in a cacophony of wolf-whistles, cheers and thunderous applause. The umpire’s announcement of “Game, set and match to Miss Lessing” went completely unheard. Laura, meanwhile, walked over to where Tina was lying with her pussy and breasts fully exposed to the crowd and to the world’s photographers. She looked down at Tina and smiled.“You win,” she said.THE END

Pete had been friends with Steve since he had first graduated from college and gotten his first job. He remembered…

“Wendy, I’ve told you before. You are NOT going out without a bra on, and that’s final,” said Wendy’s mother, Bea, as she caught her daughter sneaking out of the house for school. One glance at her daughter’s tight school blouse had confirmed that her fourteen-year-old daughter had not put one on, again.“Oh mom, c’mon, I’m late for school!” complained Wendy, looking down at her own chest – was it that obvious?“Not my problem. I told you before that you’re not to go to school without one.”“Aw, mom, no-one will know!”“Wendy,” sighed Bea, she’d been through this argument many times, “I told you before – you’re a big girl now. You can’t go out like that, it really does show.”“I’ll put one on tomorrow, promise. It’s just that I’m late now,” said Wendy trying to get away.“No!” yelled her exasperated mother and grabbed Wendy’s arm. Pulling her back into the hall she closed the front door firmly.“Look!” she said, pushing Wendy in front of the hall mirror. “Can’t you see?”“See what?” said Wendy in an annoyed, bored tone.At that moment, Mark, Wendy’s younger brother came through the hall on his way to school.“Nice tits!” he said, cheekily.“That’s enough of that!” called Bea at his retreating back. Mark slammed the door noisily.Wendy sulked in front of the mirror. Bea tried a conciliatory tone. “Look Wendy, it really does show.”She pulled Wendy’s tight-fitting school blouse in slightly at the waist making her breasts stand out even more. The nipples poked the material into small peaks. Wendy was large breasted, like her mother, and her breasts, that months ago had seemed like puppy fat were now becoming all too apparent as she slimmed down.“It’s my body – I don’t have to do what you say!” spat back Wendy.This made Bea angry – she had tried being nice with no result.“Wendy! You are NOT going out without a bra and that’s my final word!” she yelled.“Screw you!” hurled back Wendy.Bea looked at her daughter, shocked. Her daughter stood before her, chest thrust out defiantly. She had never heard her daughter use such language or that tone on her before. Enraged, she lashed out and slapped Wendy firmly across her breasts with her open hand. Wendy screamed in surprise and the stinging pain but was so angry with her mother that she slapped her mother back. Bea had not yet dressed and Wendy’s hand slapped her straight across her large breasts that were covered by nothing except the flimsy material of her night dress. The slap caused tears of pain to run down her cheeks. Bea was livid.“How dare you slap me young lady!” she roared and made a well-aimed slap connect with Wendy’s breasts again.Wendy clutched her chest in agony before launching herself at her mother with fury. Grabbing handfuls of her mother’s ample breasts she squeezed the flesh hard, making her mother gasp with pain as she pushed her back against the wall. In retaliation, Bea reached out and grabbed her daughter’s breasts, tearing open the buttons of her school blouse in the process and exposing the smaller, but well-formed breasts of her daughter.Now mother and daughter engaged in a battle of will versus pain. Staring defiantly into each other’s eyes they kneaded, twisted and pulled at each other’s breasts as pain seared through their bodies.Eventually, due to her superior strength, Bea began to get the upper hand. Sensing near victory she pushed her daughter to her knees by her breasts and leant over her, victorious. Wendy, sensing that she was about to lose her grip on her mother’s jugs, leant forward and bit into the flesh dangling before her. He mother screamed in pain.“You vicious little bitch!” she screamed and released her grip on Wendy’s young breasts immediately.Wendy savoured her moment of victory over her mother and bit harder into the tender breast whilst simultaneously reaching up and tugging viciously on the exposed nipple of the other. Her mother now sobbed in agony, begging her daughter to release her tender breasts from her clasp. Wendy was unsure whether to trust her mother yet and held on a little longer but once she was certain that her mother had given up the fight she let go and stood defiantly in front of her, her own sore breasts pointed naked and proud in front of her.Bea clutched at her reddening sore breasts, scooping one up to examine the damage left by Wendy’s vicious mouth. She felt a little faint as the waves of pain receded. Wiping away a tear she said, “You were always biting me when you fed from these too.”Wendy suddenly felt very guilty at what she had done to her mother. The woman who had given birth to her and had fed her at her own breast.“Oh mom, I’m so sorry….” she started, looking down at her mother’s exposed breasts that were reddening from the pummelling they had received at her hands. Instinctively she reached out to touch one, to make it feel better, but her mother flinched away as she reached out.“Oh mom, I’m not going to hurt you any more. I just wanted to make you feel better!”Slowly, cautiously, Bea dropped her hands from her sore and aching breasts as Wendy reached up to gently hold them. She gently stroked the area that she had bitten, her face wincing with imagined pain at the hurt she had just caused. Bea smiled and reached up her own hands to cup her daughter’s tender breasts and gently stroked the red streaked flesh better.Bea grinned broadly. “Look at us,” she said and Wendy had to laugh at the ridiculous sight they made in the mirror – mother and daughter, stroking each other’s bruised and battered breasts.“Come on,” she said, “Go and sit down and I’ll get some ice – you can’t go to school like that!”While Wendy went and flopped on the sofa, Bea went to the kitchen and fetched some ice that she rolled up inside a cloth. All the time she felt a strong throbbing ache from her own breasts.Kneeling beside Wendy she first told her to remove the ripped school blouse she was wearing. Wendy winced as she tried to undo the remaining buttons so Bea helped her daughter with it, undoing the buttons down to her waist then finally pulling it off her arms, leaving her daughter’s chest fully exposed. Gently she put the ice-pack to her daughter’s sore breasts and dabbed at the tender teats very carefully.“Ooh!” shivered Wendy. “Thanks mom. That feels really great – why don’t you try it?”She took the cloth from her mother’s hands and, slipping the ripped night dress from her mother’s shoulders, tended to her breasts with the ice-pack. Bea hung her head back, letting her long hair slide down her back and enjoyed the sensations of the ice-pack being gently moved over her full breasts. She could not prevent her nipples from becoming taught under the sensations, causing a frisson of pleasure and pain. Bea had thick, long nipples and in hardening they tugged at her breasts. Wendy giggled at the sight of them erecting under her ministrations; they were like two independent creatures. Playfully she brushed the back of her hand over one nipple, enjoying the rubbery feeling and the way it bounced back into position. Her mother winced at the sensation.“Ouch! That’s really tender right now!” she complained.“Sorry mom,” said Wendy. She looked down at her own nipples which had also hardened into two tight little nubs, but they were nowhere near the size of her mother’ immense teats. Wendy felt slightly envious and wondered if her own breasts would ever be as large as her mother’s. She suddenly had an insane desire to suckle at one of the rubbery teats and wondered if it was a hangover from when she was a baby. Did all children have a secret longing to suckle at their mother’s breasts again? She dismissed the idea from her mind and went back to dabbing the ice-pack on her mother’s breasts.“Mom….” began Wendy, coyly.“Yes dear? What is it?” answered her mother vaguely, eyes still shut.“Ummm, can I ask you something…?”“Anything….” breathed Bea.“Uhmmm…. Do I have to go to school today?”Bea opened her eyes and looked at her daughter sharply. Glancing at her daughter’s exposed breasts she saw that they still looked red and sore from her punishment of them. She felt a pang of guilt.“Well, no, my dear. But just for today until those get better.”Bea closed her eyes and hung back her head again. Wendy grinned happily and continued ministering to her mother’s throbbing breasts.Later that day the doorbell rang. Bea opened the door and recognised the woman immediately, it was Wendy’s teacher, Ms. Brahms. She was not smiling.“Hello Ms. Brahms, what can I do for you?”“Do you mind if I come in?”“Certainly not, come in and have a seat. Coffee?”“No. Thank you,” said Rachel Brahms coldly as she stepped past Bea and entered the living room.When they were both sitting Rachel came straight to the point, “Mrs. Lee, where is Wendy?”“Oh, in bed – she’s not feeling well today.”“Are you sure she’s really ill?”“Oh certainly, I… I examined her myself. Why do you ask?” said Bea, leaning forward.Rachel Brahms glanced down at Bea’s full breasts that surged into a cleavage in her low cut top. She couldn’t help noticing the red marks and this distraction flustered her slightly.“I… I wanted to check with you as Wendy’s taken a lot of time of school this year and I’m worried about her performance. Also, there was a more, uhm, personal matter.”Looking at Rachel, Bea could see she was somewhat uncomfortable. “Oh? And what would that be?”“Well, it’s a bit delicate, but could you ask Wendy to wear a bra to school in future?”Bea flushed. It was one thing for her to tell her own daughter to wear a bra but she resented this young teacher coming to her house and telling her what her daughter should or shouldn’t wear. She snapped.“What’s the matter? Can’t keep your eyes off them then?”Rachel’s eyes, which had once again slipped down to examining Bea’s enticing cleavage, flicked back to Bea’s face and for a face-reddening moment Rachel thought she had been talking about her looking at Bea’s own ample breasts. When she twigged she was horrified and stammered out an explanation.“Oh… oh no, I… I didn’t mean that at all! I simply meant that your daughter’s, uhm, well, breasts were a distraction to some of her classmates.” Oh dear, thought Rachel, this isn’t going at all how I imagined it.Bea sat up straight. She had noticed with contempt that Rachel had been ogling her own breasts.“I’m not so sure – you’re not exactly well stacked are you?” she said, cruelly referring to the small bumps in Rachel’s top. “Maybe you’re jealous. You certainly can’t seem to take your eyes of these,” she added, thrusting out her own full bosom.“I… I wasn’t!” stammered Rachel, blushing crimson.“Really?” said Bea and in one swift movement she had unfastened her top and her unfettered breasts sprang free.Rachel could not help but gawp at the magnificent sight of them. For the second time that day Bea felt inordinately proud of her breasts.“I… I have to go,” muttered Rachel, reluctantly tearing her eyes from Bea’s chest and standing.“Fine with me,” said Bea.Rachel rushed from the room and let herself out.As the door slammed Bea burst out laughing and Wendy joined her from the other side of the door where she’d been listening to the whole thing. Wendy too was topless; her breasts still felt too sore to be covered.“Oh mom, you were simply BRILLIANT!” she squealed and hugged her mother tightly.Naked breast to naked breast the two women embraced happily.

Teenager secretly works in a glory hole booth. Her last visitor of the night has the perfect cock, but what’s…