The girls tiptoed past Liam and Sadie’s door, and slipped quietly into Esme’s room, keeping the light off and making sure the window and balcony door were completely shut in order to keep out any noise from the street. Wordlessly, Stephanie and Alexandra arranged the furniture to let them get as close to the adjoining wall as they could while Esme retrieved glasses from the bathroom and empty minibar so she could pour the three of them generous quadruple shots of neat Stolichnaya.
Settled in moonlit silence, the giddy girls leaned closer to the wall to listen. What they first excitedly deemed to be the sexual pants and gasps of their tour sponsors turned out, from the French words spoken intermittently, to be the sound of the television. So if they weren’t actually doing it themselves, they were watching a porno! Esme switched on the hotel room television, hastily muted it, and then cycled through the increasingly insalubrious foreign channels until she identified an old seventies Euro hardcore film, all massive pubic bush, sweat, and crackly film grain. The copulation on screen was in synchronisation with the sounds coming through the wall from Sadie and Liam’s room, and so the girls all nodded in agreement that this must indeed be the rude viewing material in question.
How saucy! The gentleman on screen was a heavily moustached, hairy-chested, enormous-penised animal of a man, his lover a dainty, small-bosomed slip of a thing with an very continental aquiline nose, scarlet lipstick, and a sleek black bob. If the male lead bore little resemblance to blond, athletic hipster Liam, then his leading lady seemed very much Sadie Nightingale’s porn-twin.
‘Bit vain,’ muttered Esme quietly between sips of vodka. ‘Watchin’ ‘erself doin’ it.’
‘How does sex work without boobs?’ Alexandra whispered.
‘There’s you’re answer,’ said Stephanie, gesturing to the powerful ejaculation the man in the film was coaxing from his erection with a rapidly flurrying fist, as he masturbated animatedly onto the lady’s bared bottom. ‘Bottoms, fannies, mouths.’
‘Oh,’ said Alexandra, with an unimpressed sniff. ‘The bits all girls have, then.’
Then, a third voice was heard through the wall. It was a real voice, not one on television, a male voice, unmistakably Liam’s. A hoarse, whimpering, repetitive moan.
‘The real Sadie’s joining in, then,’ said Esme, sitting up. The three girls’ attention was now focused on the far more interesting real-life goings-on through the wall again. ‘My money’s on a blowjob.’
‘It certainly won’t be a titwank,’ said Alexandra rather bitchily.
They listened again to Liam groaning over the sound of the late-night vintage porn film.
‘It must be a blowjob,’ said Esme. ‘I haven’t heard a word out of her.’
‘And it’s rude to talk with your mouth full,’ quipped Alexandra.
‘This is making me horny,’ said Esme after another pause. She began rocking up and down on her haunches where she was kneeling on the bed, letting her huge breasts wobble slowly and heavily up and down.
‘Me too,’ grinned Alexandra, her finger idly toying a stiff nipple through the fabric of her top.
It was making Stephanie horny, too, but in a weird and annoying way. When he was a breastaholic, Liam’s drooling gaze and obvious boner during lingerie photo sessions for Nina could border on tiresome, but now that he was getting his kicks from Sadie Nightingale and her pointy salt-cellar B-cups, she felt a continued urge to seduce him and titfuck some sense back into him!
Then, the television channel in the next room was changed, the sleazy seventies music seguing to… other sleazy seventies music. Liam’s groans escalated in enthusiasm.
‘Quick, find out what they’re watching now!’ hissed Alexandra in excitement.
Esme fumbled with the remote control, turning the volume up a little until they found a porn channel with matching music. The accompanying image was another 1970s sex film, but a little different.
‘Tits!’ yelped Alexandra, pointing at the screen.
‘Tits!’
Stephanie looked, and had to agree with the assessment. The actress on screen, while hardly what one would describe as pretty, had the proverbial great rack. Big, round, firm orbs, which were, judging from the way they squished and quivered around the penis between them, all-natural to boot, in a way they most certainly wouldn’t have been had the film been produced in the silicone-enhanced eighties.
‘Oh gosh, they’re making out whilst watching a titfuck!’ exclaimed Alexandra.
‘Ssh!’ hissed Esme and Stephanie.
Alexandra took a big swig of vodka handed the empty glass to Esme, and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Now that’s the way to do it,’ she said, pointing at the breasts on screen. ‘Wanking a man off with a proper pair of bosoms! Just look at those bosoms! Look at the way she’s rubbing his dick with her bosoms! Oh I wish they were my bosoms! I want a cock between my bosoms, I want a cock between my bosoms so effing badly!’
Stephanie halkalı escort counted at least half a dozen uses of the word “bosoms”, which suggested that Alexandra was, consciously or unconsciously, whipping herself up into a linguistic frenzy.
‘Sorry girls,’ said Esme, slurring a little. ‘But this is all too much, and it’s been far too long. I’m going to need to have a wank.’
‘What are you like, Esme,’ giggled Alexandra. ‘You’ve already titfucked three complete strangers today!’
‘Exactly,’ groaned Esme, ‘And I didn’t cum once.’
Stephanie, rather shocked, looked away, and the sound of Esme’s bedsprings squeaking rhythmically along with Liam’s sexual groans from through the wall made it clear that her statuesque school friend had got down to business immediately. Then she noticed that Alexandra hadn’t looked away, and was staring at Esme in fascination. This in turn, piqued Stephanie’s curiosity, and when she turned to look, she was rather surprised. Instead of the expected sight of Esme, knickers round thighs, fiddling one or several fingers between her legs, the biggest-breasted of the Stonemere Park girls was rocking up and down again, letting those huge breasts wobble to increasingly giddy heights until they were boxing her on the chin. The top she was wearing was gradually losing the fight to keep her cherry nipples covered up.
‘Far out!’ gasped Alexandra. ‘That’s how you wank? Bouncing your bosoms?’
Esme nodded, the waves of pleasure engulfing her with each journey her braless bust undertook from ribcage to chin. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she panted. ‘It started when I was fucking the… the butcher’s boy. I always… go on top, and so bouncing tits and cumming just… they just go hand in hand for me… I don’t fuck boys properly any more, not after having it drilled out of me at Stonemere, but… it’s still… still the only way I can… oh shit, oh shit oh shit…’
Esme began bouncing and shaking her enormous breasts so energetically it looked like the inertia would fling her off the bed and right out the window into the street outside. Her nipples leapt free of her top, and as though that were what she had been waiting for (and perhaps it was), she finally came, her screams stifled into a hastily grabbed pillow.
‘It’s a boobgasm!’ said Alexandra, clapping her hands together. ‘Oh how wonderful! Esme does it too! Just like you and me!’
Stephanie pretended it wasn’t her Alexandra was looking at. Why couldn’t people simply believe that she orgasmed using her breasts, why did they all have to jump on the bandwagon!
Esme fell back onto the bed, her extraordinary breasts teetering vertically above her, quivering unsteadily forwards and backwards, from side to side, as though they couldn’t decide which way to fall. She had barely lasted a minute. Even Liam was still grunting away rhythmically in the next room, in time with the impressive titwank under way in the dirty movie on the hotel room cable television.
Alexandra, meanwhile, was not be outdone, and was repeating her bosomy mantra to herself as she performed a slow striptease for her own entertainment. ‘Fuck my bosoms. Cum all over them,’ she purred to an imaginary partner as she watched herself in the mirror on the wardrobe door. ‘Let me rub my bosoms all over your cock until you drench them in cum, you naughty boy…’
They heard footsteps out in the corridor.
‘Esme,’ whispered Stephanie. ‘Is that Emily back already?’
Esme rolled groggily over, her towering breasts landing so heavily on the bed that the mattress springs groaned as loudly as Liam was groaning next door. ‘I’d better go out and let her know we’re eavesdropping in here so she doesn’t interrupt what’s going on next door.’ Tugging her top up over her visibly trembling post-boobgasm breasts, she crawled off the bed and strode to the door and popped her head out into the corridor.
Then, another surprise.
‘Oh, hello Ms Nightingale,’ came Esme’s voice from the other side of the door, trying to sound as sober and non-post-masturbatory as possible.
‘Hope I didn’t wake you up,’ came Sadie’s voice.
Sadie hadn’t been in the room at all?
‘No, I just thought it was…’ Esme stopped herself lest Emily’s clubbing antics might land her in trouble, ‘The cleaner?’
‘It’s past midnight,’ said Sadie. ‘I was just out getting some water. Sorry again if I woke you up.’
Meanwhile, the tit-film music had switched back to the first porno, with the small-breasted woman having her bottom masturbated on, or whatever other act this unlikely fictional couple had moved on to. Liam had changed the channel, not switched off the television altogether. Esme shut the door and scampered back into the TV-light of the room to join her intrigued friends. They all pressed ears to the wall and listened.
‘Sorry I was gone so long,’ Sadie said.
Liam was still grunting and moaning.
‘Give olgun escort me a minute and I’ll come and help you out,’ she said, as though Liam masturbating to pornography in front of her was a perfectly normal thing to do. Which, maybe, for them, it was. ‘What are you watching?’
A pause. Esme had turned the channel back to the one Liam was watching. Either the man in the film was still ejaculating onto the woman’s bottom ten minutes later, or this was a subsequent occasion, the couple having enjoyed the first time so much they were doing it again.
‘What the hell is going on?’ said Esme.
‘I think I know,’ said Stephanie, cogs whirring in her keen mind. ‘Hear me out: Liam’s being “cured” of his breast fetish, right? And I think Sadie must be helping him with whatever therapy he’s undergoing. She’s got him masturbating over non-boob pornos.’
‘But he was wanking to that titfuck movie,’ said Esme.
‘Yes, but only when Sadie was out of the room. I think there’s still a chance we can save him.’
‘Save him from what?’ said Alexandra with a ghoulish shudder that sent her nipples stiffening under her top in chilly terror.
‘Save him from having his entire identity taken away from him!’ said Stephanie. ‘Liam’s the most boring person I know, his boob addiction is the only remotely interesting thing about him, and soon he won’t even have that! He’s being brainwashed to get hard looking at normal women like Sadie.’
‘Oh my fucking God,’ said Esme slowly. ‘You mean like…’
‘Exactly,’ said Stephanie with a grim nod.
‘… like a Frenchman,’ said Alexandra in horror.
‘Well, that wasn’t what I was going to say,’ said Stephanie, ‘but yes you might as well put it like that.’
Alexandra’s eyes widened. ‘I have an idea,’ she said, beckoning Esme and Stephanie closer. ‘After this gap year, I’m going to train as a psychological therapist. Mindfulness and all that.’
‘What’s mindfulness,’ said Esme.
‘It’s like meditation,’ said Alexandra. ‘I read about it, and it sounds so cool? Anyway, perhaps I could try to hypnotise Liam back to his old self? Fight back against whatever Sadie’s doing to him.’
‘It’s worth a shot,’ sighed Stephanie, sceptical of psychobabble but willing to keep an open mind given Alexandra’s well-meaning intentions in the circumstances. ‘I flashed my boobs at him earlier, he didn’t bat an eyelid. Barely even looked at them’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Alexandra. ‘I’ll say I need a male practice subject for hypnotherapy, but I’ll pretend it’s about something else. Once he’s under my spell I’ll make sure his load ends up where it rightfully belongs: splattered all over large, shapely bosoms.’
A tortured cry of ecstasy through the wall, and the switching off of the television followed shortly afterwards by snoring, signalled that the evening’s eavesdropped entertainment had concluded, and so Stephanie bade her friends good night and tiptoed out of Esme’s room, up the stairs to the third floor and let herself into the room she was sharing with Angie.
Angie’s bedside table light was on, and Angie was in bed, underneath a naked young man who had hit the jackpot and was writhing in and out of her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Stephanie started but managed not to make a noise. Angie waved at her casually from beneath the happily fornicating gentleman. Stephanie gestured to the door with raised eyebrows, silently enquiring if she should leave them alone.
Angie shook her head, then cleared her throat and said, ‘Carl, I hope you don’t mind if my roommate’s in the next bed?’
Carl, a strapping, tanned athletic fellow with sun-bleached hair, probably a surfer, turned over his shoulder and saw Stephanie standing there in the skin-tight chequerboard tube dress.
‘More the merrier,’ he winked, thrusting deep into Angie. Australian, by the accent, or Kiwi. He took in Stephanie’s figure a smiled.
‘Oh god Carl I just felt you get even harder inside me,’ drawled Angie, only marginally more animated than she would be in a maths lesson.
This was music to Stephanie’s ears. A breast man! And an attractive one to boot!
Carl grinned at Stephanie, then returned his attention to the task in hand: fucking Angela Kenworthy.
Stephanie admired his taut, well-formed, muscular bottom as it drove his erection back and forth into Angie. He was propped up on his strong arms and thus enjoying a direct view of Angie’s conical, swollen-areolaed E-cups as they wagged aloft.
‘I hope you’re going to cum on her boobs, Carl,’ smiled Stephanie, already so horny from the tipsy audio-voyeurism in Esme’s room and the shameless fucking in her own room that the words were out of her mouth in desperate longing before she knew it. If she was too fussy, too unadventurous or just too unlucky to have pulled tonight, she could at least experience that sorely longed-for boobwank şişli escort vicariously through her more obviously fuckable hotel room-mate. ‘Angie needs you to. For a thing.’
Angie rolled her eyes as Carl’s efforts bumped her head against the headboard with soft, steady urgency. ‘Oh yeah, the contest. Totes forgot. Do you mind finishing with a tittyfuck, Carl?’
‘Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart,’ Carl said merrily, and disengaged gingerly, clearly worried about shooting his Aussie load too soon. He began to straddle Angie’s supine body, broad back arching and straightening, a study in classical anatomy, and muscular thighs waddling as he shuffled himself into position. His cock, average in length but alarmingly fat, looked fit to burst right out of the pink condom, its tip already bulbously heavy with pre-cum and dripping with Angie-juice. He peeled it off with difficulty, the extra girth added by the sight of Stephanie’s hourglass form and bulging, freckled cleavage in the skintight chequerboard dress having made the prophylactic an even more painfully uncomfortable fit than when he had first rolled it on. He aimed the raw, twitching purple head at the underside of Angie’s cleavage, and hesitated.
‘Not done this before?’ said Angie with limited patience. ‘Not another one.’
‘Both of you turn the other way, so I can watch,’ blurted Stephanie. ‘I can talk you through it, Carl.’
Carl turned his head again with a wide charming flash of a gold tooth, making no disguise of checking out Stephanie’s amplitude. ‘Cheers Steph,’ he said, ‘That’s damned kind of you. Round we go, Ange.’
Amid a tangled flurry of damp bedsheets and exasperated mutterings from Angela, the two of them rotated so that Angela was no lying with her head at the foot of the bed and Carl straddling her stomach, awaiting guidance from Stephanie, who in the meantime had pulled up an old wooden hotel room chair and was sitting primly facing him, knees together, hands in lap, back arched and chest thrust out so far she could feel that the only thing holding the dress’s neckline up was the protuberance of her areolae, hot and bulbous and throbbing with mammary pangs of sexual anticipation.
Stephanie cleared her throat softly, then began. ‘Now, it’s only a full point if you ejaculate onto her breasts whilst engaged in the titfuck. It needs to be a titfuck all the way to completion.’
‘Rules!’ laughed Carl, erection standing proud and going nowhere in a hurry despite his mirth. ‘You British Sheilas are crazy!’
‘Half a point if you cum on them hands-free. Disqualification if you finish yourself off by hand, no matter how much cum actually ends up on her breasts.’
‘Hardly going to have a wank now, am I,’ reasoned Carl. ‘Not with bazoombas like yours, eh?’
‘I hope you mean mine,’ said Angie rather crossly from below.
‘Yeah, that’s what I meant, Ange,’ said Carl with a wink at Stephanie and a lick of his pale, salty lips as he treated himself to another ocean-blue eyeful of her yearning, hemispheroid “bazoombas”.
‘First, Carl,’ said Stephanie, now blushing fiercely at the flirtatious compliment upon her prize assets, ‘without using your hands, explore Angela’s breasts with the tip of your cock.
Carl’s plum helmet nudged the tight cleft between Angie’s mountainous boobs.
Stephanie felt goosebumps radiate from her nipples like a rash as her own cleavage underwent the sensation by proxy. Oh to have a chubby boner attempt ingress into her own bosomy intimacy!
‘Not yet, Carl,’ Stephanie hastened, snapping herself out of vicarious titwank reverie. ‘I mean let your slick, slippery helmet roam around the sides. Let it circle its way up to Angie’s lovely, puffy pink nipples.’
This was perhaps easier said than done, but Carl was rampantly aroused enough not to let his focused attempts at cock-to-eye coordination compromise the effortless erectitude of his antipodean appendage. His lithe hips gyrated and bucked ever so gently, steering the raw scarlet helmet on an erratic course around the wide circumferences of Angela’s firm, plump mammaries, glossy trails of steadily trickling pre-cum in its wake. Finally, he reached Angie’s bulbous left areola, nudging it softly this way and that. Angie’s voluptuous lips parted a little and she let out a gentle moan. Stephanie, the imagined sense of that raging boner prodding inquiringly at her own left nipple crisply vivid in her mind, moaned likewise. Her nipples felt like they were actively trying to wriggle their way free of the chequerboard tube dress’s elastic neckline. Much as those electrically charged little inverted nibs led the way before her everywhere she went in the literal sense, now she could feel them taking charge over her actions, leading the way figuratively, and she was so drunk on titgasm withdrawal that she was willing to follow wherever they instructed her to go. The words emerging from her mouth weren’t hers, they were those of her sentient, bossy teen H-cups.
‘Make certain that both nipples are well lotioned in pre-cum,’ Stephanie breathed. Her breasts were starting to wobble, slowly and heavily, from side to side, of their own volition. They had cast their heady spell over Stephanie’s lust-weakened brain, and now they were setting to work on Carl, two hypnotist’s pendulums working their mesmeric magic. ‘Get them so shiny you can see your face in them.’