Uschi

Uschi Ch. 01

bylctf©

'Tell us, Alice, what you think you could bring to this role.' Roger Addington, forty, smiled at the young job applicant sitting opposite him. He was grateful that her steely blue eyes and elfin good looks provided sufficient distraction from the temptation to let his gaze drift down her straightened blonde hair which fell loosely onto the upper swells of her ample breasts, between which a tight, deep crack of cleavage rose again towards her shapely chin. The job was hers, Roger would see to that, as he had seen to the appointment of so many similarly well-endowed women to positions in his team for which they were otherwise poorly qualified. He was, in a word, a pervert, and as such perfectly prepared to compromise his professional ethics and abuse his position of authority to ensure that he would spend every passing minute of his otherwise miserable working day surrounded by his favourite creature's on God's Earth: slim young women with large busts.

The spanner in the works this time was that one of said unscrupulously recruited members of his team, a certain 25-year-old dusky Bavarian beauty named Uschi Dorster, who, being not only jutting and sizeable of bosom but unexpectedly just as quick of wit and sharp of mind, had been encouraged by Human Resources to sit in on the interview process. Alice was the third applicant they'd seen that morning. The first two had been eminently suited to the vacant position, but had, unbeknownst to Uschi, fallen laughably short of Roger's secret physical preferences. Similarly, the two applicants they had interviewed the previous day, and the five more that had sat in the same chair boasting their account management prowess the previous Friday. All bright young women (and a couple of men: Roger was keen to create an illusion of gender equality in his recruitment process), but not until Alice had there been a single serviceable pair of breasts attached to any of them. Once, he had conducted more than thirty interviews before filling a role in his team with the jiggly, top-heavy young Irish graduate Sarah O'Reilly, whose girlish blonde curls and penchant for tight, bustline-enhancing sweaters made her the perfect candidate in Roger's eyes.

And he was more than happy to put in the extra hours making up for her sloppy paperwork in return for the eight hours of glorious sexual arousal which she unwittingly provided from Monday till Friday. And at least she had been to university. He had, after a lengthy search, given a position of alarmingly high responsibility to a French school-leaver of a mere nineteen years of age, purely on the strength of the disproportionately overdeveloped and pendulously hyper-mobile, yet defiantly well-formed mammaries which, with typically Gallic laissez-faire, she rarely if ever saw fit to support with a brassiere, despite the conspicuity beneath her loose-fitting tops of the puffy, upward-pointing tennis-ball sized areolae with which those mammary glands were so lewdly crowned. Her name was Vanessa, and her tall, willowy chain-smoker's frame only served to emphasise how absurdly huge each wobbling breast was. He sensed that the rest of his busty team disapproved of this free-spirited contempt for underwear, but he was determined to let her continue to dress as she pleased.

'For example,' Uschi chipped in, 'What difference did you make in your last job?' Roger tensed. Ordinarily this would have been easy, but she was going to ruin everything.

The bosomy blonde on the other side of the table bit her lip thoughtfully (and, to the salacious Roger, erotically), and swivelled her baby-blues to study the top-left corner of the room, as though the answer might be engraved there. Her pensive distractedness afforded Roger the long-overdue opportunity to stare directly at her swelling bust as it rose and fell warmly and heavily with each breath she took, and to experience the pleasant lustful sensation in the engorged genitals that throbbed gently in his suit trousers. With expert timing, the result of a lifetime's practice at stolen bosom-glimpses, Roger returned his gaze to Alice's eyes a split second before she returned hers to meet his. 'Um,' she began uncertainly, 'I came up with the idea for team drinks after work on Fridays?'

Uschi began to say something, but Roger interjected. 'Excellent!' he enthused loudly. 'Team bonding. It's just as important as the work itself, I always feel.' Shifting his posture to allow his semi-erection to manoeuvre its way to one side beneath the wallet in his pocket where it would escape notice (he had long taken to wearing dark suits to disguise tell-tale bulges) Roger rose to his feet. 'I think that's all we need,' he said, extending a hand in Alice's dimly smiling direction.

'Roger...' said Uschi with quiet urgency.

But Alice had already slung her handbag over her shoulder and was submitting herself to a lengthy and vigorous handshake from Roger, a handshake which sent momentous waves of motion through her generously-proportioned chest, and gave the leering breast-fiend of a manager a good sense of her breasts' significant weight and mass.

'I'll see you out, Ms Hall,' Roger said, opening the door for the petite yet bosomy blonde. 'Uschi, thank-you for your help.'

Later, back in the secluded corner of the third floor sales back-office where Roger and his team had their desks, Uschi approached her manager. 'So, Roger,' she said in her earthy Germanic tones. 'That was the seventh candidate so far.'

'Eighth, I think,' said Roger, looking reflectively into the middle distance just in time to allow Sarah's chest to hop, skip, and jump its jaunty way through his field of vision as she made her way to the watercooler.

'That many,' said Uschi. 'Wow. Anyway, I have some notes on who I think would be best.'

'Uh-huh?' said Roger, digesting the sight of Sarah's shapely Irish bosom.

Uschi consulted a notebook. 'I thought Jonathan's experience with CRM systems made him ideal, and Maureen from last week seemed to be a strong candidate also. Do you agree?'

Roger took a break from his fantasy about Sarah, and allowed the memory of Alice's firm chest to return to his leering mind. 'Actually, I'm going to give the job to Alice,' he told Uschi.

'Alice? You're kidding, right? The airhead bimbo blonde?'

'Now now Uschi,' Roger's voice took on a serious hushed tone. 'Some of your colleagues are blonde, you can't judge people by the colour of their hair.'

'Or by the size of their...' began Uschi, then stopped herself. Her lips pressed tightly together, her chin jutted.

'I appreciate your input,' smiled Roger. 'But I've made up my mind. You'll see. She will fit into the team quite well.'

Uschi scowled and appraised Roger with suspicious, narrowed eyes.

'Vanessa,' said Roger, calling across to the Frenchwoman, now twenty years of age. 'Could I see you in the meeting room over there please?' He stood and excused himself from Uschi, who glowered, hand on hip, as he headed to the meeting room, Vanessa standing and traipsing, bust swinging bralessly to and fro, behind him.

Roger closed the door. 'Please take a seat, Vanessa.' The two sat either side of the table in the small room. Vanessa studied her fingernails and sighed. Her long, light brunette hair hung limply and untidily in her pouting face. She wasn't pretty in the traditional sense, but she had a smouldering old-world Parisian glamour about her and a commanding sexual presence, her nose striking and full of character, her lips swollen and sulking, her eyes weary beyond her tender years.

'What is it?' she said.

Roger took a deep breath. 'I'm afraid there have been more comments about your... standard of dress in the office,' he said. There hadn't, of course. He was making it up, not to be divisive, but compelled by horny obsession to devise the excuse to steer any conversation to the subject of breasts and bras.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. 'Look,' she said, 'I cannot 'elp it. I 'ave not worn a...' groping for the English word she cupped her heavy breasts gently in bony hands through the baggy beige long-sleeved top.

'Bra?' said Roger with convincing innocence, expertly disguising his glee at being able to say the word out loud to such a gloriously-endowed young woman.

'Yes, bra,' said Vanessa, releasing her loosely-clad breasts to sway freely again. 'I 'ave not worn a bra for years, not since my boobs grow so big. But I do not think it is your business, or anyone else's.' She folded her arms petulantly, but by no means self-consciously, across her ballooning breasts, squishing them into irregular shapes that pushed at the thin cotton fabric of her top.

Roger gulped hard. 'I'm in an awkward position here, Vanessa. Your... appearance is somewhat distracting for your colleagues, and certainly for me.'

Vanessa leaned angrily toward her manager, unfolding her arms and squishing her wobbling chest hard against the table edge. 'What about the other big tits in the office? Do you have meeting with them, too? I cannot 'elp 'aving these big tits, you know? And neither can the other girls. I never wear the low-cut tops with the cleavage, for example. Maybe I have problem when Susan or Kathrin or Sarah they walk around like zis.' To illustrate her point, Vanessa tugged the indeed modestly high neckline of her top down as far as it would stretch, and with her thin arms squeezed her enormous breasts together, the effect being a good several inches of bare cleavage on display, whose gravitational pull seemed to invite Roger and his now fiercely rigid erection to lose themselves within its silky depths forever. She let her neckline snap back upwards and relinquished the tight compression of her billowing chest again, allowing some of the blood to from Roger's penis back to the rest of his body.

'Point taken,' Roger said. Then, cautiously: 'Do you not even own a... a bra?'

'No,' shrugged the grumpy Parisian. 'Only old ones and zey do not fit me any more. Ze last time I wore a bra it was a cup size... D, I think. But no way zat will fit me now!' She laughed mirthlessly. 'I am now maybe H, double-H, I, J, K... who know?' She let that sink in. 'And anyway,' she added, 'I don't think I need one. My breasts look good without a bra, an' I am more comfortable like zis. So ze other women in the office, if zey have problem with me, zey can fuck off.'

Roger raised his hands and smiled grimly. 'Okay, okay. I'm sorry to have brought it up.'

'Can I go?' said Vanessa with deep sarcasm. 'And get on with my work?'

Roger gestured to the door. Vanessa stood and sauntered haughtily out of the room back to her desk and continued browsing the internet.

When his erection had subsided enough not to be a conspicuous public obscenity, Roger left the meeting room and returned to his desk. Making sure no-one was looking over his shoulder, he went to his personal folder on the company computer network and opened a spreadsheet innocuously named "contract admin". In it he had listed the women who reported to him, and alongside each name the bra size which he supposed they wore, and in a separate column various notes and observations about each woman's breasts, thoughts on bounciness, nipple size and colour, that sort of thing. He had passed the point of being proud or ashamed of this appalling ethical violation: it was simply something he needed to know. Next to Vanessa's name he typed "H-CUP???" Then he added Alice Hall's name to the end of the list, saved and closed the spreadsheet, and typed an e-mail to Human Resources advising that he had finally found a suitable candidate for the new account manager role and that she could start on Monday.

As soon as Roger got home from work he undressed, lay naked on his bed as he did every weekday evening and, by reflecting on the heady femininity in which he had spent the day so hornily immersed, allowed his penis to swell rapidly to full, twitching rigidity. His testicles, tight, bulging, and overwrought, quivered as they always did and with a violent lurch his untouched erection pumped forth the day's pungent build-up of thick opaque semen in a quick series of powerful spams, the viscous fluid flying variously onto his arms, chest, and stomach. Sometimes, after a particularly vivid day of tumultuous breast-based entertainment provided to him by his oblivious team, the eruptions would pelt him stickily in his own face, and at the height of summer when the bosomy abundance he had assembled was at its most scantily clad, his daily emission after work would sail, one explosion after the next, right over his face and hit the headboard of the bed, or even splatter the wall above it. It was how he had masturbated for many years, and if manual intervention felt necessary, as it did tonight, the rubbing of his subsiding erection with trembling fingers always felt like a grubby anticlimax. He never watched pornography, never saw prostitutes, never had erotic dreams, certainly never attempted to embark upon romantic relationships. He had found a perfect, though delicately balanced, sexual equilibrium of spending eight hours a day surveying a constant parade of fully clothed proudly bouncing young breasts, and ending the day by allowing his metabolism to respond as only it knew how: by ejaculating freely and powerfully, like a fire hydrant. As it was, his body's natural release felt incomplete, the conversation with Vanessa about her bounteous French breasts and flagrant bralessness having left him more unfulfilled than usual, and he grimly rubbed his wilting penis to a few final pathetic spurts onto his belly. Then he showered, dressed, ate his dinner, watched some television, undressed again, and went to bed early to allow sleep to replenish his bodily reserves in preparation for another day of slow-burn titillation.

The next day at the office began much like any other. Susan Kawolski, the tall, curvaceous Canadian who despite her red hair, adorably cute freckled face and enormous breasts suffered from inexplicably low sexual self-esteem, was wearing a new floral wraparound dress and a bra that was boosting her cleavage to mind-boggling effect. Clearly having one of her good days. Roger wondered about flattering her by remarking on how good she looked, or at least letting her take notice of his admiring gaze, but he dared not risk exposing himself for the foul pervert that, deep down, he knew he was. So instead, Susan's luscious buxomness went unremarked-upon by Roger as it did every day.

Vanessa was next in, and in peeling off her baggy woollen jumper came closer than ever to accidentally peeling off her T-shirt with it. Roger caught sight of her flat, bare stomach, but thankfully the cotton of the grey T-shirt got trapped under her ballooning breasts and her bust remained obscured, though leaving very little to the imagination regarding its shape and mass. She flung her jumper over the back of her chair, untucked the hem T-shirt from under her big breasts where it had become trapped under their bulbous form and weight, straightened herself out and sat down to switch on her PC. Roger wondered how his body would react if one day the inevitable happened and she accidentally stripped topless, actually baring her magnificent chest to him in all its youthful, overdeveloped glory. Were those areolae, so unignorable in their bulbous fleshiness, really as irresistibly suckable as he hoped and feared? Would he just spontaneously ejaculate in his trousers there and then, ruining the day's long buildup to the gratifying orgasm he had become accustomed to enjoying every evening? The tease was all he wanted, all he needed, anything more would be unbearable.

Sarah O'Reilly was next to arrive, her nice chest tightly shrouded in a thin dark grey sweater, the sleeves rolled up to reveal pale, attractively chubby forearms. It was a cold day and her small nipples were poking visibly through both bra and sweater. Roger stole a couple of glances and reflected with admiration on how high-riding and shapely Sarah's breasts were, and upon the endearing asymmetry with which her stiff nipples squinted upward and outward. He had her down as a 38D, but his judgement in this matters was poor. More than anything he hoped to make sense of the arcane principles that underlay bra sizing, and to learn his team's sizes in particular, but even after two years of building and managing this team, his attempts to find out remained futile.

Except in Uschi's case. Some weeks previously, after the women had all gone home, he had rummaged through their desk cabinets for clues, and to his fervent excitement had found a sweat-stained sports bra at the back of Uschi's bottom drawer. The data gleaned from the bra's faded label took pride of place in his otherwise speculatively-populated breast spreadsheet. When Uschi was the next to walk into the office, her really rather perfect bosom prodding impudently from an open raincoat at a black silk blouse, the top few buttons of which were undone to expose a carefree and natural-effect cleavage, those numbers and letters cycled round and round Roger Addington's feverishly bosom-obsessed mind on permanent loop. He wanted to sing them from the rooftops, to write her bra size on the office wall in a long, delicious ejaculation of pent-up sperm.

Selina Carpenter followed close behind. All bets were off where this petite redhead's bra size was concerned, as she had recently announced that she was in the early stages of pregnancy, and indeed as a consequence her breasts, already a decently-sized firm and pert handful apiece to begin with, had visibly doubled in size in the past week alone. Her burgeoning, milky bosom had been the subject of much bawdy talk and teasing from the other girls, but to Roger's frustration the actual details of what bra she had found herself having to upgrade to hadn't arisen as part of the ribaldry. What was clear, however, was that Selina's chest had lost nothing of its upswept shape and despite growing so rapidly had, if anything, increased in density. And there was no hiding her nipples, which, previously blending in with the attractive, perky curvature of her bosom, now announced their milk-giving presence in no uncertain terms. She had been forced to swap taut, gaping blouses for stretchy fabric tops, and her choice today of a plain white V-neck stretch-top was audacious indeed. As her coat came off and her engorged pregnant torpedo-breasts thrust forth from her svelte torso, Roger's cock surged dangerously close to instant orgasm when confronted with the clearly visibly fact that Selina's dark, swollen nipples had escaped the white cups of her new bra in their entirety, and were clearly visible not only from their protuberant hat-peg shape prodding through the fabric, but from the dark pigmentation that stood out in such vivid contrast to the colour of the top and the pallor of her skin beneath it. The idea had clearly been to disguise the darkness and pronounced pointiness of those magnificent new nipples with a padded white bra, but that plan had gone spectacularly awry, as the upper edge of each bra cup was clearly not only failing to contain the nipples, but there was a good two inches of breast between the cups and each richly enlarged pinnacle. Those nipples hadn't just popped out, they were miles from home. Roger felt a pang of aching pleasure in his testicles, and a tingling sensation in his penis. He was heading too fast for orgasm, and looked quickly away, attempting to focus on the work on his computer. He heard Uschi laugh and draw Selina's attention to the extent of her wardrobe malfunction, Selina gasping at the realisation and shrieking with embarrassed laughter, then excusing herself amid much mirth and heading to the ladies' restroom to address the issue of her errant nipples.

When Kathrin walked in amidst all this hysterical commotion, she too fell about with laughter as Uschi, Susan, and Sarah gabbled their way through the description of Selina's latest pregnancy repercussion. Kathrin Fischer was another German - the office they worked in was the UK address of a Frankfurt-based enterprise, and as European language skills were needed in every team, Roger had the occasional recruiting trip to the continent, which was where he had (eventually) found Uschi, Vanessa, and also Kathrin. Another slender young woman, and at thirty years of age the oldest in the team after Roger, Kathrin's breasts had the habit, depending on what she was wearing, of appearing very much grapefruit-like in size and shape, or of seeming to vanish entirely. While Roger had employed her based on the tight, daringly low-cut dress and evidently strapless bra she had worn to the interview, today she was draped in some kind of shapeless poncho affair which rendered her apparently flat-chested. Roger had since then nursed suspicion that perhaps he had been deceived, and that Kathrin had somehow created a misleading illusion of bustiness by way of padding or strategic choices of colour and pattern in her attire. She could be anything from a B-cup to an E, though her band size was most certainly in the low thirties.



Selina returned from the restroom, with what appeared to be tissue paper lining her breasts beneath the white top. Her nipples were no longer in evidence, anyhow. She blushed as the gentle ribbing from her colleagues persisted a little, but eventually the huddle of prominent-busted young women settled down to do some work.

Later that morning, Roger, genuinely engrossed in actual work, snapped to attention by something Uschi said.

'Guys,' she addressed the group, 'I can't find the contract for Dachshund GmbH.'

'It's not in the contracts directory?' said Susan.

'No,' murmured Uschi, staring at the screen.

Roger chipped in. 'Do you have the customer ID?'

Uschi nodded. '75D55AX005,' she said mechanically. She knew the code by heart.

'And it was you that processed the contract?'

'Yes. I guess I must have saved it in the wrong folder,' she concluded with a sigh.

'I'd simply do a search of all document contents across the whole company network,' suggested Roger. 'Search for your own name and the first three characters of the customer code, and it will turn up that way.'

'Good idea,' said Uschi, and tapped away.

Silence descended upon the office space once more. Roger glanced up at Uschi for some indication that she'd found the contract. As he watched, Uschi, studying her screen, suddenly stopped in her tracks. Her lips parted in shock at whatever she was reading on screen, and very slowly she turned her head to meet Roger's inquisitive look.

Uh-oh. What now.

After locking eyes with the increasingly disquietened Roger for some very tense moments, Uschi clicked her mouse, and in an almost trancelike state walked across to the printer, took the sheet of paper that emerged from it, and walked back across to Roger's desk.

'Roger,' said Uschi in a firm, steady voice. 'May we talk in private?'

'Um, sure.'

Uschi shut the door behind them as Roger sat down in the small meeting room. She didn't sit but instead, after some deliberation and giving Roger a strange appraising look, laid the printout in front of him, face down.

'Turn it over,' she said, folding her arms under her bold, shapely chest.

Roger turned it over and read. His blood ran cold. It was his staff bra size list, complete with all his notes and observations. It was a full written confession of his secret life as a full-on breast-pervert.

'You've gone very pale, Roger,' said Uschi. 'What's the matter?'

As a last ditch effort, Roger played the idiot. 'Why are you showing me this,' he half-laughed. 'What is this? Some kind of office practical joke?'

'Please, Roger. You were the last person to save the file. You wrote this.' Uschi prodded the sheet of paper with a lacquered fingernail. 'About us. About our breasts.'

'Now, I don't know what you're getting at, but...'

'You know how I found this? I searched the network for the terms "Uschi" and "75D". The contract turns up, in the wrong folder, as expected, but the search also returns this file called "contract admin". Roger, are you really so stupid to put this on the corporate network?'

'I can explain...'

'And now I'm thinking,' Uschi continued, now in full Hercule Poirot monologue mode. 'Why would you put my bra size down as 75D? Apart from the fact that it's a very out of date bra size, it's a German size, in centimetres. And you've guessed, badly, the rest of the team's bra sizes using UK measurements, in inches. And then I remembered, I keep an old sports bra in my desk in case I want to go to the gym at lunch and I forget mine. I'm a bigger size now and it doesn't fit me very well any more, but the size written on the label of that sports bra? 75D.'

Roger just stared at Uschi in helpless silence.

'You've been going through my things, you fucking pervert!' Uschi laughed triumphantly. She was enjoying this. 'Roger? You are well and truly fucked.'

Uschi Ch. 02

bylctf©

'So,' grinned Uschi darkly, finally pulling up the chair opposite Roger and depositing her shapely rear smugly upon it. 'We find ourselves in an interesting situation, don't we.'

'What do you want?' asked Roger soberly.

'Firstly, I don't want you doing this behind my back,' said Uschi.

'I'm sorry,' said Roger, horrified by this whole turn of events. 'I never intended for anyone to find out.'

'It all makes sense now,' thought Uschi aloud. 'You've hired us all because we have big boobs. The reason that blonde bimbo is starting on Monday is because of her tits. Do you go and masturbate in the toilets every ten minutes?'

'No,' protested Roger, truthfully. 'I really don't!'

'Then when you get home?'

'This... This is private...'

'So is my sports bra!' countered Uschi, with a strange smile and a gleam in her eye. She wasn't angry, she was enjoying the thrill of this power she now held over her boss. 'And so are my nipples. In your notes you speculate that they are small and dark.' She threw back her long wavy locks in a contemptuous guffaw. 'Where do you get that idea? Because I have dark hair and dark eyes?'

'I... I don't know,' mumbled Roger.

Uschi regarded her scolded boss for a moment. 'You know, in a way I want to get my tits out right now and show you my nipples just to show you how wrong you are. You'd like that, wouldn't you?'

Roger shook his head. 'I don't want you to do anything of the sort.'

'You're wrong about nipples, wrong about bra sizes,' said Uschi, counting on her fingers. 'How can you be so obsessed with boobs but know so little about them?'

'I'm... I'm an idiot,' said Roger, sheepish and pathetic.

'In a twisted way it's kind of sweet,' reasoned Uschi, but Roger knew better than to think he had endeared himself to her. She was plotting. 'You promise you never masturbate at work?'

'I promise,' Roger nodded quickly.

'So you spend all day getting turned on more and more by all these pairs of big boobs... My god you must come so hard when you get home each night.'

Roger said nothing, but felt his face grow a hot shade of pink.

Uschi clapped her hands in cruel delight. 'You let it build up all day, and then let it out. Oh Roger that must feel so good.'

Again, Roger said nothing. He could nothing now except wait to see where Uschi was going with all of this.

'You realise, Roger, that I am going to have to teach you a lesson?'

'I've learnt my lesson, I assure you,' stammered the terrified forty-year-old. She was going to tell Human Resources, head office in Frankfurt, he was ruined, his career over.

'But,' she continued, recognising his train of thought, 'I'm not going to tell anyone about this. Not yet.'

Roger breathed a slight sigh of relief. 'What's the catch?'

'First, Roger, we have to do something about this list.'

'I'll delete it, I promise!'

'No no, you misunderstand,' laughed Uschi. 'We need to find the right answers. You see, now I too am curious about my big-bosom colleagues. What size bra do they wear? What do those bouncy titties look like bare naked? We are going to find out together.' She leaned back in her chair. 'And when we have all the answers, then I will decide what to do with you.'

For the first time in two years, Roger Addington didn't ejaculate after work. He didn't eat dinner, didn't watch television, just sat with a glass of water and stared at the wall. He felt sick to his stomach. His testicles, confused and expecting their nightly purge, ached. After all, he'd nearly seen Vanessa strip topless by mistake, and had been treated to an explicit view of Selina's pregnant hypernipples through her stretchy white top, so tonight should have been a satisfying orgasm indeed, but the prospect in no way appealed. What was he going to do? He had no choice but to submit to whatever blackmail demands young Uschi saw fit to impose. The one silver lining was that she seemed keen to toy with him, to prolong the torture. It would buy him some time during which to think his way out of this nightmarish state of affairs. And if nothing else it sounded like he would finally get to the bottom of the bra size mystery that had vexed him for so long. Though of course he would rather it were not under the current circumstances. He felt as though he would never cum again. His worries occupied him until late into Friday night and the weekend.

Monday morning was Alice Hall's first day. Ordinarily, spending a morning in seclusion with such a voluptuously sexual female would have been bliss for Roger, but his worries about Uschi remained at the forefront of his mind. She had given a friendly hello that morning and had, presumably deliberately, made a big show of letting her firm chest bounce energetically up and down in a low-cut red top as she had shrugged off her coat in front of him. Now she knew his weakness she was going to play on it, in the satisfying knowledge that Roger would now never feel comfortable acting on such flagrant titillation. Similarly, the quad-boob effect caused by Alice's obviously ill-fitting bra under her tight turquoise top would ordinarily have been eminent masturbatory material for breast-fetishist Roger, but under the conditions a morning spent looking at those poorly-contained breasts while training their owner on IT systems was hell.

Around noon there was a knock on the training room door. It was Uschi, who went across and re-introduced herself to the busty blonde she herself had so skeptically interviewed.

'Welcome,' she said with a big smile. 'I hope Roger isn't boring you too much!'

'No, no, it's fine,' Alice spread her red lips into an effortlessly dazzling smile despite her first-day nerves.

'Roger, have you told her about the treat the company gives to employees on their first day?' Uschi turned pleasantly to the manager.

'Umm, not yet...' Roger had no idea what she was talking about but sensed a scheme.

'Oh Alice, you are in for a treat. The company will let you choose a new item of clothing for work which you can claim back on expenses, up to a hundred pounds, isn't that right, Roger?'

'Yes, Uschi, that is correct,' said Roger slowly, with a forced grin and a nod.

'Ooh,' enthused Alice, 'That certainly is a treat!'

'Can you think of something you really need?' Uschi subtly glanced at Alice's chest, so uncomfortably distorted by the poorly fitting brassiere beneath her tight top. 'And please don't take this the wrong way, but I have a suggestion. You, Alice, need a new bra.'

'Oh, um, well,' Alice reddened and glanced awkwardly at Roger, who cleared his throat and looked away.

'Hey, it's OK,' said Uschi, 'We're all girls here. Oh, you're worried about Roger? We consider him one of the girls, we talk about boobs and bras in front of him all the time, don't we Roger?'

Roger shrugged and smiled. Alice was taken aback by all of this, but eager to fit in with her new team.

'Roger,' said Uschi, 'Don't you think Alice could do with a new bra? Stand up, Alice, let us see.'

Perturbed, Alice stood.

'Back straight, chest out,' ordered Uschi in her hearty Bavarian accent.

The blonde new starter did as she was told, feeling the eyes of her new manager and coworker on her badly-squashed bosom.

Uschi stood next to her and pointed to the chubby overflow of breast flesh that surged prominently from the edge of a bra cup. 'Oh darling, this will never do,' she said. 'Look at Alice's boobs, Roger. See how big they are compared to her bra.'

'Yes, terrible,' nodded Roger compliantly.

'What's your bra size, Alice?' asked Uschi with a subtle wink in Roger's direction.

Alice looked befuddled, but, obviously keen to make a good impression, replied that she was wearing a size 36D. Roger was bowled over by how easily one busty girl could elicit so personal a piece of information from another and felt himself becoming turned on, though not in the way he was accustomed to. There was a new thrill in sharing his guilty secret with one of the objects of his breast fetish. He had an accomplice now, someone on the inside, a double agent operating in plain sight among the large-bosomed young women of the world. He still did not know the terms on which this unusual partnership was based, but he reasoned that he may as well enjoy it while it lasted.

'I can see just from looking at you that you're wearing completely the wrong size. Let's take Roger's corporate credit card and go into town now to get you properly measured.' Uschi held out her hand by way of requesting the card.

'It requires my signature,' said Roger with an apologetic grimace.

Uschi planted her hands on her womanly hips. 'Well then you had better come bra shopping with us, hadn't you, Roger?'

The lingerie section of the department store was, thankfully, largely deserted as Uschi led the mildly embarrassed Alice and the more embarrassed Roger past aisles and aisles of bras and knickers in all colours and sizes.

While Alice perused some lacy numbers that clearly appealed to her, Uschi took Roger to one side. 'I'm going to go in with Alice while she gets fitted,' she whispered. 'I'm as excited about this as you are! I wonder what her boobies look like naked? I'm guessing they're fat and round, with big flat pink nipples. What do you think?'

Roger's throat went dry. 'I agree, though I'm picturing small, dark nipples.'

Uschi took her smartphone from her handbag. 'I'm going to put this in the corner of the fitting room and film her secretly as she undresses and has her breasts measured. You can watch it and learn a lot about how bra sizing really works.'

'Uschi, are you sure you should be... You know...'

'Oh, too unethical for you?' Uschi drew herself up and eyed Roger. 'I don't think you're in any position to judge what I should and shouldn't be doing.'

Roger had to agree with her. He had to agree with everything she did... Or what? At the very worst she would inform his superiors in Frankfurt head office of his filthy misdemeanours and he would be fired on the spot for misconduct. He may never work again. The only thing that seemed to be keeping him afloat was the obvious enjoyment Uschi was taking in all of this. Until when was the olive-skinned German tease going to prolong this agonising punishment?

They wandered over to join Alice as she browsed. The blonde held a bra up to her turquoise-clad bust. 'What do you think of this one?'

The bra was, to all intents and purposes, entirely see-through. Roger's penis stirred at the thought of Alice's ample bosom being neatly, and visibly, contained within its sheer elasticated cups. He hadn't ejaculated four over three days, the weekend's fretting having robbed him of the inclination to allow himself his usual nightly relief, and all of a sudden he was really beginning to feel the bloated pressure in his tight, swollen scrotum.

'It's completely transparent!' remarked Uschi. 'Everyone will see your nipples! Unless you have tiny pale nipples, of course?'

'They're small, my nipples,' said Alice. 'Not that you'd think so, what with my bosoms being the size they are. But they're quite a dark shade of pink, and usually very hard.'

'So in a tight white top we'd see everything,' surmised Uschi. 'I am wearing a see-through bra at the moment, but my nipples are almost the same tone as my skin, and though they are large and quite puffy, they swell very gently, which under a couple of layers of clothing isn't all that noticeable. And of course this blouse is very dark. But in your case I am not so sure. And Roger can only sign this purchase off as a business expense if it forms part of a respectable business wardrobe, correct Roger?'

'Yes,' said Roger. 'But I think we should at least let her try it on to be certain.'

They went in search of a consultant to get Alice professionally measured. Having eventually found one by the knickers, the prim middle-aged store assistant led them to a curtained fitting room.

'This gentleman needs to approve the purchase,' smiled Uschi to the bra-fitter. 'Can he come in to watch?' It was a long shot but worth a try.

'If that's alright with the young lady, of course,' interjected Roger.

'I don't mind,' chirped Alice brightly. Anything to please on her first day in the new job.

The woman frowned. 'I'm sorry, but it's against the store policy. Only women allowed.' She swished back the curtain and led Alice into the spacious fitting area.

Uschi sidled closely up to Roger. 'Roger, I have an idea: do you have Skype? What's your ID? I'll put my phone in the breast pocket of my blouse and film the whole thing and you can watch live.'

Roger's erection began to throb as they quickly exchanged Skype details and Uschi initiated the video call. The sexy German disappeared into the fitting room to join the others, and Roger sought out a secluded chair among the frilly lingerie displays, put his wireless earpiece in, and settled down to watch the show.

The shaky picture stabilised as Uschi's animated bosom, against which her camera-phone was so tantalizingly resting, wobbled to a halt. Roger now had a clear view of Alice as she placed her handbag on a stool. The bra-fitter asked Alice to take off her top, which Alice did readily, though with some difficulty, as her ample bust proved such a jutting obstacle. Her soft breasts, bulging like muffins from unserviceably small pink silk bra cups, shook wildly as she wrestled the top over her head and tugged her long straight blonde hair through it. He heard the bra-fitter and Uschi comment on how poorly fitting the current brassiere was, and both urged her to take the thing off straight away. Roger's heart pounded as, after a brief fumble with the presumably numerous hooks holding the back strap together, Alice snapped the garment open and the cups fell limply away. Her bare breasts were pale, delightfully wobbly globes, chubby and healthy and tight-set to form a deep natural cleavage. Bobbing on their undulating upper swells were, as Alice had described, bullet-hard, cherry-red nipples. Roger averted his eyes, terrified of the three-day backlog of sperm in his testicles which he could feel was seconds away from bursting through the floodgates and filling his underpants with its sticky liquid plentitude and the air around him with its pungent bleachy aroma. When he dared to look at the screen again, the lingerie consultant was, mercifully, obscuring Alice's unclothed torso from view, busying herself with a measuring tape. Undercover camerawoman Uschi was shifting around, clearly attempting to give herself and thus Roger a clearer view, but the space was confined, and Roger, hunched awkwardly over his smartphone was glad of the imposed break from voyeurism, for the sake of his fully loaded erection. The measuring finished, Roger heard the store assistant pronounce grandly that Alice's actual bra size was no less than 32F, and she stood aside, once more allowing Roger to feast his depraved bosom-obsessed eyes on the quivering round F-cups in question. The consultant then left the frame, and Roger, from his furtive vantage point deep within the lace jungle of the lingerie department, looked up from the phone screen to see her emerge from the fitting room and march up and down plucking various styles of bra in Alice's newly-determined proportions from the racks. Returning his beady eyes to the screen, he struggled with the burgeoning build-up in his groin as Uschi took a few steps closer to Alice until his smartphone's screen was filled from side to side with a glorious close-up of his new recruit's luscious naked breasts. How he wished there were a way to record this glorious moment for posterity so that he could drool over it in the grubby privacy of his own home, semen pumping from his twitching priapism in eternal torrents. The high-definition screen brought every detail of Alice's breasts to life in delicious vivid detail, every goosebump of her small areolae, every delicate blue vein tracing its way around the bulbous expanses of breast in mild contrast to the creamy tone of her bare skin. Then he heard Uschi asking if she could touch them, and, following nervous reluctant acquiescence from the young blonde, Roger squirmed with perverted delight as Uschi's olive-skinned left hand appeared in the close-up, applying a delicate grip on Alice's left udder, fingers sinking into what they could of the soft, ample expanse of flesh, and giving the whole thing a playful wobbling jolt, the reverberation carrying over into the right breast until the entirety of Alice's bust was a ponderous sea of creamy turmoil, her nipples a flickering scarlet blur. Uschi's hand relinquished its jostling clutch and the camera's point of view retreated with a hasty bounce, just in time for the shop assistant to return with her silky, lacy haul. Alice was now visible again from her head to thighs, and Roger watched with dirty glee as the consultant handed her the first bra to try on, namely the see-through number she had had her eye on and had presumably requested specifically. Once strapped in to the revealing garment, Alice turned to look at herself in the mirror. The profile thus achieved was shapely and flattering, emphasizing everything that was inherently appealing and naturally beautiful about Alice's warm, inviting bosom. Her nipples, as expected, stood out vibrantly through the sheer mesh cups, and while Roger would have been more than happy to have her parade around the office in a skimpy white top giving pregnant Selina a run for her poky-nippled money, the ladies assembled in the fitting room concluded swiftly that this particular bra was in Alice's case too risque for every day business use. So off it came, and Roger was treated to a spectacular side-on view of Alice's bare bosom for the first time. Having only seen them full-frontal (and what a sight that had been), he was taken aback by the actual extent to which they stood proud without sagging. Their sheer mass seemed to push them clear of her torso, and though an inch or so of the underside of each breast pressed heavily into her torso, the rest of it jutting straight forwards, curving up to each quivering bullet nipple and then sloping gracefully up to just beneath her collarbone. Alice breasts were so soft and wobbly, yet also dense enough to practically stick straight out in happy defiance of Newton's laws. There was so much to take in, and Roger knew that he would now never be able to look at the young woman without picturing her naked. While turned on beyond belief at this current moment, Roger realised that the mystery and speculation as to the naked nature of his team's proud busts was part of what kept his libido in such a perfect state of equilibrium. In affording him this instant lingering insight into the frank reality of Alice's bosom in its unfettered, unobscured state, Uschi was actually robbing him of everything that kept his feverish sexual imagination turning over with such comforting predictability each day. He knew he was going to ejaculate with great ferocity the first chance he got, but would he ever ejaculate at the thought of Alice's breasts again, now that the vision jof their naked majesty was forever imprinted on his mind? Was this what Uschi was up to? Was she going to demystify the entire department's busty treasures, and spoil his fun once and for all? His emotions thus confused, he looked on, helplessly transfixed, as Alice's globular mammaries found their abundant way into the cups of a beige, padded strapless bra. Roger was surprised that they made them in all the way up to her size, and indeed some concern was voiced that the bra, well-engineered though it may claim to be, would be no match for Alice's bosom. And so, at Uschi's behest, Alice found herself simulating all sorts of daily activities which would be certain to eventually dislodge those heaving creamy orbs from the sturdy cups. His eyes glued to the small screen of his phone, Roger observed, spellbound, as Alice walked on the spot, stretched her arm to reach an imaginary shelf, and shimmied her shoulders to increasing extremes. And it was in a contrived scenario in which Alice, for the sake of argument to imagine having stubbed her toe, hopping energetically on one foot to catch an imaginary bus, that the inevitable happened and Alice's voluminous melon breasts wobbled and careened their way one after the other completely out of the bra, the wildly jiggly centrifugal force nearly knocking the poor top-heavy blonde clean off her feet. At this, Roger felt his furiously erect penis start to emit a thin and steady stream of pre-ejaculatory fluid through his Y-fronts and along his thigh beneath his suit trousers. While mortified to be practically wetting himself in public, Roger was at least thankful for the pressure this involuntary release was letting off within his aching loin. On screen, the bra-buying session was entering its third act with Alice wiggling her bounteous chest into the cups of a white lacy balconette number and this one, for Goldilocks Alice, was just right. Neither hopping, skipping, bouncing nor shimmying could extract Alice's domed appendages from the size F cups, and an agreement was reached between the three women that this particular brassiere not only served best to contain and control the young blonde's abundance, but lent her upper body the most flattering and attractive hourglass form. Alice decided to take it, indeed to keep it on. The bra-fitting lady snipped off the price tag, Alice stretched her turquoise top tautly back over her snugly-encased bust, and Roger, realising that the group of women was about to emerge from behind the curtain, disconnected the Skype call, delicately adjusted the angle of the overwrought erection in his pants, and rose to join the party at the lingerie department checkout desk.

'Roger, sorry that took so long,' beamed Uschi. 'You must have been so bored!'

'I managed to occupy myself,' replied Roger.

Uschi gestured to the uninterrupted line of Alice's newly rearranged bosom. 'So, what do you think of Alice's boobs now, Roger? Money well spent?' Alice posed theatrically, thrusting forth her bust with a mixture of pride and slight embarrassment.

'The bra certainly makes a difference,' said Roger, enjoying the rare opportunity to direct his attention to a busty woman's chest with such candour. 'I couldn't possibly comment on the breasts themselves though, of course.' He cleared his throat nervously.

'Who's paying for this,' asked the prim lingerie consultant with a poorly-concealed air of bemused distaste at the curious scene that was unfolding here at the till.

'That would be me,' said Roger, and took from his wallet not the corporate credit card but his own: there was no way he would want to have to explain this particular purchase to head office. The price ran to an exorbitant eighty pounds. Roger was by no means a wealthy man - his career had stalled on account of his team's average performance, which in turn was principally the result of his recruiting staff on the basis of their prominent bosoms rather than their ability to do their jobs, and as such he had been passed over in various promotion rounds. So eighty pounds was a lot of money for him, and what was more he suspected that simple extortion was the least of his worries as the victim of Uschi's sexual blackmail efforts.

Back in the office, Roger assigned Alice to a couple of hours shadowing Susan. He then turned to see Uschi standing in the meeting room doorway, beckoning him thither with a wiggling finger.

'Don't do that,' said Roger, having joined her in the room and hastily closed the door behind them. 'They'll think we're... up to something.'

Uschi swung her legs, shapely in dark brown leggings, onto the table. 'Oh but we are up to something, Roger,' she said with a throaty chuckle. 'We're getting all the girls' bra sizes!' She took in his pale, sweaty demeanour and pouted with fake sympathy. 'Aren't you pleased? You're getting what you always wanted. First one for your spreadsheet, and what a catch! 32F! Impressive, no? And now you even know what those big bouncy jugs look like naked! It's your lucky day!'

'Keep your voice down,' snarled Roger. 'What you did today was worse than anything I'd ever done! I never spied on any of you naked! I respected your privacy!'

'You rummaged through my desk and read my sports bra label!'

'The desk is company property, you shouldn't be keeping your belongings in there in the first place. I'm your manager, I can read all your emails if I want!'

'You'll like the ones I send to my boyfriend,' purred Uschi. 'I talk about my tits all the time.'

'Stop it!' fumed Roger.

'However bad it may have been for me to film Alice getting her tits out, all you had to do was end that Skype call. But you didn't. You stayed on till the end.'

She had him there. Roger simply stared back at his tormentor, enraged.

Uschi smiled. 'You watched, and you enjoyed it.'

'I most certainly did not, I felt terrible for the poor girl.'

'So you stayed entirely unaroused.'

'Yes, quite so.'

'You didn't cum in your pants? No precum? Not even a boner when I made her jiggle those huge creamy titties out of that strapless bra?'

'Nothing of the sort.' Roger's heart pounded, and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his forehead.

'So,' Uschi swung her legs back down from the table and rose slowly from the chair to her high-heeled feet, her bust swaying casually beneath her dark blouse. 'If I were to examine your cock now, I would find it dry, flaccid, and shrivelled?' She locked the meeting room door, then took a step towards him where he stood.

'Now look here...' Roger wished that these circumstances would cause the erection with which he was still so cumbersomely saddled to wilt a little, but if anything he felt himself throb even harder as the cruel, sexy young German swung her hips saunteringly in his direction.

Uschi looked deep into his panicked eyes. 'I'm willing to bet that you've been rock hard since you first saw Alice's bare titties. And if you're not still dealing with a perverted boner it's because you fucking jizzed your pants. I'm going to pull down your pants now, and if I find either an erection, or a gallon of fresh jizz, then I won't trust a word you say about your good intentions.'

And with that, she dropped to one knee, yanked open Roger's belt and, before the breast-obsessed manager knew what was going on his pants were halfway down his thighs and out twanged his raging purple erection, slapping the startled Uschi stickly and noisily on the chin, lips and nose on its way up to its full priapic height. Uschi stumbled backwards and landed with a soft thud on her bottom. She looked up at her obscenely aroused manager, his thick, rigid erection, a vivid deep maroon, sprouting from beneath the hem of his shirt, a sticky, translucent curtain of pre-ejaculate draping generously from its twitching helmet to the gusset of the threadbare Y-fronts that stretched between his knees.

'Happy now?' he snapped.

For a moment, Uschi was speechless.

'Oh, I suppose you were imagining some tiny cock, were you?'

Uschi surveyed the column of engorged gristle that throbbed rudely before her. She never let on to Roger but it was longer and thicker than her boyfriend's. Not by much, but enough to stop her in her tracks. Focusing her mind on her anger at Roger once more, she wiped the pre-ejaculatory fluid from her lower face with the back of her hand and gave a hollow laugh. 'Ha! Look at all that cum. You jizzed your pants, just like I said.'

'Look at this boner!' Roger protested. 'Look how huge my balls are! All this stuff is just pre-cum. If I'd jizzed my pants then trust me there would be a lot more mess than this.'

'Mein Gott,' Uschi said in disgust, clambering to her feet and slumping back onto the chair, her eyes darting back and forth between Roger's erection and his livid face. 'You spend every day like this?'

'What of it!' fumed Roger.

'You stare at our tits, your cock hard in your pants, then you go home and, what? You jerk off?'

'What would you rather I did? Shoot my load here at work?'

'Would it stop you perving the girls?'

Roger shrugged. 'I suppose so. Temporarily anyway.'

'Do it then,' said Uschi angrily.

'Wh-what... now?'

'Yes! Here, now, in this room, in front of me so I can be sure you've done it.'

'I will most certainly not!' retorted Roger, his face as reddened and furious as his erect penis.

Uschi placed her palms on the table, looked Roger on the eye, and spoke calmly and slowly. 'Roger. You know what? I like you. I like working for you, and I like my colleagues. I don't want any of this to end, except for one thing: we are going to end this terrible voyeuristic obsession you have with our tits. They're just tits Roger, it's absurd. I am going to help you find all the bra sizes you want, help you to resolve as many of these fantasies as we can, you can spunk yourself dry, and then, hopefully, you will realise how ridiculous this is and we can all get on with our lives. Do we have an understanding?'

Roger said nothing.

'I said: do we have an understanding?'

Roger rolled his eyes and quietly said yes.

'Now, for fuck's sake, cum.'

'I can't just cum on command,' protested Roger.

'Just think about Alice's tits! Sarah's tits!'

'It doesn't work like that! What do you think I do all day? I think about tits constantly, but I still manage to not spunk my pants. I'm not a teenager.'

'Oh whatever,' Uschi slapped the table in exasperation. 'If I have to do this myself, I'll do it myself.' And with that, Uschi rose to her feet, strode over to stand next to Roger and, to the semi-naked middle-manager's astonishment, wrapped her fingers around his raging erection and began to stroke it with deft, German efficiency.

'Oh Christ,' croaked Roger, his head swimming.

'First handjob, Roger?'

Roger nodded.

'Never had a girlfriend?' Up and down her hand went the length of his horn, its path lubricated by the copious supply of pre-ejaculate.

Roger shook his head.

'Well no wonder you're such a fucking pervert. Perhaps it will be easier than I thought to fix you.' Uschi continued her slow masturbation of Roger's engorged, solid member. Her voice dropped to a kindly, soothing sing-song. 'That's it... just keep thinking about tits. Think about Alice big jiggling ones, how they bounced around when she jogged on the spot for you. How about Selina, last week, when those big pregnant nipples of hers slipped out of her bra... I bet you liked that, didn't you. I bet you love the way Vanessa never wears a bra in the first place, fucking French bitch with her huge perfect tits! Or Susan, or Sarah, or Kathrin, with those tight tops and deep cleavages, bouncing around the office... come on Roger, let it all out.'

'Y-you're forgetting someone,' stammered Roger as Uschi wanked him steadily.

'Oh yes,' she said. 'Me.'

Roger nodded.

'You like to think about my tits? My big firm Bavarian boobs? Hmm?'

'More than anything,' gasped Roger, out of his mind with sheer arousal. Pre-ejaculate was pouring from the tip of his penis in a steady stream, pooling on the floor beneath.

'Oh you do, don't you. I can feel you get extra big and hard at the thought of my lovely tits.' She found herself becoming rather intrigued by the constantly expanding girth of Roger's erection beneath her fingers, and quickly turned her mind back to the thought of her boyfriend. 'You want to know how my boyfriend likes to cum?'

Roger nodded.

'He titfucks me. You know what a titfuck is?'

'I... I can imagine.'

'Oh come now Roger, surely you watch pornography?'

Roger had never felt anything so stimulating in his life. 'I don't need it Uschi, I... I have you. My cock ejaculates every night purely from... oh my god... purely from watching you.'

Uschi couldn't make up her mind whether that was hot or creepy, but then again it made no difference. She just wanted this over with, and maintained her steady pumping action on Roger's slick, veiny erection. 'Let me tell you what a titfuck is, Roger. Imagine me taking this blouse off, and letting you see me in my bra. It's a sheer bra, Roger, and by the way, you were wrong about my nipples, they're not small and dark, they have wide, puffy areolae, the same warm mediterranean colour as my skin, and my nipples are little smooth dots at their centres.' She felt Roger's cock dry-heave at the description and increased the pace of masturbation incrementally. 'Imagine me taking the bra off and showing you my proud, firm breasts. You'd like that, wouldn't you, you pervert. My cleavage is warm and deep and tight, and I shake my breasts for you, I shake them and move them closer and closer to this stiff cock of yours until my cleavage swallows it up whole, and you fuck my tits Roger, you fuck them, harder, harder until you cum all over them!'

At last, Roger came. He stifled a scream of pleasure as his erection, still being manhandled by Uschi, let loose a torrent of built-up semen, a viscous white rope that sailed halfway across the room and draped itself across the width of the meeting table. Second and third payloads, similarly copious in volume, erupted through the air to join it.

Uschi, still wanking although by now rather distractedly, had never seen anything like this, never so much cum in one go, but again as with the size of Roger's erection, she kept this to herself. Thinking Roger surely must have purged himself entirely, she let go, but to her further surprise Roger's cock, well-trained in hands-free ejaculation, continued to spasm unaided. The next couple of spurts were, Uschi couldn't help but notice, equated to roughly the quantity her boyfriend would ejaculate first time around, but Roger's penis spat them out almost as an afterthought.

'Oh my,' Roger wheezed, unsteady on his feet as his wilting erection continued to wriggle and spurt out final spasms of thick sperm into the air. 'Oh fuck, Uschi.'

Uschi took a paper tissue from her pocket and wiped her hand with it, stepping away from Roger. 'Well,' she said, 'That should banish the dirty thoughts from your mind for a while. Clean all of this up. I'm going back to my desk to catch up on my work, and I suggest you do the same. Tomorrow, we continue this programme of purification!'

She unlocked the door and left Roger, spent and light-headed, to deal with the mess.

Uschi Ch. 03

bylctf©

The next morning, Roger opened his bra size spreadsheet and half-heartedly typed "32F" next to Alice's name. His Monday evening had been one of bored, restless introspection rather than his usual one of gentle, drawn-out gratification. Uschi had well and truly spent his load prematurely, ruining the entire rest of his day. What was the point of ejaculating half way through the day when there was still perving to be done? The complete and utter purging of his sperm-bloated testicles that Uschi had so dispassionately administered had left him uninterested in breasts for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. The only time Roger wanted to temporarily lose interest in these round, bouncing marvels of nature was when he was asleep, so his reserves of lust could be sufficiently replenished to make the most of his carefully staged daily bosom-watching regime. Monday afternoon had thus been rendered entirely redundant. Sure, he'd witnessed a bra fitting, learnt an employee's bra size, and at the age of forty experienced his first handjob while none other than busty Uschi from Bavaria had talked dirty to him. But where was the fun in that? She was trying to spoil all the mystery, take away his fun in gradually figuring it out for himself. This was a project that could potentially be dragged out for years of delicious breast-gazing procrastination, a thousand prolonged daily orgasms whittled down to a week's worth of straightforward investigation from Uschi and no doubt more infernal handjobs.

If Uschi wanted to shop his wandering eye to management then so be it: either way she was ruining his perfect life.

She cornered him by the vending machine while he was treating himself to a mid-morning Toffee Crisp. 'I have decided we should work on Sarah next,' she said.

Roger looked this way and that in a panic to make sure no-one was nearby to over here. 'Not here, Uschi. Please.'

'You complain when we go to the meeting room, complain when we talk here... make up your mind!'

'People will imagine all sorts of things about us,' sighed Roger.

Uschi cackled softly. 'Like, me wanking you off onto the table?'

Roger rolled his eyes and looked up and down the corridor once again.

'Whatever they imagine won't be anywhere close to the truth,' Uschi grinned. 'Anyway, Sarah.' Uschi explained that she had arranged to start going to the gym with Sarah at lunchtimes, which might present a useful opportunity for her to spend some time naked with her colleague, and more importantly to give Roger the insight into the bosomy Irishwoman's vital statistics he craved, and thus provide some kind of voyeuristic closure. 'By the end of this week, you will have Sarah's bra in your hands and you can read the label yourself. How would you like that?'

The horny prospect of Roger having his dirty way Sarah O'Reilly's capacious brassiere was tempered by suspicion about Uschi's machinations. 'What's your plan,' he asked back.

With a crafty smile, Uschi explained.

'It's absurd,' Roger said, finally.

'Trust me,' said Uschi, and turned to head back to her desk, her full, gym-pert buttocks wobbling confidently in dark patterned leggings.

Uschi and Sarah departed at noon to the gym, as planned. Roger inn the meantime kept his erection in perfect semen-hoarding equilibrium by shifting his subtly leering attention back and forth between the remaining members of the team who obliviously provided a cavalcade of light pornography for his viewing pleasure.

Susan lost a flake of croissant pastry down her low-cut top, the retrieval of which involved thrusting her hand deep into her cleavage, rummaging around for several blissful minutes, running her fingers around the inside of her clothing, then the insides of her bra cups, and when her digits finally found and extracted the troublesome crumb and her hand popped back out of her cleavage with a breast-quaking flourish of triumph, her nipples stood out, proud and erect through her clothing from the lengthy manual stimulation. Her breasts must be so sensitive, wondered Roger, not for the first time. He thought back to the sexual act Uschi had described. What had she called it? "Titfucking"? He wondered what it would feel like for her as well as for himself as he stared down the depths of cleavage between Susan's ample, still-quivering breasts. He pictured himself walking over to her there and then, pulling forth his now very hard erection and inserting it into Susan's exposed jiggling cleavage, further and further in until the twitching tip of his penis met her breastbone and the stiffened peaks of her luscious breasts squashed against his hips. Smiling, she would wriggle her clothed, partially-exposed bust around his agonized erection until he flooded her cleavage with wave after wave of thick semen and she herself shuddered with pleasure at the sensation of having so lust-primed a member stroke her ticklish bosom.

How different the same act would feel between redheaded Selina's solid, pregnancy-distended torpedo breasts, still the only incongruent, unmistakable outward sign of her early childbearing state. The expansive cleft semicircle of freckled decolletage displayed by her too-small green top was slick and shiny with the moisturizer she had so liberally slathered on the rapidly ballooning skin. In his mind's eye, Roger withdrew his still hard, still throbbing erection and, as Selina leaned forward to retrieve something from her handbag and her perky cantaloupe-sized udders swayed, dense and heavy, from her delicate torso, picture himself lying on his back beneath her and allowing his proud stiffness to be slapped and battered to a second, even greater orgasm between them as they dangled. Selina stood and arched her back, sore from this new experience of carrying breasts around that were twice, maybe three times as heavy as the already generously proportioned mammaries she had grown used to in her young adulthood. 'I wish I could pay somebody to carry these around for me,' she said aloud to no-one in particular and to Roger's furtive delight. Susan remarked that she'd have volunteers queuing up. Roger fantasized about becoming Selina's personal breast carrier, walking around behind her everywhere, his roaming fingers hefting the firm, weighty bulk of her engorged bosom to alleviate her discomfort, his fierce erection nestled comfortably between her pert, gyrating buttocks to alleviate his own.

When Vanessa then stood and, with a rolled-up magazine began leaping up and down in an attempt to swat a fly, meaty round breasts cavorting with braless Gallic abandon under her baggy grey T-shirt, Roger was grateful for the sobering effect of Kathrin's attire, which today was shrouding her torso with shapeless androgyny, and concentrated on observing her instead, as the spectacle of Vanessa's bosom jostling so soon after his lurid fantasies of intermammary penetration would certainly have led him to a premature ejaculation there and then. The new girl Alice, now sensibly-contained within her new brassiere and revealingly clad in a polka dot crop top just didn't seem to do it for Roger any more. He'd seen her breasts naked, and so the perverted thrill of the chase was lost. He cursed Uschi. Her plan was working.

By the time the scheming German beauty strolled back in with Sarah, both shower-fresh and glowing from the exercise, Roger was preoccupied with actual work for a change, and though his testicles were still lust-bloated from the sexual meanderings of his mind, his erection had subsided enough not to make a conspicuous tent in his pants. Which was fortunate, as Uschi requested his presence in the small private meeting room straight away.

'The first part of the mission was a success,' enthused Uschi once they were out of earshot, calling up some photos on her smartphone. 'While Sarah was showering I had some time in the changing room to myself, so I quickly borrowed her bra from her bag, laid it out, and got pictures. These will help us identify the exact make and model.'

Roger's penis stirred from its slumber at the sight of Sarah's strapless bra spreadeagled across the changing room bench. The black cups looked huge. 'So let me get this straight,' he said. 'We're going to buy an identical bra, steal hers, and replace it with our decoy?'

Uschi nodded, wide-eyed with perverse glee.

'Can't you just tell me her bra size now?' Roger said, slightly desperately.

'And deny you the erotic thrill of reading it off the label yourself? Hardly, Roger. Anyway, my plan is to replace the bra with an identical one in a slightly smaller size, and to do the same with her tube top. Have you noticed that she always wears that tube top on days she goes to the gym?'

Roger confirmed that yes, he had.

'Of course you have,' said Uschi, 'I forget who I am talking to. That tube top which only just covers her nipples. She wears that and the strapless bra because her tits get so hot after the workout it helps her cool down. Now, imagine that the bra and the top are that little bit too small...'

Roger imagined, and his erection thickened accordingly.

Uschi grinned. 'You're getting hard just thinking about it, aren't you? You're going to get to spend an entire afternoon watching as Sarah's big tits and pretty little pale nipples... oops spoiler... pop out of her bra and top, over and over again. You looking forward to that, Roger?'

'In a way.'

'Just think how hard you'll cum, Roger,' Uschi rasped dirtily. 'Finally the mystery of Sarah O'Reilly's big pale Irish tits will be solved. And I've seen them, Roger. They are magnificent. So round, so bouncy, so pert. So big.'

Roger gave a whimper.

'Now, there's one small issue,' said Uschi. 'And it is an issue in both sense of the word. Look closely.' She zoomed in on one of the bra cups and showed the photo to Roger. 'You see that?'

'What?'

'Those stains. They're faint but there. There's a white streak going down one cup from top to bottom, and another two that stretch diagonally across both cups. You know what those stains are, Roger?' Uschi's eyes gleamed mischievously. 'They're cum stains, Roger. Naughty Sarah, she's let some lucky man cum all over her big fat tits, and he's shot his load before she could even get the bra off. She's tried to wash it, but have you ever tried to wash cum out of black clothes? It's impossible.'

Roger knew, and never bought black clothes for precisely that reason.

'Anyway, Roger, what I'm getting at is if we're going to create a perfect miniature replica of Sarah's bra, we're going to need identical cum stains, and I'm going to need you to make them. So, after work, I'm going to the department store, I'm going to buy a few bras in my size - which is smaller than Sarah's, then I'm going to visit you at your home and together we'll work on the cum stains. What's your address?'

That evening, at home, Roger paced his flat anxiously. Ordinarily he'd have had his nightly release by now, but instead his erection twitched impatiently as it waited for Uschi's arrival. His mind, out of habit, kept replaying the day's most ostentatiously arousing moments, Susan with her hand down her bra, Selina's desire for a breast-carrying servant, Vanessa's fly-swatting, the photographic evidence of Sarah's semen-soiled brassiere, and the prospect of creating a forged simulacrum of that very undergarment...

The doorbell rang.

'Your apartment is so... clean,' said Uschi, dropping the cardboard department store bag onto the sofa as Roger took her raincoat.

'I may live alone, but I'm a tidy person,' bridled Roger. 'What were you expecting? Takeaway cartons and pornography everywhere?'

Uschi peeled the little sticker off the shopping bag and opened it, pulling out three smooth-cupped black strapless bras. 'You owe me a hundred and twenty pounds, Roger,' she said, dangling them from a teasing finger.

'You bought three?' spluttered Roger.

'We have to get those cum stains exactly right,' insisted Uschi. 'I'm not expecting you to get it right first time. I've seen you jizz and you don't seem to have a very accurate aim.' She was referring to the office handjob she had administered yesterday, and the ungodly load which had found its haphazard way onto floor and various items of office furniture.

'I wasn't doing the aiming: you were! You were holding my cock at the time!'

Uschi cackled. 'You're so funny when you're angry! Must be so frustrating for you waiting so long to have your daily release, eh? Not long now though, I'm going to put one of these on and let's get started. Where's the bathroom?'

Roger directed her. He had assumed they were going to put the bra on the table and do it that way, but Uschi was clearly a stickler for accuracy. She was going the Method route. And thus Roger's doubts concerning his own ability to ejaculate three times in one evening vanished as quickly as they had arisen: if he was going to be issuing his breast-crazed seed over Uschi's luscious tanned bosom he would most certainly rise to the challenge.

Eventually, Uschi emerged. She had tied her luxuriant black curls in a ponytail, clearly anxious to avoid getting any of Roger's sperm on it. A clean towel was tied around her hips, again presumably to protect whatever she was wearing beneath it from suffering the same unwashable fate as the decoy bra. The bra itself was either doing a miraculous job of elevating Uschi's breasts to their tantalizing perky heights, or, Roger suspected, Uschi's breasts were doing that all by themselves. The only contribution the bra was probably making was the tight straight cleavage. He knew Uschi's breasts to be close-set, but on the occasions he had seen her evidently braless in the office, her cleavage, though deep and inviting, had been more casually spaced. He noted with pleasure the soft pale tan lines that emerged from the cups and crossed her shoulders, and craved the sight of Uschi sunbathing topless.

Uschi was consulting her phone again. 'So, we've got three streaks of cum to splatter onto the bra. The first starts at the top of the left cup and makes its way down as far as the centre, the tip of the breast. So I'm assuming that her partner had his cock aimed over her left breast as either he or she wanked it to completion until some of it dribbled down onto the cup. The alternative is that she was titwanking him with the bra on, and for some reason everything ended up spraying to his right, her left. Then there's this one,' she swiped to another picture. 'It's a zig-zag Z shape. My guess here is that he came over her while she was jiggling her tits in the bra. And finally this long line of semen that crosses the entire right cup from one side to the other. She must have been lying down, with him cumming across her tits from her right. That one's probably easiest. Where's your bed?'

Dazed by this increasingly surreal state of erotic affairs, Roger led his partially-clad work colleague through to his bedroom, where she made herself comfortable lying face-up on the duvet. She patted the bed with her right hand. 'Kneel here,' she ordered brusquely. 'Get your prick out and spray your seed over my right tit. It needs to land in a clean, straight line, remember, and it can't go farther than that one cup.'

'Uschi,' sighed Roger, shuffling out of his trousers to strip down to a heavily tented and sticky pair of underpants, 'Your breasts turn me on like crazy. I'm going to go off like a fire hydrant. There's not just going to be cum over both your breasts, it's going to spurt out over and over again, layer after layer.'

'Hmm,' said Uschi, recognizing that Roger was probably right. 'What do you suggest?'

'Maybe if you pulled the left bra cup down and tucked it under your bust, then my cum would be spread partly over the right bra cup and partly over your naked left breast?'

Uschi gave a low chuckle. 'Nice try Roger, but you don't get to see my naked tits that easily!' She grabbed a handful of paper tissues from the box conveniently and unsubtly positioned on Roger's bedside table. 'I'll cover the left cup with this. Remember, one straight line of cum horizontally over the cup.'

Roger pulled his precum-drenched underpants down releasing his erection with a shudder. The first rope of cum sailed straight over Uschi's prostrate body to land on the floor next to the bed before Roger could even grab himself to control his aim. The second, still hands-free, draped itself across the width of Uschi's bust, drawing a thick silver line across the right bra cup as planned. Roger managed to grab his ejaculating erection in time to divert the remaining few jets of viscous semen onto, variously, Uschi's face, arm, and quivering upper bosom.

'Roger!' she fumed through a sticky mouthful of sperm. 'What the fuck!'

'It was all I could do not to get it all on the bra!' protested Roger as he sank, panting, down onto the bed.

Uschi carefully lifted the sperm-covered layers of tissue from the left bra cup, which had indeed acted as a stencil as planned. She wiped the thick pools of the stuff from her mouth and chest with another handful of tissues. 'This is a crazy amount of cum, Roger,' she muttered. 'You going to be able to go again?'

Roger closed his eyes and nodded in breathless silence.

'Well, the next stain we need is the zigzag on the underside of the same cup.' Uschi got to her knees on the bed to face Roger. 'I'm going to start jiggling, jizz when you're ready.'

And with that, Uschi set her bare olive-tanned shoulders into a sensuous, slow gyrating shimmy. Roger, groggy, gazed in awe at the two dense orbs as they careened and slammed into one another within the black bra. He drew himself up to kneel opposite Uschi on the duvet, his semi-erection jutting out horizontally from beneath his shirt, the glistening opening at its tip gaping dumbly like a goldfish's mouth.

'Hurry up, Roger,' said the breast-jiggling German. 'Surely this must be turning you on?'

Roger took his semi-erect penis in his right hand and started stroking it, his stare fixed on the jostling breasts before him. 'Very much so,' he said, picking up the pace and feeling his girth expand between his palm and fingers until he was, once more, painfully erect.

Uschi, still jiggling calmly, smiled. 'Impressive recovery time, Roger,' she noted. 'Let's hope your aim is as good!'

'I... I just want to see them!' wailed Roger pathetically, rubbing his erection with increasing desperation as he surveyed Uschi's expert breast-shimmy.

'No, Roger, no!' Uschi's eyes gleamed with cruel delight. 'Maybe some day soon, but not now. I need to keep that cock of yours hungry for all the other girls big boobs first.'

With a grunt, Roger unloaded. He gasped as a succession of painful wads erupted from his tightly-gripped penis. Semen, as rich and creamy as the fluid he had ejaculated only minutes previously, zig-zagged its way not only over the left cup of the bra, but over the right cup, then then the left cup again, until the entire bra was criss-crossed with wild scribbles of sperm. What didn't hit the bra sprawled in long strands along the upper bare reaches of Uschi's chest, as far as her collarbone. 'Oh dear,' moaned Roger as Uschi let her breasts sway to a disappointed halt. 'Oh dear, I... I'm sorry Uschi, I got it everywhere.'

'Yes, I can see that,' said Uschi dryly, clambering off the bed. 'We'll just have to start again. I'll get one of the spare bras.' With a shrug at Roger, she left the bedroom to change.

Half an hour later, Uschi had inspired yet two more ejaculations from her by now very pale manager, one horizontally across the left cup of her bra, another jiggling zig-zag just beneath it.

'Congratulations,' said Uschi, looking down at the forged stains with a nod of approval. 'How are you holding up?'

'I don't think I can do another,' wheezed Roger, placing a hand on his racing heartbeat.



'But we still need a dribble of cum down the right cup of the bra,' urged Uschi. She looked at Roger's flagging penis as it lolled, thick and reddened, against his hairy thigh. It really was big. Even semi-erect it was longer and thicker than her boyfriends, and she worked hard to suppress a secret admiration for so impressive an organ, even if it had been so unfairly bestowed on such a lonely, lecherous pervert.

'Tomorrow,' said Roger. 'Please.'

'I can't come round here every night, Roger, I have a life,' scolded Uschi. Then her frown turned to a mischievous smile. 'But I have an idea. Instead of wanking onto my bra again, why don't we do it with a titfuck?'

Roger looked up, first into Uschi's cleavage, then into her dark brown eyes. 'A titfuck?'

Uschi nodded eagerly, and flicked through the photos on her smartphone to a close-up of the stain in question. 'Look how this dribble of semen crawls down the cup. She must have had jizz all over the tops of her tits which then crawled its way down over the bra. I've never given a titfuck wearing a bra, for exactly that reason, but now's the perfect chance to try. What do you think, Roger? Would titfucking me in this bra make you cum one last time?'

'Oh yes,' said Roger in giddy disbelief. He felt an excruciating surge in his groin as blood returned yet again to his raw penis, and the fifth erection of the night started to brew.

'Great!' Uschi got off the bed and grabbed some paper tissues to stencil off the parts of the bra that were already sufficiently sperm-stained, then got to her knees with her back to the bedroom wall. 'Now come here Roger, and stick that cock of yours up my tight cleavage, and fuck it till you cum.'

In a daze, Roger obeyed. As he approached her on numb, unsteady feet, Uschi rose on her knees so that her chest was roughly in line with Roger's engorged genitals.

'I see the thought of a titfuck has revived you,' she noted, as Roger's erection rose autonomously with a series of unsteady jerks and twitches, a thick scarlet bulbous-headed banana rising obscenely from under the work shirt he still hadn't taken off.

Roger was still a virgin. He had often wondered whether nerves would get the better of him if and when he ever had his first time with a woman. Whether this even counted as a first time was debatable, but regardless he was so overcome with lust for Uschi's firm bosom that performance wasn't an issue. And so it was a rock-hard, supremely confident erection that nudged against the inch of cleavage beneath the band of the black bra and slowly penetrated its way up the tight channel of Uschi's cleavage. Roger had never felt anything so blissful in his life. Uschi's breasts looked like they would feel cold and hard, but the flesh that enveloped his fervent erection was soft, and smooth, the passage eased by the lubrication provided by Roger's copious production of pre-ejaculate en route. Eventually the purple throbbing head of his penis re-emerged, blinking, into daylight, nestled between the domed upper slopes of Uschi's olive bust.

'That's it, Roger,' said Uschi quietly. 'Now just fuck my cleavage, in and out.'

Steadying himself against the wall behind Uschi with the palms of his hands, Roger leaned forward and allowed his hips to rock back and forth, gingerly at first, then more confidently. The strap between the bra cups rubbed up and down the veiny top of his shaft while the inner walls of Uschi's tender breasts massaged its sides. Roger was now glad of the fact that he'd already ejaculated four times, because in his thoroughly spent condition he was able to enjoy a state of arousal which, while highly uncomfortable in its overwrought way, afforded him a prolonged level of stamina he would otherwise never have been able to enjoy.

And so it was that, several minutes later, he was still basking in the heavenly sensation of rhythmically penetrating Uschi's accommodating cleavage beneath the decoy brassiere. Uschi, meanwhile, was growing impatient. She worried that this therapeutic punishment was too much fun for Roger, and deep down she worried that it was too much fun for her. 'Are you nearly there, Roger?' she inquired.

'I don't know,' said Roger sleepily. 'I'm still very hard.'

'So am I,' said Uschi.

'Eh?'

'My nipples, I mean. They're like rocks under this bra.'

This piece of information, though entirely untruthful, had the desired effect on Roger, whose exquisitely tortured erection spat forth its final painful ropes of sperm, giving Uschi a thick pearl necklace.

'Christ!' croaked Roger, his eyes bulging as he withdrew his tender penis from between Uschi's breasts. 'Oh Christ Uschi. That was incredible. Agonizing, but incredible.'

Uschi stood, slowly, looking down onto her bosom as sperm crept down her throat and onto her left breast, toward the edge of the bra cup. Roger handed her some more tissues which she used to wipe off any excess, leaving one lone dribble to make its glutinous way down Uschi's jutting slope until it painted a perfect forgery of Sarah's own stain vertically down toward the protruding summit. 'Perfect!' she said.

Roger slumped back onto the bed, where he passed out until the alarm clock brought him back to abrupt consciousness. Uschi was, unsurprisingly, gone. The night's sleep had proven restorative, and his erection raged vertically upward from beneath the shirt he was still wearing. His testicles felt sore but heavy, no longer the wrinkly, withered things he had fallen asleep with.

Breakfast was more substantial than usual, two boiled eggs, and it was nursing a still-awkward morning glory erection that he arrived at the office, where Uschi herself had beaten him to arrive first.

'Sleep well?' she said.

'Like a log,' said Roger. Although it was just the two of them in the office, he lowered his voice. Walls have ears. 'Did you get everything you needed?'

'Yes,' said Uschi. 'I let myself out, as you were comatose. When I got home I washed the bra...'

'You washed it?' spluttered Roger. 'After all that work?'

'Relax! I put it through the washing machine so the stains would fade the way they are on Sarah's bra. I dried it overnight, now I'm wearing it to give it a bit of worn realism.'

'You're going to wear it to the gym? Won't she see?'

'I'll change into mine in the girls' toilets before we go. It's all figured out. Here, have a look, see what you think.' Uschi looked around to make sure no-one was coming, and unbuttoned her brown blouse to reveal the fiendishly-modified undergarment housing her sizable breasts.

Roger looked at Uschi's cleavage for a few seconds, picturing his furious erection disappearing and reappearing from within it. It almost seemed like it had been a dream. Then, finally, he turned his attention to the stains, faintly evident but convincingly aged through the laundering process. 'It looks the part. Indistinguishable from the real thing.'

'But quite a bit smaller,' winked Uschi. 'This afternoon you're going to get your hands on Sarah's real bra, get her true size for your dirty little spreadsheet, and with any luck you'll get to see those bouncy pale titties for real. And you're going to cum over them for the last time.'

Roger's erection wilted somewhat at the bittersweet finality of this prospect, and made his way to his desk while Uschi buttoned herself up and the bell of the elevator signaled the gradual arrival of the remaining team members.

The usual fodder for what would usually be Roger's post-work masturbatory fantasies unfolded throughout the morning. Alice quietly reiterated her gratitude for the new brassiere, clearly believing Uschi's assurance to her on Monday that Roger was "one of the girls", perhaps even gay, and thus an unthreatening confidante. She said the bra had changed her posture, and even her gait, and that her self-esteem had been boosted no end. Further length was added to Roger's burgeoning erection when Susan absent-mindedly reached into her left bra cup to adjust an uncomfortable breast, setting her entire chest into jostling undulations. Kathrin was in big-breasted mode today, especially so when Roger glanced up to the be met with the sight of the slender German stretching, arching her back and thrusting her round, solid breasts out as far as they would go, stretching a ribbed grey roll-neck sweater to its limits, the knit at the jutting peaks of her shapely bust thinning to give a glimpse of a red bra beneath. The colour choice in the lingerie only served to heighten the erotic thrill of the stolen voyeuristic moment. Sarah was in her gym-day strapless tube top, some semblance of professional dignity maintain by the beige cardigan covering her shoulders, but it was unbuttoned down to just beneath her ample bosom, and a vast amount of pale Irish cream upper breast bloomed nakedly for all to see, her nipples only just tucked away from view. His erection lurched hungrily as the thought of Uschi's bra-swapping scheme crossed his mind. Her own bra seemed small enough as it was, if Uschi's scheme work and Sarah could indeed be duped into wearing the laboriously cloned mini-equivalent, then the afternoon would have quite a treat in store for him. Vanessa, meanwhile, was giving the other busty girls a run for their money, her oversized mammaries a blur of wobbling motion under what could only be described as a cotton camisole, as she paced the office shaking a bottle of juice. The lace-trimmed garment, which any other woman would have considered underwear but for the sultry Frenchwoman clearly constituted acceptable office wear, began tucked tightly into the waistband of her skinny-fit jeans, but the sheer inertia of her rounded, shapely bosom as it danced to the rhythm of her bottle-shaking yanked the hem clear, exposing a flat stomach. Uschi pointed this out to her, and the young woman's subsequent attempt to stretch her top back down into her jeans nearly pulled the neckline down beyond the dizzy pinnacles of her breasts, and it was only because her puffed nipples snagged on the lace that she managed to preserve what little remained of her modesty. Selina was frumpily covered up in a baggy sweater, presumably still rather self-conscious about her milk-swollen torpedo-bosom after she had vanquished her last bra in that recent nipple-flaunting misadventure. She wasn't saying much today.

Uschi and Sarah announced at noon that they were departing for the gym and, breasts skipping jauntily, they headed for the elevators with their kits. It was over to Uschi now to see the plan through.

In the company canteen Roger was picking over a salad and trying to identify the ingredients when Susan approached his table with her tray.

'Mind if I join you?' she said in her Canadian drawl.

Roger smiled and pointed a fork to the empty chair opposite. His erection twinged painfully as Susan stooped to sit and in leaning forward provided an expansive view down her dress at the dark bumpy tops of her areolae that peeped over the lacy edges of her silky cream bra cups beneath while her udders sloshed hither and thither. Roger's eyes snapped back up to eye contact just in time for Susan to look back.

The two sat in easy silence for a moment taking mouthfuls of food, then Roger spoke up. 'Is Selina okay? She seems rather quiet today.'

'I'm glad you noticed,' replied Susan in a low voice. 'I spoke to her in the ladies' loos earlier. Although she laughed it off at the time, she's still very embarrassed about... nipplegate.'

Roger's priapism stirred. 'Nipplegate?'

'I find it hard to believe you've forgotten,' said Susan with a crafty smirk. 'She's pregnant, and keeps outgrowing her bras, leading to all sorts of wardrobe malfunctions. It must be mortifying. So, she's decided not to bother with them for the foreseeable future.'

'Without what?'

'Bras,' whispered Susan. 'She's doing a Vanessa today.'

'Is that wise?'

Susan leaned in, squashing her cleavage against the edge of the canteen table. 'That's what I said. In her condition, shouldn't she be, y'know, getting all the support she can. But she said that apart from the fact that she can't afford to keep buying new ones, her...' Instead of uttering the word out loud in the office canteen, Susan placed knife and fork on the table and hefted her own breasts by way of illustration which, Roger thought, was if anything far more conspicuous. 'Her things are so firm she feels like she's wearing a bra all the time anyway. So I guess she's feeling a bit strange coming to work like that.'

'I suppose if no-one remarks on it or gives her cause to feel uncomfortable then in time it will feel perfectly normal for her,' said Roger.

Susan nodded. 'I wondered,' she said through a mouthful of pasta, 'if we all did it... go braless... she'd feel better.'

'Oh?' Rogers ears pricked up. His prick pricked up, too.

'But on reflection it might seem like we were making fun of her, so I thought perhaps that's not such a good idea.'

Roger wanted to argue, but worried this might seem too desperate an attempt to unfetter his employees' assets for his own personal entertainment, so instead he just nodded and turned his attention back to an unidentified piece of vegetable.

Having made it back to his desk with a newspaper held strategically in front of his still tented groin, Roger kept an eye out for Uschi and Sarah. Everyone else except Selina was still on their break. He watched furtively as Selina stood and placed her hands on her lower back. She was still in very early pregnancy and the only evidence was her glowing complexion, a little extra fullness in her elfin face, and her two immensely engorged breasts. The baggy sweater which was clearly intended to shroud her burgeoning mammary glands in shapelessness was doing a very poor job if it, for though it hung loosely around her neck and down her arms, her breasts surged, expansive, firm, and skyward-pointing, with gravity-defying clarity beneath the knit. Now armed with the knowledge that her breasts were achieving this extraordinary feat completely unaided by lingerie, Roger felt his testicles boil and erection stiffen to the point that a full, lengthy ejaculation may strike at any second. Thankfully Selina sat down again and returned to her work.

The elevator pinged. Uschi emerged, hair tied back, gym bag slung over her shoulder. 'Sarah's on her way,' she explained to Roger. She gave him a subtle wink.

A few minutes later the elevator bell rang again and the doors opened to reveal Sarah, gym kit in hand, her brow furrowed with concern as she adjusted her boobtube with her other hand.

'Still feel wrong, Sarah?' asked Uschi with a convincing display of concern for her colleague's wellbeing. 'I'll find that deep heat gel I told you about, it's in my desk here. Maybe you're just a bit burnt out from the running.'

Sarah gave a stiff smile back and placed her gym bag in her locker space by the coat hangers. As usual she had left the cardigan in her bag while she cooled off post-workout, but her posture was hunched as she crossed the office space to the pool of desks where the team sat together.

Uschi reached into her bag and took out a large padded envelope and handed it to Roger. 'Roger, this is for you,' she said. 'It arrived from the Frankfurt office by internal post.'

'Ah, Uschi, thank-you,' acted Roger, taking the envelope.

Then, Uschi took the tube of deep heat gel from her desk drawer, and whispered to Roger, 'And this is for you, too. Watch.' With a twirl she stood again and tossed the tube into the air towards where Sarah was standing fidgeting with her bra strap. 'Sarah! Catch!'

Taken by surprise, Sarah's arms flew up instinctively to catch the thrown item as it tumbled above her head. And, in this sudden physical commotion, the tube top - also a sized-down decoy - gave up the fight against Sarah's chest and snapped downwards elastically, yanking the black bra down with it.

Roger's mouth fell open as Sarah's breasts tumbled, stark naked, into view as she caught the tube of deep heat gel with both hands. Nude, they looked even bigger than they did clothed, soft ripe pale globes the size of honeymelons and the stiff, wobbly texture of set jell-o. Having been pulled downward by the disappearing tube top and bra, they rebounded back up to shoulder height, slammed into one another, then rebounded again back outwards and from there started to follow their own jiggly orbits, all the while her nipples, girly pink nubs set atop smooth goose-bumped penny-sized areolae, danced high and giddy on their upper slopes.

This was too much for Roger's genitals, which proceeded to pump gallons of thick warm gloop into his underpants while Roger himself gasped in barely-concealed ecstasy. Luckily Selina, the only other person in the office at this point, was too distracted by the display of bouncy toplessness to care about or notice Roger's reaction.

Sarah screamed and attempted with difficulty to place an arm across both errant breasts, then dropped to her knees to hide behind the desk partition.

'Oh my goodness, Sarah!' cried Uschi. 'I'll get Roger out of the way while you change. Come on, Roger.'

She ushered him brusquely out of his chair and, grabbing the padded envelope from his desk, pushed him towards the small meeting room at the back where she closed the door behind them.

Roger clutched the meeting room table to steady himself. His knees buckled.

'Well?' Uschi's eyes sparkled. 'What do you think of Sarah's tits? Were they everything you hoped?'

Roger cringed as another spasm hit.

'You came?' Uschi said in disbelief. 'Let's see. Open your trousers.'

With trembling fingers, Roger unbuckled his belt and pulled down trousers and underpants as one. A static waterfall of semen stretched from penis and testicles down to the gusset of his underwear at his knees. 'Unngghhh,' he grunted, as his erection flailed and issued forth another eruption, then another, the first hitting Uschi in her pretty face, the second targeting her low-cut cleavage with remarkable accuracy.

Uschi took a hasty couple of steps back to avoid the risk of getting any on her clothes. 'Fuck, Roger, you're still cumming!' she marveled, and grabbed tissues from the box to wipe herself off. 'And frankly I'm not surprised, Sarah's titties are quite something, aren't they? So round and pale, so big and bouncy... Oh Roger, you're still hard! Here, open this.' She pushed the padded envelope across the desk.

Roger reached over and took the envelope, tearing it open. He emptied it onto the table. It was Sarah's bra, the real one.

'Go on,' urged Uschi. 'It's all yours now. Do what you want.'

Roger fumbled with sweaty fascination for the label.

'And?' Uschi leaned closer.

'Thirty-six E,' said Roger.

Uschi fluttered her hands together in applause. 'Wunderbar! Now wank over it. Go on, you've earned it I think.'

Needing no further encouragement, Roger took his still hard, still furious erection in his hand and masturbated furiously until, mere seconds later, his testicles released a second batch of pent-up sperm. Now free of the need to do so with pinpoint accuracy, Roger allowed the eruptions to spray liberally all over the cups of the bra.

'Yes,' breathed Uschi, 'Excellent... imagine those are Sarah's tits. Imagine she let you cum all over them while they bounce and jiggle, all pale and naked...'

Finally, Roger was spent. Semen was everywhere, on Uschi, on Sarah's bra, the table, the floor, stretched like molten cheese between Roger's genitals and thighs.

'So!' said Uschi. 'Two pairs of breasts down, four to go. Five if you count me.'

Uschi Ch. 04

bylctf©

Serendipity elected the next team member for Uschi to work on in her campaign to demystify her colleagues' breasts in the mind of leering middle-manager Roger Addington when her fellow German colleague Kathrin Fischer was summoned alongside the two of them to three days of training at Frankfurt headquarters.

'OK, so we have a few options,' Uschi said to Roger in a quiet corner of the London office canteen the day before departure.

'Enlighten me,' said Roger, picking glumly at a microwave lasagna. The now-familiar feeling of lust and dread which prefigured one of Uschi's schemes engulfed him. He'd never be able to look surreptitiously at Alice or Sarah's breasts again. It was the creative part of his sexual fantasy that drove his libido and kept it in perfect equilibrium. He now acknowledged that, and he knew that Uschi knew him all too well.

'There's a lingerie store in the Terminal 5 departures lounge. We could persuade Kathrin to get fitted there, you could overhear it... I don't know.' Uschi wrinkled her nose and dismissed her own idea straight away with the wave of a teaspoon. Some Greek yoghurt flew from it in the process and spattered lightly between the top two open buttons of her dark blouse and onto an exposed upper slope of breast. She left it there, the creamy white substance in striking contrast to her olive-gold Bavarian skin, and smiled at the attention it drew from Roger, who stopped mid-mouthful to gaze with unconcealed desire at the sight which so vividly (but far less copiously) recalled the decorative ejaculatory compliment with which his grateful regenerative organs had so jubilantly festooned those very same breasts in recent memory. 'You may stare, Roger, we have no secrets now. But perhaps not here.'

Roger cleared his throat, returned his attention to food and conversation, and chipped in an idea of his own. 'We could fix it so that you and Kathrin share a hotel room in Frankfurt, then you go through her things, find out her bra size and tell me?'

'We could, yes, but I could find out all the girls' bra sizes very easily myself and just tell you, but that would defeat the purpose. To cure you I need you to purge fully, and nothing makes you cum harder than the thrill of finding out for yourself. Rummaging through our underwear to read our bra labels, before finally seeing our big bare bosoms in the flesh. That's what I need to organise, just a little help to create these voyeuristic circumstances.'

The two sat in silent contemplation for a moment, then Uschi looked up again, a twinkle in her dark eyes and a smile spreading slowly across her plump lips. 'I have an idea.'

At Heathrow departures, Roger spotted Uschi and Kathrin checking in their suitcases and made his way to the back of the queue with his own, giving the two colleagues a wave as they milled about with their boarding passes. Roger glanced at Uschi's bust as it wobbled in a manner more animated than was customary beneath her pale blue blouse, and realised she had put her plan into effect.

'Hey Roger,' Uschi said, her unsteadily protruding chest leading the way toward him, Kathrin following a few steps behind. When they got closer, Uschi lowered her voice so as not to be overheard by the others in the queue in front of Roger. 'So, what do you think? Too obvious?'

'Is what too obvious?' Roger wasn't sure what he was meant to say.

'My chest without a bra,' Uschi elaborated quietly. 'I'm following the new flight safety regulations, but I'm worried my boobs bounce too much. But if you didn't notice, then I guess I needn't be worried. Don't want to be causing car crashes or poking people's eyes out!'

'What are you talking about?' said Kathrin in confusion. 'You're not wearing a bra?' She looked down and concentrated her attention on Uschi's chest. Uschi gave a little jiggle and Kathrin gasped.

Roger, meanwhile, was stiffening painfully already in his suit trousers. He had never seen Uschi braless before, and was awestruck by how high and shapely her chest remained when unsupported. It was the way he most liked to let himself get turned on, a bit of sustained, unresolved tease.

Kathrin was still confused. 'What is this about flight safety regulations? You're taking your bra off to fly?'

'Haven't you heard?' Uschi went very serious. 'They have banned bras in the cabin on international flights. It's the underwiring. I've put my bras in my hold luggage, didn't you?'

Kathrin turned to Roger, who nodded sombrely confirming Uschi's absurd lie. 'But I've already checked my bag in,' said the flustered Kathrin, running a tense hand through her light brunette curls.

'And you're still wearing your bra?' said Uschi.

'Of course I am!' Kathrin snapped under her breath. 'Now what am I going to do.'

'Don't panic Kathrin,' smiled Uschi. 'Roger hasn't checked his case in yet. Go to the ladies' toilets, take your bra off, and we'll put it in Roger's suitcase so he can check it in as hold luggage.'

Red-faced, Kathrin considered her options for a moment, then went to the ladies' as suggested.

'I can't believe she went for it,' said Roger.

Uschi gave a wink. 'I knew she would,' she said. 'She's so serious and worried about everything.'

'She'll find out though, surely?'

'When she does it will be too late. I'll just say I made a mistake.' She gave a cruel giggle.

Kathrin approached again. Roger and Uschi stared. The bra she had been wearing, indeed every bra she wore, must have been a minimizer. Free of the constraint, Kathrin's breasts were outrageous heavy-bottomed cone shapes, and her unfortunate choice of a thin beige merino sweater left very little to the imagination. Her pointy, impressively substantial breasts waggled up and down, side to side, and the outline of thick, swollen nipples was alarmingly evident. They stood out like chess pieces under her tight top. 'I look obscene,' she said. 'Everyone is looking.'

'We're in this together,' said Uschi. 'It's just till we get airside.'

'I wear a bra to hide these things,' said Kathrin, folding her arms over her conical breasts, distraught. 'I look like a porn star if I don't wear one.' Roger opened his case and politely looked away as Kathrin placed the discreetly folded-up brassiere in with his clothes.

In the security queue, Kathrin raised an eyebrow. 'These women are all wearing bras,' she observed, gesturing subtly to the well-contained breasts that surrounded them.

'Hey, you're right,' said Uschi, and laughed. 'Oops! I must have made a mistake!'

'Great!' fumed Kathrin. 'I've never been so embarrassed.'

'I've got to go braless too,' shrugged Uschi. 'If that's any consolation.'

'You can afford to,' simmered Kathrin. 'Your tits look exactly the same without. Mine are...'

'Very impressive,' winked Uschi. Kathrin turned away and fumed in silence.

Once through security, Kathrin made a bust-jouncing beeline for the La Senza lingerie store in the departures lounge, declining Uschi's opportunistic offer of accompaniment.

While Kathrin shopped, Uschi and Roger sat in a coffee outlet.

'Those tits!' marveled Uschi in a strained whisper. 'Did you see them!'

'Extraordinary,' breathed Roger, too erect for words. 'That's why her breasts always seemed to change size. It was all the different bras she used to hide those things.'

'I bet you can't wait to find out what size that bra is,' Uschi said. 'I'm pretty curious myself. It must be industrial strength, the way it manages to strap those titties down. How can someone so thin have boobs so big! And so pointy! And those nipples, so thick and swollen.'

Roger wondered who was more obsessed here, such was Uschi's enthusiasm for her colleague's unexpectedly copious bustline.

Kathrin approached. Presumably La Senza didn't stock minimizer bras, because although they were now less obscenely rampant beneath her sweater and the pointed protuberance modestly rounded off, her breasts were still notably larger than Roger and Uschi were used to seeing. They looked the same size as Vanessa's, thought Roger, their dimensions similarly offset and exaggerated by the young woman's otherwise svelte physique.

'Kathrin, I'm so sorry about the mix-up. Did you find something you liked?' Uschi said.

'There wasn't much choice,' frowned Kathrin as she slumped in a chair next to them. 'Not in my size.'

Roger was in heaven. The revelation of Kathrin's hitherto unknown bosominess made her seem like an entirely new person, an extra team member in an already very large-busted line-up of women.

Landing at Frankfurt airport, Kathrin was still in a sour mood and in her sulking haste to get to the hotel and check in she made no mention of the bra that was still in Roger's suitcase. Once in his hotel room, Roger took off his shoes and tie and was mentally preparing himself for getting that bra in his lascivious hands when there was a knock at the door.

It was Uschi, who pushed past him and surveyed the room. 'You have a better view than I do,' she said, looking out the window at the cityscape.

'I certainly do,' said Roger, opening his suitcase to reveal Kathrin's bra and licking his lips. 'Did you want to see it, too?'

Uschi span to face him, her still braless breasts swaying to attention with a sprightly jiggle. 'I'm here to make sure you completely drain yourself. I don't want you prolonging the moment any longer than necessary.'

By now completely void of inhibitions in front of his colleague, Roger unbuckled his belt, zipped open his fly, and carefully took Kathrin's bra from the suitcase. He then unfolded it and laid it out on the bed. It was a Triumph minimiser in pale blue. He extracted his fiercely pulsating erection, letting it protrude over the edge of the bed, and with trembling fingers turned over the bra label to read it.

'Fucking hell,' he murmured. 'Thirty-two H.'

'Oh my, Roger,' gasped Uschi. 'You must want to cum so hard now!'

Leaving his erection untouched, Roger moved the bra out of ejaculation range and stared at it, his heart pounding with arousal. Precum trickled from the eye of his penis in a steady stream onto the bedspread as he lost himself in the sight of the H-cup contraption that Uschi had so cunningly procured for him.

Uschi put her hands on her hips in impatience. 'How long are you going to stand there for?'

'As long as it takes,' said Roger in groggy bra-besotted limbo.

'This isn't meant to be fun, Roger,' said Uschi. 'We're supposed to be curing you.' She exhaled loudly, rolled her eyes, then strode over to stand next to him. 'Let's get this over with.' And with that, she took Roger's thick erection in her soft hand and gave it three brisk, efficient tugs.

Roger babbled incoherently as his penis immediately responded by launching the contents of his testicles into the air, several ropes of thick white semen sailing the width of the bed. Seeing that he was still very much erect, Uschi stared at the ceiling and, switching hands, resumed her masturbatory ministrations to coax several more ejaculations from Roger, each load diminishing in force, volume, and opacity, until he finally spurted a thin watery teaspoonful a few inches into the air and staggered backwards. Uschi went to the bathroom to wash her hands while Roger fell, panting, into the armchair by the window.

A knock at the door, just as Uschi emerged from the bathroom drying her hands. She looked through the bullseye in the door and turned in excitement to Roger. 'It's Kathrin!' she whispered hoarsely.

Roger, semi-erection still lolling stickily from thigh to thigh, rose frantically from the chair, stumbling as his trousers tangled around his knees. 'One moment!' he called, then quietly to Uschi: 'Hide in the bathroom.' While Uschi tiptoed, sniggering, back behind the bathroom door, Roger first carefully folded Kathrin's huge bra, stuffing it inside his suitcase and zipping it shut, then similarly stuffed his penis back into his boxers and fastened his belt and trousers.

'Oh, Kathrin, it's you,' he smiled as casually as possible when he opened the hotel room door. 'Come in.'

Kathrin followed him into the room. 'Nice view,' she remarked. Her impressive bust was well-contained and immobile yet nevertheless poorly underplayed by the new bra she had bought at the airport, her thin beige sweater clearly not accustomed to the extra strain placed on its knit. Her thin build made those breasts look almost - but not quite - comical to Roger's hungry eyes, and he felt his lust boil anew.

'What can I do for you?' said Roger.

'You, uh, have something of mine. In your suitcase.'

'Yes, of course,' gabbled Roger. 'Please, I'll let you, um, get it yourself.' Suddenly noticing the long, expansive trails of semen that spanned the white duvet in wild tangles, Roger hastily grabbed the suitcase and placed it away from the bed and onto the sideboard, then turned away while Kathrin unzipped the luggage.

'Got it,' she said. 'Thanks.'

Roger turned to face her again and went to open the hotel room door for her. They made arrangements to meet for a taxi to the office in the morning, and wished each other a good night. Roger watched her saunter down the corridor, her posture awkwardly overcompensating for the unwelcome front-loaded shift in her usual centre of gravity, her trim backside gyrating pleasantly in jeans.

He knocked on the bathroom door. 'She's gone,' he muttered.

Uschi re-emerged, grinning, and proffered a high-five, which Roger returned with inexperienced ineptitude. 'Thirty-two H!' she squealed. 'Another mission accomplished. I'm going to go to my room and take a bath.' She saw the hopeful glint in his eye. 'And you're staying here, much as I'm sure you'd like to watch. These braless wonders are staying under wraps for now. You can stay here and have a long quiet wank on your own. After all, that's what you like most.'

Roger contemplated his still-tender groin. 'To be honest, I'm not sure I can,' he said.

'And that's the idea,' said Uschi soberly. 'Like I said. Mission accomplished.'

But Uschi was wrong, realised Roger an hour later, as - manly energies restored by a club sandwich and a tiny bottle of minibar wine - he lay alone on the king sized hotel bed, his erection as rampantly desperate for release as it had ever been. His curiosity concerning Kathrin's ever-changing vital statistics was sated, but Uschi was forgetting the nipples. There were still the nipples to speculate over, in endless masturbatory fantasies. And, explosively satisfying though it had been to lay eyes on the delicious bare nipples of Alice and Sarah, he clung with greedy hands to the mystery of Kathrin's nipples, those alarmingly thick coat-pegs on their domed areolae mounds, drawing their erratic paths through the air at the extremities of her rubbery, pointed water-balloon breasts, concealed from sight, touch, and taste only by an ill-fitting and cotton-thin beige rollneck. And so it was at nearly 2am, lost in hands-free erotic fantasy, that Roger enjoyed a long overdue orgasm the way he wanted it.

The next morning at breakfast, Kathrin's breasts had once again vanished into discreet, businesslike nowhere. Uschi, too, was back in a sensible bra, but of course in her case the support elevated her luscious breasts to their customary height and size. Roger liked the effect both with and without the bra - as with Kathrin it gave him twice the pair of breasts to contemplate at night. Though this morning Uschi had exchanged her usual form-obscuring loose blouse look for a tight v-neck crop top in white, beneath a black blazer, both of which set off complexion, bustline, and cleavage in the optimum light. Was she wearing a little more makeup too? Her hair looked nice.

The extra effort put in suddenly made sense when the three of them stepped into the open plan office floor in search of the training room. The staff were all strikingly good looking. The men tall and strapping, the women sexy and carefree. At least by London standards. Apart from Roger's hand-picked recruits, the London office employees were a dowdy lot, Roger included. But their Germanic counterparts were on the whole younger, healthier, and a great deal more attractive. Though not necessarily all as busty as Uschi and Kathrin, the girls had an effortless femininity about them. He saw straightaway that Uschi had anticipated the need to raise her game among her fellow teutonic beauties and to thus ensure that her good looks would not be upstaged in the presence of the handsome male colleagues, and that Kathrin, conversely, had seen fit to differentiate herself in the opposite direction with her prim professional demeanour.

Roger's carefully-cultivated low profile within the organisation had seen to it that despite many years of service this was his first time to visit the head office. He barely even spoke a word of the language.

In the training room they were met by the course leader Ralf, a ruggedly good-looking fellow in his thirties, who introduced them to the young interns Maren and Mathilde, neither of whom, Roger noted with hidden pleasure, were lacking in the bosom department. Maren didn't look much older than eighteen or nineteen. She was petite with gently rounded hips, deep red hair cut into a floppy boyish bob, but there was nothing boyish about her chest. Two generous shapely handfuls of bosom quivered with youthful impertinence beneath a grey blouse as she shook Roger's hand, a smile on her pretty face. Mathilde, dark-haired and dusky like Uschi, appeared not even to be wearing a bra, so merrily did her own breasts, similar in size and shape to Maren's, jiggle under her green sweater in time with the handshake. She looked a little older than Maren, maybe twenty-one.

Roger sensed an unease in Uschi when she caught his eye. She knew he was thinking about these two fresh pairs of fantasy material, and that after a full day in a room with them his imagination would be working overtime. But her flirtatious desire for lantern-jawed alpha male Ralf was evident, and so now, perhaps, the tables were turned. As the training day dragged on and Roger, struggling to follow the largely German-language presentation, lost himself in idle daydreaming about his two young new fantasy objects, it was clear that Uschi herself - pouting, flicking her hair, crossing and uncrossing her shapely legs for handsome Ralf's benefit - was not above nurturing a healthy sexual imagination herself.

But Ralf appeared oblivious, and in any case, Roger was long past getting jealous of other men. He didn't consider himself attractive. He wasn't fat, but he was out of shape, and his hair was receding. A lifetime of being ignored by women had taken its toll on his self image, and the fact that he was to all intents and purposes invisible was both the cause and the enabler of his passive sexual existence as a low-level peeping tom. While the girls' eyes were on Ralf, Roger's were free to settle on their bounteous bosoms.

Once the day's training had ended, Roger was looking forward to getting back to the Hilton to relieve the pleasantly aroused state he had been enjoying for the past eight hours, and was packing his briefcase alongside Uschi and Kathrin when the two interns sidled up and, hands behind back and smiling ingratiatingly, asked something in German. Uschi answered them with a shrug and gestured to Roger.

'What is it?' smiled Roger.

Maren took a step toward him. 'You're staying at the Hilton, correct?'

Roger nodded.

'The Hilton has private sauna rooms. They're brilliant, the best sauna in Frankfurt. Whenever there are visitors to the office who are staying there, we like to ask if they can get us access. Mathilde and I love a sauna.'

Mathilde grinned and nodded in enthusiastic confirmation, her seemingly braless chest nodding along briskly.

'Well, I don't know...'

'You approve the expenses, Roger,' said Uschi.



I don't think I can do that,' said Roger.

Maren was not to be dissuaded. 'Your hotel package should include use of the sauna. If you book a private sauna room, we can all use it together, and go as your guests. We should all go as a team! Team bonding!' She called across to Ralf, a couple of desks away, and he gave a thumbs up and replied in German. 'Ralf's in,' she said, instantly perking up the attention of Uschi and Kathrin.

'I suppose,' said Roger with unease. He'd never been in a sauna before. They agreed to meet in the hotel spa reception at 8pm.

When Roger left the office building, Uschi was already outside waiting for a cab.

'Coming back to the hotel Roger?' she said. 'Looking forward to the sauna?'

Roger looked up and down the street. 'I should find somewhere that sells swimming trunks,' he said with a grimace.

Uschi gave one of her long, low laughs. 'Oh Roger. This is Germany. Saunas are nude. And mixed.'

'Th-then...'

'Correct. You and Ralf are going to have your cocks out, and the two interns and Kathrin and I will be baring our tits, asses, and pussies.' Uschi's eyes gleamed filthily, her tongue finding its way lewdly between her white teeth.

'Oh fuck. Oh fuck.'

'Which is why you're coming back to the hotel with me now. We have some preparation to do.'

Uschi shut Roger's hotel room door behind them while he meandered toward the window, head teeming with fear and lust.

'What's going to happen, Uschi? I've never...'

'Roger, in about one hour we're all going to be naked together. Completely, stark naked.'

'Uschi, I'm going to cum. So hard. Right there in front of you all.'

'I know.'

'I haven't even seen your breasts naked and they still made me cum harder than I've ever cum before. And the thought of finally seeing your nipples... and not only that but Kathrin and those two interns... Uschi it's going to be so embarrassing. Just being naked in front of you is going to be embarrassing enough, you'll be comparing me to Ralf. But then it'll get worse, I'll get hard, I'll ejaculate... oh god.'

Uschi placed her rounded bottom on the edge of the bed and patted the duvet next to her, beckoning Roger across to join her. 'First of all Roger, you've nothing to be embarrassed about. Your body is a little out of shape, but I don't think you realise quite how big you are... down there.'

Roger looked up. Was she teasing him? He had virtually no frame of reference where other men's genitalia were concerned, and had no concept of whether he was well or poorly endowed. Not that it mattered, anyway. 'What do you mean.'

'You've got a big dick, Roger,' Uschi said flatly. 'Even on the rare occasions when it's not erect, it's pretty impressive. So, however well hung Ralf turns out to be, I'm betting you'll be giving him a run for his money.'

Roger's penis surged at the compliment.

'And secondly, you're not going to cum. Or even get hard.'

'Why not?'

'Because I'm going to make you cum now, as many times as it takes.' Uschi stood, shrugged off her blazer and threw it onto a chair, then kicked off her heels.

Roger's heart raced.

Uschi fingered the hem of her top. 'Now, you're going to see all of our tits pretty much straight away. The changing rooms are mixed. We're all Germans, we're all comfortable with nudity. You need to look like you are, too. Go on, get your cock out.'

As Uschi's top peeled off to reveal a white balconette bra which snugly encased her generous breasts, Roger shuffled out of his trousers. The sight of Uschi's bra added another inch to the already painful erection that tented his underpants. 'Uschi, I'm not going to cope.'

Uschi turned away and, bending over, wriggled out of her skirt. Her plump, perky buttocks strained at skintone lace hotpants. Elastic lace garters around her full thighs held sheer stockings in place. 'You might come in to the changing room and I'm doing this. Or it might be Kathrin standing in her panties. Or maybe one of those eighteen-year-old students just wearing a top, with their pussy and ass already naked. She turned again to face Roger, who in turn was now fumbling with his shirt buttons. He gazed upon her curvaceous, effortlessly lithe figure. Her hair was still tied up in a loose knot, showing off her graceful neck. 'And every time one of us bends over,' Uschi continued, 'You'll get a great view down our cleavage.' She stooped to roll a stocking down, allowing her firm, olive-skinned globes to dangle and jostle in the cups of her brassiere. 'And our jiggling cleavages are going to make you want a titwank.' She rolled down the other stocking. 'And not the kind in a bra, like we did last week. The kind of titwank where both tits are naked, free, and jiggling, motorboating around your hard dick. It's all you're going to be able to think of.'

Roger pulled down his pants and released his ferocious erection with a shudder that coursed through his entire body. Watery fluid was emitting from its tip already, streaming down the underside of his shaft and drenching his ballsack, sticky and cooling in the air-conditioned hotel room atmosphere.

'I know you're a breast man, Roger,' mused Uschi with a raised eyebrow, 'But let's just see what effect a lovely lady's bottom has on you.' She turned her back on him again, and deftly dropped her hotpants to the floor around her feet.

Whether it was her buttocks' vague resemblance to breasts, or whether it was just the sheer perfection of her bottom, Roger's suffering penis spat a spontaneous warning shot of thick ejaculate through the air which hit Uschi in the back.

She yelped in response, then giggled. 'You like my ass?' she asked over her shoulder, and jiggled her buttocks cheekily. 'My boyfriends have always loved it, much more than my boobs. They say it feels nice and soft pressed against their hips when they're taking me from behind. Though none of them ever came in their pants just from looking at it.'

'I'm... I'm sorry,' mumbled Roger dizzily.

'Don't apologise, it's a compliment,' smiled Uschi, spinning to face him. He gazed down between her legs. Her tousled pubic hair was as thick, dark and luxuriant as the hair on her head. 'Besides, we need to empty you as quickly and powerfully as we can. Now: tits. Tits, boobs, jugs, hooters, very shortly you're going to be seeing them all. I was going to wait to show you mine, but circumstances mean you're getting a preview. I'll save the bra size for the end of our project, so you've still got something to wait for.' She fingered the bra's shoulder straps. 'You ready?'

Roger wasn't, but nodded anyway. If he felt absurd standing there in his socks and vest, but neither this nor his genuine fear of suffering a fatal heart attack diminished his overwhelming state of sexual arousal.

'Let's do this,' said Uschi, and in one sweeping motion slipped the elasticated straps down off her shoulders and tugged the bra cups down from her chest allowing both bared breasts to surge forth, wobbling voluptuously.

'Good god,' wheezed Roger as semen flew from his convulsing erection through the air towards Uschi's naked body, pelting her face, arms, stomach, pubis, and of course her luscious quivering breasts and broad, softly swelling skin-tone areolae and nipples. 'They're magnificent.'

'You don't say.' Uschi looked down at her nude, semen-garlanded breasts with pride, then looked past them at Roger's erection which did not appear to be going anywhere. 'Roger, you've got too good at prolonging your orgasms. These hands-free eruptions are impressive and no doubt a pleasurable way for you to pay tribute to a beautiful pair of boobs, but it will never do, not when we're milking you dry.' She shimmied her shoulders, giving her sticky breasts a boisterous wobbling jiggle that caused Roger to moan allowed as his post-ejaculatory erection stiffened in response. Still keeping the shimmy-shake going, she descended gracefully to her knees and shuffled forward until the jostling mounds of feminine beauty collided with Roger's groin, motorboating his turgid iron-bar erection into hitherto uncharted realms of pleasure. This way and that Uschi's careening breasts thumped his organ. Roger, barely capable of analytical thought at this point nevertheless could not fail to marvel at how something as dense and firm as Uschi's luscious bosom could simultaneously be so soft, silken, and yielding. He had titfucked her before, of course, with the counterfeit cum-stain bra holding her assets strictly in place, but it turned out no such assistance was needed, as Uschi's breasts had a naturally tight depth of cleavage and an autonomous inertia that took care of matters all by themselves.

'I've always wanted to try this,' Uschi confided, looking up at Roger while she continued to shimmyfuck his straining erection. 'My boyfriend likes my tits, but not this much. He'll fuck my cleavage, but he always has to finish off by hand, either himself or me wanking him off onto my chest. Now I have the biggest tit-fetishist I've ever met and I can finally use my gifts as nature intended. Lucky me!'

On cue, Roger unloaded once again, Uschi's merrily jostling globes sending semen spraying in all directions. He chanced grabbing her breasts with his feverish hands, and to his relief Uschi did nothing to stop him. Heavenly though the motorboatfuck was, he needed to know what a pair of breasts like hers felt like, and as he mashed them around his still-ejaculating penis he savoured with bliss the sensation of gently sinking his fingertips into their smooth, elastic mass.

'Naughty Roger,' Uschi purred, as the perverted middle-manager kneaded and groped away at her proud womanhood. 'But, whatever gets you off.'

'Bra size,' Roger grunted. 'What size are you? Please.'

'That is still for me to know and for you to find out,' she wagged a finger as Roger's final few deliveries of semen pumped up from between her manhandled breasts. She pointed to a patch of boob still un-jizzed-upon. 'You missed a bit.'

Roger continued to use Uschi's substantial breasts to masturbate his sputtering erection to final, messy completion, then reluctantly relinquished his feverish grip and staggered back, extending a thick curtain of translucent semen between the tip of his penis and Uschi's deep cleavage. 'Christ Uschi,' he wheezed. 'You're incredible.'

'So are you, Roger,' sighed Uschi in exasperation, eyeing his semi-erection as she stood. She gave her ejaculate-decorated bosom an exploratory shimmy, and rolled her eyes as Roger's erection returned, creaking slowly to a forty-five degree angle while his face contorted with pained misery. 'We're running out of time, Roger. I'd hoped after cumming twice you'd be bored of my tits but that clearly isn't the case. And I shudder to think how you react when you see Kathrin's.'

Roger moaned with pleasure at the very thought.

'Exactly. You're half an hour away from seeing them stark naked, along with whatever treasures those two interns are hiding in their blouses. On the bed, quick.'

Uschi ushered Roger from the chair where he'd only just collapsed and pointed to the bed, where he lay down, heart pounding, erection high and twitching. Uschi knelt beside him, back straight, chest out, her slim waist in attractive contrast to her rounded hips and bodacious, pale-nippled bust. And, with scant regard for the raw, sensitive condition of his penis, she grabbed its stiff, engorged bulk and proceeded to administer a brisk handjob.

Roger stared in awe at Uschi's perfectly formed globes as they wobbled in time with her masturbatory activity. The expression on her face was all business as she stroked Roger's rigidity, calmly allowing his gaze to linger, uninhibited, on her ample bare bosom. She noticed that every time she applied an extra shimmy to her breasts, Roger's erection pulsed and swelled beneath her fingers, and so she began to schedule intermittent jiggly boosts to Roger's libido to expedite a climax which surely had to be happening soon. She'd never been with a man who had still been this hard so soon after two orgasms, and, as privately unsure of her own physical attractiveness as anyone would be (even someone with a body like Uschi's), she wondered if Roger might have a serious medical condition that caused this priapic state to persist.

'Roger, close your eyes and imagine Kathrin is doing this to you. Kathrin, with her tits twice the size of mine.' Still masturbating him, she leaned across and jiggled her dense, soft breasts against the tip of his erection. Unsurprisingly, this had the intended effect of pushing him over the edge, and as she sat up again Roger came, relatively weakly, over his own face, chest, and stomach, the final spurts flowing down his shaft onto Uschi's hand.

And, at last, Roger's erection began to wilt and shrivel. Uschi let go and wiped her gunged hand on Roger's hairy thigh. She gave her bosom a final experimental jaunty wiggle. Still Roger's penis withdrew in exhaustion.

'Looks like we've drained you,' said Uschi.

Roger, pale, nodded. He had never orgasmed so powerfully and so many times in such a short period of time.

'Let's shower together, as a final test,' suggested Uschi, hopping from the bed and trotting to the bathroom, bare bust eagerly leading the way.

Roger stumbled after her. He felt like he would never cum again, ever.

The hotel room shower, conveniently, was a spacious wetroom with more than enough capacity for the two unorthodox sexual partners.

Uschi handed Roger one of two bars of soap. 'Wash the spunk from my tits,' she instructed, 'And I'll wash the spunk from your cock and balls. I've never known a man soap up these big boobs and not get hard, especially with my slippery hand on their dick!' And thus she got to work. True enough, though Roger did his best to relish the licence to manhandle Uschi's proud, perky breasts, squeezing them, fondling them, bouncing them up and down and side to side, yet his penis remained flaccid. Uschi ran a soapy hand up and down its floppy length, slapping it wetly this way and that. She massaged his tight, emptied scrotum with her other hand, mashing his genitals into a soapy jumble, but all Roger felt was discomfort and boredom.

'Oh Roger,' pouted Uschi through the raining water in mock-disappointment. 'Is groping my naked soapy bosom not turning you on?'

'Ordinarily, yes,' sighed Roger. 'Could we try again later?'

'Ha, don't you wish we could.' Uschi barked a hollow laugh, letting go of Roger's limp penis and letting it dangle forlornly between his thighs. 'I'm only doing this to make sure you lose interest in me, in all the other girls. This is the last time you get to do this.'

'But your bra size, Uschi, I need to know it.'

Uschi turned off the shower and reached for a huge fluffy white towel. The contrast with her rich, southern European complexion was electrifying. 'Hmm. Well maybe we still need to organise something there. But don't be getting your hopes up, and remember, this isn't for fun.'

Roger's penis was still aching from overexertion when he and Uschi convened with their colleagues at the hotel spa reception. Maren and Mathilde were grinning at the prospect of purloined hotel luxury. Kathrin's bust was still packed tightly away beneath her top, as Roger noted when he stole a glance as she shared a quiet gossipy word with Uschi.

'Thanks for signing us in, Roger.' Ralf's rumbling teutonic tones snapped Roger from his ruminations. The tall German extended a powerful hand of gratitude, crushing Roger's hand with a level of alpha-masculinity his British colleague feebly failed to match.

The receptionist assigned them a large private sauna room for six, and led them through to the spacious communal changing room.

Maren and Mathilde were the first to happily discard their clothes. Mathilde's blouse opened to reveal a black camisole which loosely shrouded an indeed braless pair of medium sized wobbling breasts. She chattered in German while she wriggled her way simultaneously out of her trousers and pink knickers, and placed these along with the blouse on a bench. There were no lockers in the private changing room, so underwear was being tossed about carelessly.

Meanwhile, Maren's top had come off to bare a succulent pair of pink kitten's-nose nipples that had escaped from a too-small floral bra, the cups of which supported her pale grapefruit-sized breasts half-heartedly from where they had retreated beneath. Mathilde laughed and pointed, peeling off her lacy silken undergarment, thus stripping nude in one go. Her breasts were like slightly scaled-down versions of Uschi's, with a curly mop of black pubic hair between her fit thighs to match. Being smaller in size, they were lighter and thus more mobile, wiggling and jiggling as she remarked hysterically upon Maren's errant nipples. Maren too was shrieking with laughter now, and tugged the cups of the bra upwards to hide her nipples, but only succeeded in pulling the entire bra all the way up causing both lusciously round breasts to tumble down under it, bobbing clumsily about. The failed experiment yielded yet more silly laughter.

Ralf rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by this girlish behaviour. Off came his boxers. Roger was surprised to see that, despite Ralf's otherwise Nietzschean physique, he was remarkably poorly endowed in the genital area. It boosted Roger's confidence a little, knowing that if nothing else he had the biggest dick in the room. Ralf ignored the chatter and strolled toward the steam room for some peace. The girls stopped talking briefly to admire his well-formed buttocks.

Roger was down to his underpants himself and grateful to Uschi for the rigorous sexual draining she had performed. Otherwise he would have been very, very hard by now. Uschi herself was already naked again. Roger looked in woozy awe at the supple feminine perfection of her nude body as he folded his vest and placed it onto his shirt. Uschi caught him looking and discreetly shook her head in a scolding manner.

Maren was now naked too, a square of ginger curls remaining to protect her modesty. Her breasts were full and high, larger than Mathilde's but smaller than Uschi's, though with their petite girlish frames both girls appeared bustier than they really were.

Kathrin was still fiddling with her shoelaces, but was already down to her bra, and the mass of breast fighting against the industrial-strength minimiser was a sight to behold. Both breasts had minds of their own and appeared to be consciously and actively attempting to wrench the bra asunder.

'Roger, let's go.' said Uschi.

Roger shrugged his way out of his underpants. He caught Kathrin glance at his penis for slightly too long, then awkwardly caught her eye. She blushed and hastily returned her attention to the knotted shoelace.

Between the changing room and the sauna itself was an anteroom with four showers in open plan. The two of them briefly alone, Uschi took advantage of the noise of the shower to quickly regroup with Roger. 'This is it,' she whispered hoarsely in his ear, her soft jutting breasts sandwiching his arm as water rained down on the two of them for the second time that evening. 'All the bras are just lying there for you to sneak a look at. Kathrin will come in here in a moment, then you head back in there, do whatever you have to do with the bras, then join us again.'

'OK,' said Roger. He backed away from Uschi under another shower head, then looked for the door just as Kathrin walked in, preceded by her bust.

Uschi and Roger's jaws dropped in unison.

Even not wearing her heels, Kathrin was tall, Roger's height. Her waist and hips were boyishly slender, her legs and arms quite thin. All of which made her breasts seem all the more preposterous. Uschi and Roger had had a sneak preview of Kathrin's form and magnitude during Uschi's bralessness caper in the airport, but nothing could have prepared them for the real, naked deal. Each breast was at least the size of Kathrin's head, if not bigger. They drew graceful concave slopes down from her collarbone and two thirds of the way down to her stomach they swooped back up dramatically to heady peaks where thick, gently blushing nipples the size and shape of rubber baby-bottle tops swayed unsteadily with obscenely graphic allure. The firm, dense, heavy-bottomed body of each breast curved generously back round to meet her ribcage, a tiny amount of sag confirming that, yes, she was still human.

With a self-conscious smile, Kathrin stepped under the shower head opposite Roger, and allowed the water to pummel her extraordinary top-heavy body.

Uschi mouthed the words "thirty-two H" at Roger with a wink, whereupon Roger felt a twinge in his groin that prompted him to step out from under his shower towards the doorway back to the changing room. Unfortunately (or fortunately) he did so at the precise moment Kathrin also stepped forward and the two collided into one another. Kathrin's firm, smooth, elastic breasts ballooned rudely into Roger's chest, her proud nipples prodding his own with almost painful ferocity. At the same time, Roger's now slowly thickening manhood nestled itself for the briefest of moments in the brunette-thatched groove between Kathrin's slender thighs. Again, Roger was grateful for the milking Uschi had given his lascivious genitals, for had she not done so his erection would have plunged its way instantaneously up that tight passageway deep into Kathrin. Instead, Kathrin rebounded backwards a little, her breasts careening heavily against one another from the upheaval, and she mumbled an apology with a coy embarrassed smile.

Roger apologised too and stumbled back into the cold air of the changing room, shutting the steamy glass door behind him.

Before him in the empty room, untidy piles of clothes lay on wooden slatted benches and hung from hooks on the wall. Knowing he shouldn't dawdle, he dried his hands on a towel and grabbed Maren's pale blue floral bra, the one that had proven no match for her still-growing breasts, and fumbled for the label. 'Seventy-five D,' he muttered aloud. 'What's that in English.'

'Thirty-four D,' came Uschi's sultry voice from behind. Roger jumped. She had snuck in after him. 'I realised my bra is in here too, so I thought I should supervise you. Also I figured you might need wanking off again after your tussle with Kathrin.'

Roger fondled Maren's bra, held it up to his nose and inhaled its perfumed, breasty scent.

Uschi wandered over to Mathilde's clothes. 'Can't believe that little slut was braless all day. What did you think of her tits?'

'They reminded me of yours, actually,' said Roger.

'I thought the same,' said Uschi. 'Mine looked like that when I was eighteen. I think they're nicer now though, don't you agree?'

Roger looked up from Maren's bra at Uschi, who was striking a pose to accentuate her large, delectable nude bosom. 'Yes Uschi, they are gorgeous. Perfect.'

'Thank-you,' she said with a grin and a cleavage-dangling curtsey. Then she looked up at Roger's penis, which was stirring with new life. 'Is it me, or has your cock grown?'

'I nearly fucked Kathrin by accident,' said Roger. 'As if seeing then feeling those insane H-cups wasn't enough. We're lucky I'm not solidly erect already.'

'Luck has nothing to do with it,' Uschi pointed out. 'You're tactically unturnonable. Now, about Mathilde...' She picked up the intern's shoulder-bag and rummaged through it, then paused, smiled at Roger, and threw something at him across the room. Roger caught it. It was a bra.

'Looks like she keeps one for emergencies,' Uschi winked. 'Read it out.'

Roger found the label. 'Seventy-five C. So that's 34C I guess?'

'Yes, well done, you're catching on!' Uschi squeezed her arms together girlishly, forcing her pliant breasts together in a manner that was decidedly womanly, a cleavage so deep and tight that Roger's penis, stirring ever more, was transported straight back by association to that comfortable tightly-closed gateway to Kathrin's inner sanctum. 'But we haven't much time. One more quick look at Kathrin's bra then sauna?'

All Roger wanted was to put an end to the tortuous mystery of Uschi's own vital statistics, but here she was alone with him, stark naked and a curvaceous vision of orgasmic perfection, so he wasn't about to argue. He threw back Mathilde's cream T-shirt bra which Uschi stowed carefully back in the bag, and then joined her next to Kathrin's pile of clothes, her enormous 32H minimiser contraption spreadeagled atop. So accustomed was Roger now to the feeling of Uschi's sensitive fingers on his member that he didn't even notice at first that, as he stood in silent respect for this marvel of mammarian lingerie, Uschi, standing next to him, had grabbed his penis with a paper tissue in her hand and was wanking him off in her efficient German way. Sure enough, Roger's rekindled lust had returned sufficiently for a modest but serviceable erection to have hardened and extended beyond the span of Uschi's nimble grip. Within seconds he was cumming, weakly and painfully, into the handkerchief which Uschi had slid over the head of his erection just in time.

'Let's join the others,' said Uschi softly. 'They'll be wondering where we are.'

In the pre-sauna shower again, Roger took Uschi's hand. 'Wait, I just want to be doubly sure I'm not going to get hard,' he said. 'Can I touch your breasts please?'

'If you think it will help, sure.'

Roger cupped Uschi's heavy puffy-nippled breasts and sank his fingers gently into them, savouring their soft, fleshy consistency. Uschi reached for Roger's penis and flopped it limply from side to side while he kneaded and caressed her proud bosom.

'I think you're safe,' she said, then yelped a little as Roger's shamelessly groping fingers roamed over her pale, shiny areolae. 'Not the nipples please, Roger,' she breathed. 'They're very, very sensitive to that kind of attention. Like yourself, I don't want to appear too aroused.'

Roger dutifully let go, allowing Uschi's globular breasts to wobble back to their high, bouncy pout. 'Sorry,' he said.

'It feels nice,' insisted Uschi. 'Just not now.'

This curious exchange only served to deepen Roger's confusion as to Uschi's motives in this sexual game she was playing with him. Was she implying that at some future point he might be permitted to continue the nipple play? And where was her supposed boyfriend in all of this? Did he know all of this was going on?

They pushed open the frosted glass door into the steam room.

Once Roger had acclimatised to the initial blast of heat, he looked around. The first thing that struck him was Kathrin, sitting primly facing him, knees together, hands on the bench either side of her, back straight, her sturdy, unaccountably pert H-cups thrusting gigantically forth from her skinny frame, beaded with sweat, her pale baby-bottle nipples staring up and out.

'Where have you two been?' giggled Maren, sitting a level up from Kathrin, her pink nipples bobbing gently atop her soft round breasts as they wobbled.

Uschi lounged on a wooden bench. 'It's Roger's first time in a mixed sauna,' said Uschi. 'I was just explaining to him that there's no reason to be shy.'

Roger was mortified, but had to admit to himself that it was a plausible cover story for what they had really been up to. 'Yes, bit embarrassing really,' grimaced Roger. 'We're not really used to seeing each other naked in the U.K.'

'You're quite conservative as a nation when it comes to your bodies,' said Kathrin. 'I've come to discover this while living in London.'

'Here in Germany we get our tits out all the time,' said Maren, giving her own a liberated shimmy. 'And no-one cares. Look at Ralf. Surrounded by four young naked women with lovely big bosoms, and he doesn't react at all. He's seen it all before, haven't you Ralf?'

Ralf, dozing on his back, his modestly-sized penis flaccid on his muscular stomach, grunted in mild irritation.

Mathilde was lying on her front, head resting on folded arms, her C-cups squeezing out to the sides beneath her. 'I feel bad for Uschi and Kathrin, living in repressed London,' she murmured. 'It must be such a relief for you coming back here to Germany and being free with your bodies again.'

'Absolutely,' said Uschi, her bosom heaving. 'You don't fully know someone until you've been naked with them.'

'So Roger,' said Maren, shuffling over to sit next to where he had sat down and leaning in conspiratorially. 'If you've never had a team sauna back in London, this must be the first time you've seen Kathrin's boobs?'

Kathrin looked across at the young intern with a raised eyebrow.

'Yes, it is,' said Roger, trying not to look at the boobs in question.

'Does it feel strange?' continued the young redhead. 'It's normal for us, but I suppose this must be kind of sexy for you?'

'Um, not really,' said Roger. 'I try not to think of colleagues in that way.'

'Well, are you surprised how big her tits are?'

Mathilde scolded Maren in German. Kathrin rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air, her breasts thumping into one another. 'Yes, yes, I have big tits, ha ha,' she said,more bored than annoyed. 'Now you've all seen them, we can forget about it and move on.'

Uschi gave Roger a meaningful look. Roger decided for certain that he would never forget Kathrin's naked breasts for as long as he lived. Yet the girls were right. This casual everyday nudity was indeed robbing the women of a great deal of their sexual mystique.

'You have a fantastic figure, Kathrin,' said Uschi diplomatically. 'I'm surprised how curvy you are, your breasts are very beautiful.'

Kathrin looked down at her chest. 'I dress it down in the office in London. The unhealthy body culture in Britain means that I get too many dirty remarks and come-ons if I don't hide my bosom.''

'But now we've all seen your boobs we know the real Kathrin,' said Uschi.

'And now we've all seen Roger's penis we know the real Roger,' said Maren. Roger felt four pairs of eyes on his manhood which still lolled sleepily between his thighs, hanging off the edge of the bench. Again, Roger caught Kathrin staring a little too long.

'We certainly do,' smiled Uschi.

Maren turned to go back to her vantage point in the corner and in doing so allowed her rounded breasts to squirm against Roger's arm. His bench now free again, Roger decided to follow Ralf's lead and lie down on his back. His dick flopped onto his left thigh, which he worried looked ridiculous, but he dared not readjust it by hand lest the manual stimulation set him off. He had done a good job thus far in not letting the breast chat set him off, but he was beginning to feel his libido returning. Lying on his back at least removed the temptation to gaze lustfully at the uniquely perfect pairs of breasts that sweated and quivered around him. He tried to shut out the conversation that arose concerning the physical similarities between Uschi and Mathilde's breasts, and an animated debate over pubic hair trimming regimes. In the sweltering heat his mind wandered though, and he found himself replaying over and over the moment where Kathrin had bumped into him and they had felt their genitals nudge into one another. He allowed his imagination to dwell on how firm her huge breasts had felt. The titwank from Uschi had been glorious, but the same treatment from Kathrin... He imagined those suckable nipples prodding into his hips while his hungry erection disappeared into her vice-like cleavage...

'Oh mein Gott! Roger!'

Roger snapped out of his steamy daydream. 'Shit,' he muttered. The glistening eye of his helmet stared up over him, the shaft fully, obscenely erect, towering over his stomach at a sixty degree angle. He was seconds away from blowing his load. Maren was cackling with filthy glee. A towel, thrown by Uschi, flew over his stomach creating a big tent beneath which his erection throbbed and ached. 'I'm... I'm so sorry,' spluttered Roger, sitting up and repositioning the towel to preserve what little modesty he had left.

'It's perfectly natural for your first time, Roger,' said Kathrin, loosening up and laughing at last.

Still apologising endlessly, Roger stumbled out of the steam room and into a cold shower that did nothing to deter the erection that raged from his groin.

Uschi came out, too. 'Oh Roger,' she sighed. 'At least we tried.'

'I've never been so embarrassed,' he wailed quietly.

'Roger, all they're talking about is how big your dick is. You've nothing to be embarrassed about whatsoever. Kathrin just said it's the biggest one she's ever seen!'

Roger's priapism surged in agony at this revelation. 'That doesn't help.'

He darted to the changing room and dried off and dressed as quickly as he could, his erection causing considerable problems in doing so. Uschi sat, still nude, and watched him. The other girls followed, Roger avoiding looking at them as he made for the exit.

Just as he was leaving, Ralf emerged from the showers. 'I fell asleep,' said Ralf. 'Did I miss anything?'

Torpius said:

Uschi Ch. 04

bylctf©

Serendipity elected the next team member for Uschi to work on in her campaign to demystify her colleagues' breasts in the mind of leering middle-manager Roger Addington when her fellow German colleague Kathrin Fischer was summoned alongside the two of them to three days of training at Frankfurt headquarters.

'OK, so we have a few options,' Uschi said to Roger in a quiet corner of the London office canteen the day before departure.

'Enlighten me,' said Roger, picking glumly at a microwave lasagna. The now-familiar feeling of lust and dread which prefigured one of Uschi's schemes engulfed him. He'd never be able to look surreptitiously at Alice or Sarah's breasts again. It was the creative part of his sexual fantasy that drove his libido and kept it in perfect equilibrium. He now acknowledged that, and he knew that Uschi knew him all too well.

'There's a lingerie store in the Terminal 5 departures lounge. We could persuade Kathrin to get fitted there, you could overhear it... I don't know.' Uschi wrinkled her nose and dismissed her own idea straight away with the wave of a teaspoon. Some Greek yoghurt flew from it in the process and spattered lightly between the top two open buttons of her dark blouse and onto an exposed upper slope of breast. She left it there, the creamy white substance in striking contrast to her olive-gold Bavarian skin, and smiled at the attention it drew from Roger, who stopped mid-mouthful to gaze with unconcealed desire at the sight which so vividly (but far less copiously) recalled the decorative ejaculatory compliment with which his grateful regenerative organs had so jubilantly festooned those very same breasts in recent memory. 'You may stare, Roger, we have no secrets now. But perhaps not here.'

Roger cleared his throat, returned his attention to food and conversation, and chipped in an idea of his own. 'We could fix it so that you and Kathrin share a hotel room in Frankfurt, then you go through her things, find out her bra size and tell me?'

'We could, yes, but I could find out all the girls' bra sizes very easily myself and just tell you, but that would defeat the purpose. To cure you I need you to purge fully, and nothing makes you cum harder than the thrill of finding out for yourself. Rummaging through our underwear to read our bra labels, before finally seeing our big bare bosoms in the flesh. That's what I need to organise, just a little help to create these voyeuristic circumstances.'

The two sat in silent contemplation for a moment, then Uschi looked up again, a twinkle in her dark eyes and a smile spreading slowly across her plump lips. 'I have an idea.'

At Heathrow departures, Roger spotted Uschi and Kathrin checking in their suitcases and made his way to the back of the queue with his own, giving the two colleagues a wave as they milled about with their boarding passes. Roger glanced at Uschi's bust as it wobbled in a manner more animated than was customary beneath her pale blue blouse, and realised she had put her plan into effect.

'Hey Roger,' Uschi said, her unsteadily protruding chest leading the way toward him, Kathrin following a few steps behind. When they got closer, Uschi lowered her voice so as not to be overheard by the others in the queue in front of Roger. 'So, what do you think? Too obvious?'

'Is what too obvious?' Roger wasn't sure what he was meant to say.

'My chest without a bra,' Uschi elaborated quietly. 'I'm following the new flight safety regulations, but I'm worried my boobs bounce too much. But if you didn't notice, then I guess I needn't be worried. Don't want to be causing car crashes or poking people's eyes out!'

'What are you talking about?' said Kathrin in confusion. 'You're not wearing a bra?' She looked down and concentrated her attention on Uschi's chest. Uschi gave a little jiggle and Kathrin gasped.

Roger, meanwhile, was stiffening painfully already in his suit trousers. He had never seen Uschi braless before, and was awestruck by how high and shapely her chest remained when unsupported. It was the way he most liked to let himself get turned on, a bit of sustained, unresolved tease.

Kathrin was still confused. 'What is this about flight safety regulations? You're taking your bra off to fly?'

'Haven't you heard?' Uschi went very serious. 'They have banned bras in the cabin on international flights. It's the underwiring. I've put my bras in my hold luggage, didn't you?'

Kathrin turned to Roger, who nodded sombrely confirming Uschi's absurd lie. 'But I've already checked my bag in,' said the flustered Kathrin, running a tense hand through her light brunette curls.

'And you're still wearing your bra?' said Uschi.

'Of course I am!' Kathrin snapped under her breath. 'Now what am I going to do.'

'Don't panic Kathrin,' smiled Uschi. 'Roger hasn't checked his case in yet. Go to the ladies' toilets, take your bra off, and we'll put it in Roger's suitcase so he can check it in as hold luggage.'

Red-faced, Kathrin considered her options for a moment, then went to the ladies' as suggested.

'I can't believe she went for it,' said Roger.

Uschi gave a wink. 'I knew she would,' she said. 'She's so serious and worried about everything.'

'She'll find out though, surely?'

'When she does it will be too late. I'll just say I made a mistake.' She gave a cruel giggle.

Kathrin approached again. Roger and Uschi stared. The bra she had been wearing, indeed every bra she wore, must have been a minimizer. Free of the constraint, Kathrin's breasts were outrageous heavy-bottomed cone shapes, and her unfortunate choice of a thin beige merino sweater left very little to the imagination. Her pointy, impressively substantial breasts waggled up and down, side to side, and the outline of thick, swollen nipples was alarmingly evident. They stood out like chess pieces under her tight top. 'I look obscene,' she said. 'Everyone is looking.'

'We're in this together,' said Uschi. 'It's just till we get airside.'

'I wear a bra to hide these things,' said Kathrin, folding her arms over her conical breasts, distraught. 'I look like a porn star if I don't wear one.' Roger opened his case and politely looked away as Kathrin placed the discreetly folded-up brassiere in with his clothes.

In the security queue, Kathrin raised an eyebrow. 'These women are all wearing bras,' she observed, gesturing subtly to the well-contained breasts that surrounded them.

'Hey, you're right,' said Uschi, and laughed. 'Oops! I must have made a mistake!'

'Great!' fumed Kathrin. 'I've never been so embarrassed.'

'I've got to go braless too,' shrugged Uschi. 'If that's any consolation.'

'You can afford to,' simmered Kathrin. 'Your tits look exactly the same without. Mine are...'

'Very impressive,' winked Uschi. Kathrin turned away and fumed in silence.

Once through security, Kathrin made a bust-jouncing beeline for the La Senza lingerie store in the departures lounge, declining Uschi's opportunistic offer of accompaniment.

While Kathrin shopped, Uschi and Roger sat in a coffee outlet.

'Those tits!' marveled Uschi in a strained whisper. 'Did you see them!'

'Extraordinary,' breathed Roger, too erect for words. 'That's why her breasts always seemed to change size. It was all the different bras she used to hide those things.'

'I bet you can't wait to find out what size that bra is,' Uschi said. 'I'm pretty curious myself. It must be industrial strength, the way it manages to strap those titties down. How can someone so thin have boobs so big! And so pointy! And those nipples, so thick and swollen.'

Roger wondered who was more obsessed here, such was Uschi's enthusiasm for her colleague's unexpectedly copious bustline.

Kathrin approached. Presumably La Senza didn't stock minimizer bras, because although they were now less obscenely rampant beneath her sweater and the pointed protuberance modestly rounded off, her breasts were still notably larger than Roger and Uschi were used to seeing. They looked the same size as Vanessa's, thought Roger, their dimensions similarly offset and exaggerated by the young woman's otherwise svelte physique.

'Kathrin, I'm so sorry about the mix-up. Did you find something you liked?' Uschi said.

'There wasn't much choice,' frowned Kathrin as she slumped in a chair next to them. 'Not in my size.'

Roger was in heaven. The revelation of Kathrin's hitherto unknown bosominess made her seem like an entirely new person, an extra team member in an already very large-busted line-up of women.

Landing at Frankfurt airport, Kathrin was still in a sour mood and in her sulking haste to get to the hotel and check in she made no mention of the bra that was still in Roger's suitcase. Once in his hotel room, Roger took off his shoes and tie and was mentally preparing himself for getting that bra in his lascivious hands when there was a knock at the door.

It was Uschi, who pushed past him and surveyed the room. 'You have a better view than I do,' she said, looking out the window at the cityscape.

'I certainly do,' said Roger, opening his suitcase to reveal Kathrin's bra and licking his lips. 'Did you want to see it, too?'

Uschi span to face him, her still braless breasts swaying to attention with a sprightly jiggle. 'I'm here to make sure you completely drain yourself. I don't want you prolonging the moment any longer than necessary.'

By now completely void of inhibitions in front of his colleague, Roger unbuckled his belt, zipped open his fly, and carefully took Kathrin's bra from the suitcase. He then unfolded it and laid it out on the bed. It was a Triumph minimiser in pale blue. He extracted his fiercely pulsating erection, letting it protrude over the edge of the bed, and with trembling fingers turned over the bra label to read it.

'Fucking hell,' he murmured. 'Thirty-two H.'

'Oh my, Roger,' gasped Uschi. 'You must want to cum so hard now!'

Leaving his erection untouched, Roger moved the bra out of ejaculation range and stared at it, his heart pounding with arousal. Precum trickled from the eye of his penis in a steady stream onto the bedspread as he lost himself in the sight of the H-cup contraption that Uschi had so cunningly procured for him.

Uschi put her hands on her hips in impatience. 'How long are you going to stand there for?'

'As long as it takes,' said Roger in groggy bra-besotted limbo.

'This isn't meant to be fun, Roger,' said Uschi. 'We're supposed to be curing you.' She exhaled loudly, rolled her eyes, then strode over to stand next to him. 'Let's get this over with.' And with that, she took Roger's thick erection in her soft hand and gave it three brisk, efficient tugs.

Roger babbled incoherently as his penis immediately responded by launching the contents of his testicles into the air, several ropes of thick white semen sailing the width of the bed. Seeing that he was still very much erect, Uschi stared at the ceiling and, switching hands, resumed her masturbatory ministrations to coax several more ejaculations from Roger, each load diminishing in force, volume, and opacity, until he finally spurted a thin watery teaspoonful a few inches into the air and staggered backwards. Uschi went to the bathroom to wash her hands while Roger fell, panting, into the armchair by the window.

A knock at the door, just as Uschi emerged from the bathroom drying her hands. She looked through the bullseye in the door and turned in excitement to Roger. 'It's Kathrin!' she whispered hoarsely.

Roger, semi-erection still lolling stickily from thigh to thigh, rose frantically from the chair, stumbling as his trousers tangled around his knees. 'One moment!' he called, then quietly to Uschi: 'Hide in the bathroom.' While Uschi tiptoed, sniggering, back behind the bathroom door, Roger first carefully folded Kathrin's huge bra, stuffing it inside his suitcase and zipping it shut, then similarly stuffed his penis back into his boxers and fastened his belt and trousers.

'Oh, Kathrin, it's you,' he smiled as casually as possible when he opened the hotel room door. 'Come in.'

Kathrin followed him into the room. 'Nice view,' she remarked. Her impressive bust was well-contained and immobile yet nevertheless poorly underplayed by the new bra she had bought at the airport, her thin beige sweater clearly not accustomed to the extra strain placed on its knit. Her thin build made those breasts look almost - but not quite - comical to Roger's hungry eyes, and he felt his lust boil anew.

'What can I do for you?' said Roger.

'You, uh, have something of mine. In your suitcase.'

'Yes, of course,' gabbled Roger. 'Please, I'll let you, um, get it yourself.' Suddenly noticing the long, expansive trails of semen that spanned the white duvet in wild tangles, Roger hastily grabbed the suitcase and placed it away from the bed and onto the sideboard, then turned away while Kathrin unzipped the luggage.

'Got it,' she said. 'Thanks.'

Roger turned to face her again and went to open the hotel room door for her. They made arrangements to meet for a taxi to the office in the morning, and wished each other a good night. Roger watched her saunter down the corridor, her posture awkwardly overcompensating for the unwelcome front-loaded shift in her usual centre of gravity, her trim backside gyrating pleasantly in jeans.

He knocked on the bathroom door. 'She's gone,' he muttered.

Uschi re-emerged, grinning, and proffered a high-five, which Roger returned with inexperienced ineptitude. 'Thirty-two H!' she squealed. 'Another mission accomplished. I'm going to go to my room and take a bath.' She saw the hopeful glint in his eye. 'And you're staying here, much as I'm sure you'd like to watch. These braless wonders are staying under wraps for now. You can stay here and have a long quiet wank on your own. After all, that's what you like most.'

Roger contemplated his still-tender groin. 'To be honest, I'm not sure I can,' he said.

'And that's the idea,' said Uschi soberly. 'Like I said. Mission accomplished.'

But Uschi was wrong, realised Roger an hour later, as - manly energies restored by a club sandwich and a tiny bottle of minibar wine - he lay alone on the king sized hotel bed, his erection as rampantly desperate for release as it had ever been. His curiosity concerning Kathrin's ever-changing vital statistics was sated, but Uschi was forgetting the nipples. There were still the nipples to speculate over, in endless masturbatory fantasies. And, explosively satisfying though it had been to lay eyes on the delicious bare nipples of Alice and Sarah, he clung with greedy hands to the mystery of Kathrin's nipples, those alarmingly thick coat-pegs on their domed areolae mounds, drawing their erratic paths through the air at the extremities of her rubbery, pointed water-balloon breasts, concealed from sight, touch, and taste only by an ill-fitting and cotton-thin beige rollneck. And so it was at nearly 2am, lost in hands-free erotic fantasy, that Roger enjoyed a long overdue orgasm the way he wanted it.

The next morning at breakfast, Kathrin's breasts had once again vanished into discreet, businesslike nowhere. Uschi, too, was back in a sensible bra, but of course in her case the support elevated her luscious breasts to their customary height and size. Roger liked the effect both with and without the bra - as with Kathrin it gave him twice the pair of breasts to contemplate at night. Though this morning Uschi had exchanged her usual form-obscuring loose blouse look for a tight v-neck crop top in white, beneath a black blazer, both of which set off complexion, bustline, and cleavage in the optimum light. Was she wearing a little more makeup too? Her hair looked nice.

The extra effort put in suddenly made sense when the three of them stepped into the open plan office floor in search of the training room. The staff were all strikingly good looking. The men tall and strapping, the women sexy and carefree. At least by London standards. Apart from Roger's hand-picked recruits, the London office employees were a dowdy lot, Roger included. But their Germanic counterparts were on the whole younger, healthier, and a great deal more attractive. Though not necessarily all as busty as Uschi and Kathrin, the girls had an effortless femininity about them. He saw straightaway that Uschi had anticipated the need to raise her game among her fellow teutonic beauties and to thus ensure that her good looks would not be upstaged in the presence of the handsome male colleagues, and that Kathrin, conversely, had seen fit to differentiate herself in the opposite direction with her prim professional demeanour.

Roger's carefully-cultivated low profile within the organisation had seen to it that despite many years of service this was his first time to visit the head office. He barely even spoke a word of the language.

In the training room they were met by the course leader Ralf, a ruggedly good-looking fellow in his thirties, who introduced them to the young interns Maren and Mathilde, neither of whom, Roger noted with hidden pleasure, were lacking in the bosom department. Maren didn't look much older than eighteen or nineteen. She was petite with gently rounded hips, deep red hair cut into a floppy boyish bob, but there was nothing boyish about her chest. Two generous shapely handfuls of bosom quivered with youthful impertinence beneath a grey blouse as she shook Roger's hand, a smile on her pretty face. Mathilde, dark-haired and dusky like Uschi, appeared not even to be wearing a bra, so merrily did her own breasts, similar in size and shape to Maren's, jiggle under her green sweater in time with the handshake. She looked a little older than Maren, maybe twenty-one.

Roger sensed an unease in Uschi when she caught his eye. She knew he was thinking about these two fresh pairs of fantasy material, and that after a full day in a room with them his imagination would be working overtime. But her flirtatious desire for lantern-jawed alpha male Ralf was evident, and so now, perhaps, the tables were turned. As the training day dragged on and Roger, struggling to follow the largely German-language presentation, lost himself in idle daydreaming about his two young new fantasy objects, it was clear that Uschi herself - pouting, flicking her hair, crossing and uncrossing her shapely legs for handsome Ralf's benefit - was not above nurturing a healthy sexual imagination herself.

But Ralf appeared oblivious, and in any case, Roger was long past getting jealous of other men. He didn't consider himself attractive. He wasn't fat, but he was out of shape, and his hair was receding. A lifetime of being ignored by women had taken its toll on his self image, and the fact that he was to all intents and purposes invisible was both the cause and the enabler of his passive sexual existence as a low-level peeping tom. While the girls' eyes were on Ralf, Roger's were free to settle on their bounteous bosoms.

Once the day's training had ended, Roger was looking forward to getting back to the Hilton to relieve the pleasantly aroused state he had been enjoying for the past eight hours, and was packing his briefcase alongside Uschi and Kathrin when the two interns sidled up and, hands behind back and smiling ingratiatingly, asked something in German. Uschi answered them with a shrug and gestured to Roger.

'What is it?' smiled Roger.

Maren took a step toward him. 'You're staying at the Hilton, correct?'

Roger nodded.

'The Hilton has private sauna rooms. They're brilliant, the best sauna in Frankfurt. Whenever there are visitors to the office who are staying there, we like to ask if they can get us access. Mathilde and I love a sauna.'

Mathilde grinned and nodded in enthusiastic confirmation, her seemingly braless chest nodding along briskly.

'Well, I don't know...'

'You approve the expenses, Roger,' said Uschi.



I don't think I can do that,' said Roger.

Maren was not to be dissuaded. 'Your hotel package should include use of the sauna. If you book a private sauna room, we can all use it together, and go as your guests. We should all go as a team! Team bonding!' She called across to Ralf, a couple of desks away, and he gave a thumbs up and replied in German. 'Ralf's in,' she said, instantly perking up the attention of Uschi and Kathrin.

'I suppose,' said Roger with unease. He'd never been in a sauna before. They agreed to meet in the hotel spa reception at 8pm.

When Roger left the office building, Uschi was already outside waiting for a cab.

'Coming back to the hotel Roger?' she said. 'Looking forward to the sauna?'

Roger looked up and down the street. 'I should find somewhere that sells swimming trunks,' he said with a grimace.

Uschi gave one of her long, low laughs. 'Oh Roger. This is Germany. Saunas are nude. And mixed.'

'Th-then...'

'Correct. You and Ralf are going to have your cocks out, and the two interns and Kathrin and I will be baring our tits, asses, and pussies.' Uschi's eyes gleamed filthily, her tongue finding its way lewdly between her white teeth.

'Oh fuck. Oh fuck.'

'Which is why you're coming back to the hotel with me now. We have some preparation to do.'

Uschi shut Roger's hotel room door behind them while he meandered toward the window, head teeming with fear and lust.

'What's going to happen, Uschi? I've never...'

'Roger, in about one hour we're all going to be naked together. Completely, stark naked.'

'Uschi, I'm going to cum. So hard. Right there in front of you all.'

'I know.'

'I haven't even seen your breasts naked and they still made me cum harder than I've ever cum before. And the thought of finally seeing your nipples... and not only that but Kathrin and those two interns... Uschi it's going to be so embarrassing. Just being naked in front of you is going to be embarrassing enough, you'll be comparing me to Ralf. But then it'll get worse, I'll get hard, I'll ejaculate... oh god.'

Uschi placed her rounded bottom on the edge of the bed and patted the duvet next to her, beckoning Roger across to join her. 'First of all Roger, you've nothing to be embarrassed about. Your body is a little out of shape, but I don't think you realise quite how big you are... down there.'

Roger looked up. Was she teasing him? He had virtually no frame of reference where other men's genitalia were concerned, and had no concept of whether he was well or poorly endowed. Not that it mattered, anyway. 'What do you mean.'

'You've got a big dick, Roger,' Uschi said flatly. 'Even on the rare occasions when it's not erect, it's pretty impressive. So, however well hung Ralf turns out to be, I'm betting you'll be giving him a run for his money.'

Roger's penis surged at the compliment.

'And secondly, you're not going to cum. Or even get hard.'

'Why not?'

'Because I'm going to make you cum now, as many times as it takes.' Uschi stood, shrugged off her blazer and threw it onto a chair, then kicked off her heels.

Roger's heart raced.

Uschi fingered the hem of her top. 'Now, you're going to see all of our tits pretty much straight away. The changing rooms are mixed. We're all Germans, we're all comfortable with nudity. You need to look like you are, too. Go on, get your cock out.'

As Uschi's top peeled off to reveal a white balconette bra which snugly encased her generous breasts, Roger shuffled out of his trousers. The sight of Uschi's bra added another inch to the already painful erection that tented his underpants. 'Uschi, I'm not going to cope.'

Uschi turned away and, bending over, wriggled out of her skirt. Her plump, perky buttocks strained at skintone lace hotpants. Elastic lace garters around her full thighs held sheer stockings in place. 'You might come in to the changing room and I'm doing this. Or it might be Kathrin standing in her panties. Or maybe one of those eighteen-year-old students just wearing a top, with their pussy and ass already naked. She turned again to face Roger, who in turn was now fumbling with his shirt buttons. He gazed upon her curvaceous, effortlessly lithe figure. Her hair was still tied up in a loose knot, showing off her graceful neck. 'And every time one of us bends over,' Uschi continued, 'You'll get a great view down our cleavage.' She stooped to roll a stocking down, allowing her firm, olive-skinned globes to dangle and jostle in the cups of her brassiere. 'And our jiggling cleavages are going to make you want a titwank.' She rolled down the other stocking. 'And not the kind in a bra, like we did last week. The kind of titwank where both tits are naked, free, and jiggling, motorboating around your hard dick. It's all you're going to be able to think of.'

Roger pulled down his pants and released his ferocious erection with a shudder that coursed through his entire body. Watery fluid was emitting from its tip already, streaming down the underside of his shaft and drenching his ballsack, sticky and cooling in the air-conditioned hotel room atmosphere.

'I know you're a breast man, Roger,' mused Uschi with a raised eyebrow, 'But let's just see what effect a lovely lady's bottom has on you.' She turned her back on him again, and deftly dropped her hotpants to the floor around her feet.

Whether it was her buttocks' vague resemblance to breasts, or whether it was just the sheer perfection of her bottom, Roger's suffering penis spat a spontaneous warning shot of thick ejaculate through the air which hit Uschi in the back.

She yelped in response, then giggled. 'You like my ass?' she asked over her shoulder, and jiggled her buttocks cheekily. 'My boyfriends have always loved it, much more than my boobs. They say it feels nice and soft pressed against their hips when they're taking me from behind. Though none of them ever came in their pants just from looking at it.'

'I'm... I'm sorry,' mumbled Roger dizzily.

'Don't apologise, it's a compliment,' smiled Uschi, spinning to face him. He gazed down between her legs. Her tousled pubic hair was as thick, dark and luxuriant as the hair on her head. 'Besides, we need to empty you as quickly and powerfully as we can. Now: tits. Tits, boobs, jugs, hooters, very shortly you're going to be seeing them all. I was going to wait to show you mine, but circumstances mean you're getting a preview. I'll save the bra size for the end of our project, so you've still got something to wait for.' She fingered the bra's shoulder straps. 'You ready?'

Roger wasn't, but nodded anyway. If he felt absurd standing there in his socks and vest, but neither this nor his genuine fear of suffering a fatal heart attack diminished his overwhelming state of sexual arousal.

'Let's do this,' said Uschi, and in one sweeping motion slipped the elasticated straps down off her shoulders and tugged the bra cups down from her chest allowing both bared breasts to surge forth, wobbling voluptuously.

'Good god,' wheezed Roger as semen flew from his convulsing erection through the air towards Uschi's naked body, pelting her face, arms, stomach, pubis, and of course her luscious quivering breasts and broad, softly swelling skin-tone areolae and nipples. 'They're magnificent.'

'You don't say.' Uschi looked down at her nude, semen-garlanded breasts with pride, then looked past them at Roger's erection which did not appear to be going anywhere. 'Roger, you've got too good at prolonging your orgasms. These hands-free eruptions are impressive and no doubt a pleasurable way for you to pay tribute to a beautiful pair of boobs, but it will never do, not when we're milking you dry.' She shimmied her shoulders, giving her sticky breasts a boisterous wobbling jiggle that caused Roger to moan allowed as his post-ejaculatory erection stiffened in response. Still keeping the shimmy-shake going, she descended gracefully to her knees and shuffled forward until the jostling mounds of feminine beauty collided with Roger's groin, motorboating his turgid iron-bar erection into hitherto uncharted realms of pleasure. This way and that Uschi's careening breasts thumped his organ. Roger, barely capable of analytical thought at this point nevertheless could not fail to marvel at how something as dense and firm as Uschi's luscious bosom could simultaneously be so soft, silken, and yielding. He had titfucked her before, of course, with the counterfeit cum-stain bra holding her assets strictly in place, but it turned out no such assistance was needed, as Uschi's breasts had a naturally tight depth of cleavage and an autonomous inertia that took care of matters all by themselves.

'I've always wanted to try this,' Uschi confided, looking up at Roger while she continued to shimmyfuck his straining erection. 'My boyfriend likes my tits, but not this much. He'll fuck my cleavage, but he always has to finish off by hand, either himself or me wanking him off onto my chest. Now I have the biggest tit-fetishist I've ever met and I can finally use my gifts as nature intended. Lucky me!'

On cue, Roger unloaded once again, Uschi's merrily jostling globes sending semen spraying in all directions. He chanced grabbing her breasts with his feverish hands, and to his relief Uschi did nothing to stop him. Heavenly though the motorboatfuck was, he needed to know what a pair of breasts like hers felt like, and as he mashed them around his still-ejaculating penis he savoured with bliss the sensation of gently sinking his fingertips into their smooth, elastic mass.

'Naughty Roger,' Uschi purred, as the perverted middle-manager kneaded and groped away at her proud womanhood. 'But, whatever gets you off.'

'Bra size,' Roger grunted. 'What size are you? Please.'

'That is still for me to know and for you to find out,' she wagged a finger as Roger's final few deliveries of semen pumped up from between her manhandled breasts. She pointed to a patch of boob still un-jizzed-upon. 'You missed a bit.'

Roger continued to use Uschi's substantial breasts to masturbate his sputtering erection to final, messy completion, then reluctantly relinquished his feverish grip and staggered back, extending a thick curtain of translucent semen between the tip of his penis and Uschi's deep cleavage. 'Christ Uschi,' he wheezed. 'You're incredible.'

'So are you, Roger,' sighed Uschi in exasperation, eyeing his semi-erection as she stood. She gave her ejaculate-decorated bosom an exploratory shimmy, and rolled her eyes as Roger's erection returned, creaking slowly to a forty-five degree angle while his face contorted with pained misery. 'We're running out of time, Roger. I'd hoped after cumming twice you'd be bored of my tits but that clearly isn't the case. And I shudder to think how you react when you see Kathrin's.'

Roger moaned with pleasure at the very thought.

'Exactly. You're half an hour away from seeing them stark naked, along with whatever treasures those two interns are hiding in their blouses. On the bed, quick.'

Uschi ushered Roger from the chair where he'd only just collapsed and pointed to the bed, where he lay down, heart pounding, erection high and twitching. Uschi knelt beside him, back straight, chest out, her slim waist in attractive contrast to her rounded hips and bodacious, pale-nippled bust. And, with scant regard for the raw, sensitive condition of his penis, she grabbed its stiff, engorged bulk and proceeded to administer a brisk handjob.

Roger stared in awe at Uschi's perfectly formed globes as they wobbled in time with her masturbatory activity. The expression on her face was all business as she stroked Roger's rigidity, calmly allowing his gaze to linger, uninhibited, on her ample bare bosom. She noticed that every time she applied an extra shimmy to her breasts, Roger's erection pulsed and swelled beneath her fingers, and so she began to schedule intermittent jiggly boosts to Roger's libido to expedite a climax which surely had to be happening soon. She'd never been with a man who had still been this hard so soon after two orgasms, and, as privately unsure of her own physical attractiveness as anyone would be (even someone with a body like Uschi's), she wondered if Roger might have a serious medical condition that caused this priapic state to persist.

'Roger, close your eyes and imagine Kathrin is doing this to you. Kathrin, with her tits twice the size of mine.' Still masturbating him, she leaned across and jiggled her dense, soft breasts against the tip of his erection. Unsurprisingly, this had the intended effect of pushing him over the edge, and as she sat up again Roger came, relatively weakly, over his own face, chest, and stomach, the final spurts flowing down his shaft onto Uschi's hand.

And, at last, Roger's erection began to wilt and shrivel. Uschi let go and wiped her gunged hand on Roger's hairy thigh. She gave her bosom a final experimental jaunty wiggle. Still Roger's penis withdrew in exhaustion.

'Looks like we've drained you,' said Uschi.

Roger, pale, nodded. He had never orgasmed so powerfully and so many times in such a short period of time.

'Let's shower together, as a final test,' suggested Uschi, hopping from the bed and trotting to the bathroom, bare bust eagerly leading the way.

Roger stumbled after her. He felt like he would never cum again, ever.

The hotel room shower, conveniently, was a spacious wetroom with more than enough capacity for the two unorthodox sexual partners.

Uschi handed Roger one of two bars of soap. 'Wash the spunk from my tits,' she instructed, 'And I'll wash the spunk from your cock and balls. I've never known a man soap up these big boobs and not get hard, especially with my slippery hand on their dick!' And thus she got to work. True enough, though Roger did his best to relish the licence to manhandle Uschi's proud, perky breasts, squeezing them, fondling them, bouncing them up and down and side to side, yet his penis remained flaccid. Uschi ran a soapy hand up and down its floppy length, slapping it wetly this way and that. She massaged his tight, emptied scrotum with her other hand, mashing his genitals into a soapy jumble, but all Roger felt was discomfort and boredom.

'Oh Roger,' pouted Uschi through the raining water in mock-disappointment. 'Is groping my naked soapy bosom not turning you on?'

'Ordinarily, yes,' sighed Roger. 'Could we try again later?'

'Ha, don't you wish we could.' Uschi barked a hollow laugh, letting go of Roger's limp penis and letting it dangle forlornly between his thighs. 'I'm only doing this to make sure you lose interest in me, in all the other girls. This is the last time you get to do this.'

'But your bra size, Uschi, I need to know it.'

Uschi turned off the shower and reached for a huge fluffy white towel. The contrast with her rich, southern European complexion was electrifying. 'Hmm. Well maybe we still need to organise something there. But don't be getting your hopes up, and remember, this isn't for fun.'

Roger's penis was still aching from overexertion when he and Uschi convened with their colleagues at the hotel spa reception. Maren and Mathilde were grinning at the prospect of purloined hotel luxury. Kathrin's bust was still packed tightly away beneath her top, as Roger noted when he stole a glance as she shared a quiet gossipy word with Uschi.

'Thanks for signing us in, Roger.' Ralf's rumbling teutonic tones snapped Roger from his ruminations. The tall German extended a powerful hand of gratitude, crushing Roger's hand with a level of alpha-masculinity his British colleague feebly failed to match.

The receptionist assigned them a large private sauna room for six, and led them through to the spacious communal changing room.

Maren and Mathilde were the first to happily discard their clothes. Mathilde's blouse opened to reveal a black camisole which loosely shrouded an indeed braless pair of medium sized wobbling breasts. She chattered in German while she wriggled her way simultaneously out of her trousers and pink knickers, and placed these along with the blouse on a bench. There were no lockers in the private changing room, so underwear was being tossed about carelessly.

Meanwhile, Maren's top had come off to bare a succulent pair of pink kitten's-nose nipples that had escaped from a too-small floral bra, the cups of which supported her pale grapefruit-sized breasts half-heartedly from where they had retreated beneath. Mathilde laughed and pointed, peeling off her lacy silken undergarment, thus stripping nude in one go. Her breasts were like slightly scaled-down versions of Uschi's, with a curly mop of black pubic hair between her fit thighs to match. Being smaller in size, they were lighter and thus more mobile, wiggling and jiggling as she remarked hysterically upon Maren's errant nipples. Maren too was shrieking with laughter now, and tugged the cups of the bra upwards to hide her nipples, but only succeeded in pulling the entire bra all the way up causing both lusciously round breasts to tumble down under it, bobbing clumsily about. The failed experiment yielded yet more silly laughter.

Ralf rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by this girlish behaviour. Off came his boxers. Roger was surprised to see that, despite Ralf's otherwise Nietzschean physique, he was remarkably poorly endowed in the genital area. It boosted Roger's confidence a little, knowing that if nothing else he had the biggest dick in the room. Ralf ignored the chatter and strolled toward the steam room for some peace. The girls stopped talking briefly to admire his well-formed buttocks.

Roger was down to his underpants himself and grateful to Uschi for the rigorous sexual draining she had performed. Otherwise he would have been very, very hard by now. Uschi herself was already naked again. Roger looked in woozy awe at the supple feminine perfection of her nude body as he folded his vest and placed it onto his shirt. Uschi caught him looking and discreetly shook her head in a scolding manner.

Maren was now naked too, a square of ginger curls remaining to protect her modesty. Her breasts were full and high, larger than Mathilde's but smaller than Uschi's, though with their petite girlish frames both girls appeared bustier than they really were.

Kathrin was still fiddling with her shoelaces, but was already down to her bra, and the mass of breast fighting against the industrial-strength minimiser was a sight to behold. Both breasts had minds of their own and appeared to be consciously and actively attempting to wrench the bra asunder.

'Roger, let's go.' said Uschi.

Roger shrugged his way out of his underpants. He caught Kathrin glance at his penis for slightly too long, then awkwardly caught her eye. She blushed and hastily returned her attention to the knotted shoelace.

Between the changing room and the sauna itself was an anteroom with four showers in open plan. The two of them briefly alone, Uschi took advantage of the noise of the shower to quickly regroup with Roger. 'This is it,' she whispered hoarsely in his ear, her soft jutting breasts sandwiching his arm as water rained down on the two of them for the second time that evening. 'All the bras are just lying there for you to sneak a look at. Kathrin will come in here in a moment, then you head back in there, do whatever you have to do with the bras, then join us again.'

'OK,' said Roger. He backed away from Uschi under another shower head, then looked for the door just as Kathrin walked in, preceded by her bust.

Uschi and Roger's jaws dropped in unison.

Even not wearing her heels, Kathrin was tall, Roger's height. Her waist and hips were boyishly slender, her legs and arms quite thin. All of which made her breasts seem all the more preposterous. Uschi and Roger had had a sneak preview of Kathrin's form and magnitude during Uschi's bralessness caper in the airport, but nothing could have prepared them for the real, naked deal. Each breast was at least the size of Kathrin's head, if not bigger. They drew graceful concave slopes down from her collarbone and two thirds of the way down to her stomach they swooped back up dramatically to heady peaks where thick, gently blushing nipples the size and shape of rubber baby-bottle tops swayed unsteadily with obscenely graphic allure. The firm, dense, heavy-bottomed body of each breast curved generously back round to meet her ribcage, a tiny amount of sag confirming that, yes, she was still human.

With a self-conscious smile, Kathrin stepped under the shower head opposite Roger, and allowed the water to pummel her extraordinary top-heavy body.

Uschi mouthed the words "thirty-two H" at Roger with a wink, whereupon Roger felt a twinge in his groin that prompted him to step out from under his shower towards the doorway back to the changing room. Unfortunately (or fortunately) he did so at the precise moment Kathrin also stepped forward and the two collided into one another. Kathrin's firm, smooth, elastic breasts ballooned rudely into Roger's chest, her proud nipples prodding his own with almost painful ferocity. At the same time, Roger's now slowly thickening manhood nestled itself for the briefest of moments in the brunette-thatched groove between Kathrin's slender thighs. Again, Roger was grateful for the milking Uschi had given his lascivious genitals, for had she not done so his erection would have plunged its way instantaneously up that tight passageway deep into Kathrin. Instead, Kathrin rebounded backwards a little, her breasts careening heavily against one another from the upheaval, and she mumbled an apology with a coy embarrassed smile.

Roger apologised too and stumbled back into the cold air of the changing room, shutting the steamy glass door behind him.

Before him in the empty room, untidy piles of clothes lay on wooden slatted benches and hung from hooks on the wall. Knowing he shouldn't dawdle, he dried his hands on a towel and grabbed Maren's pale blue floral bra, the one that had proven no match for her still-growing breasts, and fumbled for the label. 'Seventy-five D,' he muttered aloud. 'What's that in English.'

'Thirty-four D,' came Uschi's sultry voice from behind. Roger jumped. She had snuck in after him. 'I realised my bra is in here too, so I thought I should supervise you. Also I figured you might need wanking off again after your tussle with Kathrin.'

Roger fondled Maren's bra, held it up to his nose and inhaled its perfumed, breasty scent.

Uschi wandered over to Mathilde's clothes. 'Can't believe that little slut was braless all day. What did you think of her tits?'

'They reminded me of yours, actually,' said Roger.

'I thought the same,' said Uschi. 'Mine looked like that when I was eighteen. I think they're nicer now though, don't you agree?'

Roger looked up from Maren's bra at Uschi, who was striking a pose to accentuate her large, delectable nude bosom. 'Yes Uschi, they are gorgeous. Perfect.'

'Thank-you,' she said with a grin and a cleavage-dangling curtsey. Then she looked up at Roger's penis, which was stirring with new life. 'Is it me, or has your cock grown?'

'I nearly fucked Kathrin by accident,' said Roger. 'As if seeing then feeling those insane H-cups wasn't enough. We're lucky I'm not solidly erect already.'

'Luck has nothing to do with it,' Uschi pointed out. 'You're tactically unturnonable. Now, about Mathilde...' She picked up the intern's shoulder-bag and rummaged through it, then paused, smiled at Roger, and threw something at him across the room. Roger caught it. It was a bra.

'Looks like she keeps one for emergencies,' Uschi winked. 'Read it out.'

Roger found the label. 'Seventy-five C. So that's 34C I guess?'

'Yes, well done, you're catching on!' Uschi squeezed her arms together girlishly, forcing her pliant breasts together in a manner that was decidedly womanly, a cleavage so deep and tight that Roger's penis, stirring ever more, was transported straight back by association to that comfortable tightly-closed gateway to Kathrin's inner sanctum. 'But we haven't much time. One more quick look at Kathrin's bra then sauna?'

All Roger wanted was to put an end to the tortuous mystery of Uschi's own vital statistics, but here she was alone with him, stark naked and a curvaceous vision of orgasmic perfection, so he wasn't about to argue. He threw back Mathilde's cream T-shirt bra which Uschi stowed carefully back in the bag, and then joined her next to Kathrin's pile of clothes, her enormous 32H minimiser contraption spreadeagled atop. So accustomed was Roger now to the feeling of Uschi's sensitive fingers on his member that he didn't even notice at first that, as he stood in silent respect for this marvel of mammarian lingerie, Uschi, standing next to him, had grabbed his penis with a paper tissue in her hand and was wanking him off in her efficient German way. Sure enough, Roger's rekindled lust had returned sufficiently for a modest but serviceable erection to have hardened and extended beyond the span of Uschi's nimble grip. Within seconds he was cumming, weakly and painfully, into the handkerchief which Uschi had slid over the head of his erection just in time.

'Let's join the others,' said Uschi softly. 'They'll be wondering where we are.'

In the pre-sauna shower again, Roger took Uschi's hand. 'Wait, I just want to be doubly sure I'm not going to get hard,' he said. 'Can I touch your breasts please?'

'If you think it will help, sure.'

Roger cupped Uschi's heavy puffy-nippled breasts and sank his fingers gently into them, savouring their soft, fleshy consistency. Uschi reached for Roger's penis and flopped it limply from side to side while he kneaded and caressed her proud bosom.

'I think you're safe,' she said, then yelped a little as Roger's shamelessly groping fingers roamed over her pale, shiny areolae. 'Not the nipples please, Roger,' she breathed. 'They're very, very sensitive to that kind of attention. Like yourself, I don't want to appear too aroused.'

Roger dutifully let go, allowing Uschi's globular breasts to wobble back to their high, bouncy pout. 'Sorry,' he said.

'It feels nice,' insisted Uschi. 'Just not now.'

This curious exchange only served to deepen Roger's confusion as to Uschi's motives in this sexual game she was playing with him. Was she implying that at some future point he might be permitted to continue the nipple play? And where was her supposed boyfriend in all of this? Did he know all of this was going on?

They pushed open the frosted glass door into the steam room.

Once Roger had acclimatised to the initial blast of heat, he looked around. The first thing that struck him was Kathrin, sitting primly facing him, knees together, hands on the bench either side of her, back straight, her sturdy, unaccountably pert H-cups thrusting gigantically forth from her skinny frame, beaded with sweat, her pale baby-bottle nipples staring up and out.

'Where have you two been?' giggled Maren, sitting a level up from Kathrin, her pink nipples bobbing gently atop her soft round breasts as they wobbled.

Uschi lounged on a wooden bench. 'It's Roger's first time in a mixed sauna,' said Uschi. 'I was just explaining to him that there's no reason to be shy.'

Roger was mortified, but had to admit to himself that it was a plausible cover story for what they had really been up to. 'Yes, bit embarrassing really,' grimaced Roger. 'We're not really used to seeing each other naked in the U.K.'

'You're quite conservative as a nation when it comes to your bodies,' said Kathrin. 'I've come to discover this while living in London.'

'Here in Germany we get our tits out all the time,' said Maren, giving her own a liberated shimmy. 'And no-one cares. Look at Ralf. Surrounded by four young naked women with lovely big bosoms, and he doesn't react at all. He's seen it all before, haven't you Ralf?'

Ralf, dozing on his back, his modestly-sized penis flaccid on his muscular stomach, grunted in mild irritation.

Mathilde was lying on her front, head resting on folded arms, her C-cups squeezing out to the sides beneath her. 'I feel bad for Uschi and Kathrin, living in repressed London,' she murmured. 'It must be such a relief for you coming back here to Germany and being free with your bodies again.'

'Absolutely,' said Uschi, her bosom heaving. 'You don't fully know someone until you've been naked with them.'

'So Roger,' said Maren, shuffling over to sit next to where he had sat down and leaning in conspiratorially. 'If you've never had a team sauna back in London, this must be the first time you've seen Kathrin's boobs?'

Kathrin looked across at the young intern with a raised eyebrow.

'Yes, it is,' said Roger, trying not to look at the boobs in question.

'Does it feel strange?' continued the young redhead. 'It's normal for us, but I suppose this must be kind of sexy for you?'

'Um, not really,' said Roger. 'I try not to think of colleagues in that way.'

'Well, are you surprised how big her tits are?'

Mathilde scolded Maren in German. Kathrin rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air, her breasts thumping into one another. 'Yes, yes, I have big tits, ha ha,' she said,more bored than annoyed. 'Now you've all seen them, we can forget about it and move on.'

Uschi gave Roger a meaningful look. Roger decided for certain that he would never forget Kathrin's naked breasts for as long as he lived. Yet the girls were right. This casual everyday nudity was indeed robbing the women of a great deal of their sexual mystique.

'You have a fantastic figure, Kathrin,' said Uschi diplomatically. 'I'm surprised how curvy you are, your breasts are very beautiful.'

Kathrin looked down at her chest. 'I dress it down in the office in London. The unhealthy body culture in Britain means that I get too many dirty remarks and come-ons if I don't hide my bosom.''

'But now we've all seen your boobs we know the real Kathrin,' said Uschi.

'And now we've all seen Roger's penis we know the real Roger,' said Maren. Roger felt four pairs of eyes on his manhood which still lolled sleepily between his thighs, hanging off the edge of the bench. Again, Roger caught Kathrin staring a little too long.

'We certainly do,' smiled Uschi.

Maren turned to go back to her vantage point in the corner and in doing so allowed her rounded breasts to squirm against Roger's arm. His bench now free again, Roger decided to follow Ralf's lead and lie down on his back. His dick flopped onto his left thigh, which he worried looked ridiculous, but he dared not readjust it by hand lest the manual stimulation set him off. He had done a good job thus far in not letting the breast chat set him off, but he was beginning to feel his libido returning. Lying on his back at least removed the temptation to gaze lustfully at the uniquely perfect pairs of breasts that sweated and quivered around him. He tried to shut out the conversation that arose concerning the physical similarities between Uschi and Mathilde's breasts, and an animated debate over pubic hair trimming regimes. In the sweltering heat his mind wandered though, and he found himself replaying over and over the moment where Kathrin had bumped into him and they had felt their genitals nudge into one another. He allowed his imagination to dwell on how firm her huge breasts had felt. The titwank from Uschi had been glorious, but the same treatment from Kathrin... He imagined those suckable nipples prodding into his hips while his hungry erection disappeared into her vice-like cleavage...

'Oh mein Gott! Roger!'

Roger snapped out of his steamy daydream. 'Shit,' he muttered. The glistening eye of his helmet stared up over him, the shaft fully, obscenely erect, towering over his stomach at a sixty degree angle. He was seconds away from blowing his load. Maren was cackling with filthy glee. A towel, thrown by Uschi, flew over his stomach creating a big tent beneath which his erection throbbed and ached. 'I'm... I'm so sorry,' spluttered Roger, sitting up and repositioning the towel to preserve what little modesty he had left.

'It's perfectly natural for your first time, Roger,' said Kathrin, loosening up and laughing at last.

Still apologising endlessly, Roger stumbled out of the steam room and into a cold shower that did nothing to deter the erection that raged from his groin.

Uschi came out, too. 'Oh Roger,' she sighed. 'At least we tried.'

'I've never been so embarrassed,' he wailed quietly.

'Roger, all they're talking about is how big your dick is. You've nothing to be embarrassed about whatsoever. Kathrin just said it's the biggest one she's ever seen!'

Roger's priapism surged in agony at this revelation. 'That doesn't help.'

He darted to the changing room and dried off and dressed as quickly as he could, his erection causing considerable problems in doing so. Uschi sat, still nude, and watched him. The other girls followed, Roger avoiding looking at them as he made for the exit.

Just as he was leaving, Ralf emerged from the showers. 'I fell asleep,' said Ralf. 'Did I miss anything?'

Click to expand...

Aching for ch. 5

Of course, my bad, actually I've made a mistake when I copied the novel, I seem to have missed chapter 5, but I give you chapter 6 and seven....I someone have copied the missing chapter I'd be really happy....

...

Uschi Ch. 06

bylctf©

'Tell me everything,' insisted Uschi with a filthy grin, palms flat on the meeting room table. She had got Roger alone under the pretext of planning a presentation to the accounts department.

'You put her up to this, didn't you?'

'Moi?' Uschi pouted and placed an innocent hand on her lush bosom. 'So, perhaps I let slip about the size of your equipment, but how can I help it if Susan turns out to be as obsessed with big cocks as you are with big titties?'

'I see. So you're trying to "cure" her, too?' Roger tried not to raise his voice in anger. 'Now, this remains strictly between us, got it? She ended up blind drunk, dragging me back to her flat, taking off my clothes supposedly to dry them, then stripping half naked herself. She tricked me into groping her bare breasts...'

'Oh Roger, you poor thing, that must have been terrible,' Uschi deadpanned. 'How did she do that?'

Roger waved a dismissive hand. 'It was absurd, the kind of scheme you would have cooked up. Made me hold her breasts to make it easier for her to open her corset bustier thing.'

'That old trick.'

'Told me she was wearing something underneath, which of course she wasn't, and before I knew it my hands were all over her bare breasts. Or more accurately, her bare breasts were all over my hands.'

'So you had a good feel, excellent,' smiled Uschi. 'How about the nipples?'

Roger sighed. 'Well, between us, that's where I got a bit carried away. They were so chunky I couldn't resist rolling them in my fingers and sucking them.'

'You sucked Susan's nipples?'

'Keep your voice down.'

'I'm starting to feel a little jealous, Roger.' Uschi slid a hand under her silk blouse and toyed with the shoulder strap of her bra. 'Where was my nipple-love in Frankfurt?'

'Anyway, the nipple play was too much for her --'

'Now I'm really jealous!'

'-- and when she went to freshen up, I looked in her underwear drawer and got her bra size.'

Uschi built up a drumroll on the table with her fingers.

'Forty F,' said Roger.

'Fuck yeah,' Uschi clapped her hands together. 'Respect. That's a big pair of titties. You must have cum good and hard.'

'Right there on the spot. Then I went home.'

'That explains why Susan is so grumpy today. I thought it was just a hangover. You can't leave a girl hanging like that. If you ever had your way with my nipples without giving me a damn good fucking afterwards then you'd be in big trouble, Roger.'

'Noted.'

'You're thinking about my nipples now, aren't you?'

'Yes.'

'Are you getting hard?'

'Yes.'

Uschi rolled her eyes, then unbuttoned her blouse with brisk efficiency and tugged down the black cups of her bra until her generous olive breasts tumbled out, the nubs of her nipples still soft atop the wide, swollen mounds of her flesh tone areolae.

'Uschi!'

'They're just tits, Roger. You have to get used to them. Take a good, long look.'

Roger stared with bittersweet longing at Uschi's uplifted breasts, a deep cleavage where the bra was holding them together from beneath. They weren't just tits, he thought. Far from it. They were something else altogether, something superhuman and miraculous.

'Imagine if I were to walk around like this all the time.' Uschi stood and paraded up and down the room, her bare breasts jutting, nude and wobbly, from bra and blouse. 'Yes, for a while you'd be looking at my tits all the time, your cock like steel, cumming in your pants every five minutes. Eventually you'd get used to it.'

'Uschi, I can't take this. My cock and balls can't take it.'

'If it were up to me, the whole team would work topless. And you'd be bottomless. We girls all with our big tits out, bouncing freely in front of you, and you with your cock out so we could monitor your arousal levels.' Uschi swung her hips and wiggled her breasts at Roger, causing them to spill out of her clothes still further. 'Clothes just seem to make you worse.'

'But Uschi,' said Roger, 'This is going to backfire on you, because the more accustomed I become to seeing your breasts, the more I want to touch them. You're not curing me, Uschi; you're just turning me into a bigger pervert, dammit!'

Uschi tugged her bra back up, letting her attractive breasts plop one after the other back down into the capacious cups. 'So you're saying you want to grope Alice, Sarah, Susan, and Kathrin, too, now you've seen their tits?'

'I... I don't know. I guess I'm over them, now I know what their breasts look like.'

'Are you over me?'

'No, Uschi, no. But the reason I can't masturbate thinking about you is that all I can think about is cumming in between those tits of yours, or even what it might be like to f-f...'

'Fuck me?'

'Yes. Sorry, but that's the truth. All that keeps me going at night now are my fantasies about Selina and Vanessa. And I know you're thinking of ways to spoil that, too.'

Uschi sat down next to Roger and placed her hand on his. 'Yes, we're going to get Selina and Vanessa topless for you soon, and we'll get their bra sizes for your spreadsheet. And then you can finally find out my bra size, and finally, Roger,' Uschi leaned in closer so her bust pressed against his arm, 'Finally you can fuck me. Over and over again. Cum inside me, all over me, fuck my tits, as often as it takes for you to finally get over me, all of us, so we can all finally get on with our lives.'

She stood and left Roger with that thought, closing the meeting room door behind her.

Roger lay awake in bed that night, his erection kept half-heartedly aloft by thoughts of Vanessa and Selina's ample, clothed bosoms, and the teasing glimpses he had had of both in the time they'd worked for him. Uschi's words, half promise, half threat, turned over in his mind. His obsession with her ran much, much deeper than with the others, whom he still considered little more than busty decoration. He finally went to sleep without ejaculating, and awoke with an infuriatingly permanent erection that he ended up having to hold in place with his belt, using the biggest kipper tie he could find to conceal the long, throbbing bulge under his shirt.

At work, Selina notified him that the team was going to need to take an afternoon off for International Women's Day the following week. 'Roger, I was wondering if you might like to chair one of the sessions." Selina asked, her alarming twin torpedo-breasts jutting above her still-flat stomach and aiming above his head as she stood next to where he sat at his desk. 'You're the only manager, male or female, with an all-female team under you, and that gives you a unique perspective on women in the workplace.'

Roger caught Uschi's eye, then looked quickly away again.

'Certainly, Selina,' he smiled. 'Which session is it you'd like me to chair?'

'The one on dressing appropriately to your figure in the workplace. We have a lingerie expert and some models coming in; we just need you to chair the proceedings, read some things from a script I'm writing. It was Uschi's suggestion that you do it, and I agree with her that some gender inclusivity would be good for the event. Okay?' Selina's chest swung round and she returned to her desk.

Uschi wagged her eyebrows. Roger had the familiar sinking feeling that wheels were being set in motion.

Susan, meanwhile, was giving him something of the cold shoulder. He had wondered whether he should say something, anything, apologise for running off the way he had. But he also wondered whether Susan, as drunk as she had been, perhaps had no recollection of their near-nude tussle, and if he simply didn't bring it up (and he prayed that Uschi wouldn't break confidence) then Susan might write the whole episode off as a strange dream. As it stood, her communication with him was now kept to a minimum, limited to sober, perfunctory, work-related exchanges. Her tops and dresses were as low-cut as ever, but somehow Roger couldn't bring himself to steal his usual furtive glances any more, as her breasts now just reminded him of the awkward, embarrassing encounter in her apartment, and he would rather simply pretend it hadn't happened.

He thought back to Uschi's notion of the whole team coming to work topless, and wondered if he would ever reach a state where big, bouncing breasts didn't arouse him to the point of touchless orgasm. He didn't want to live in a world where the outward sexual characteristics of the female sex were entirely demystified. If a bared bosom lost its allure, how would men get aroused enough to perform intercourse? Sex would be reduced to an animal instinct! Where would the fun be, the beauty, the tease, the desire, the endless sense of unresolved tension? It was all Roger lived for. Deep down he knew he was different, that most people lived more conventional sexual existences, but he pitied them the same way Uschi seemed to pity him.

He tried to picture the nudist-office scene, and given his familiarity with most of the breasts in the office, found it much too easy. In his mind's eye, Kathrin's firm, puffy-peaked H-cups tore their strident way through minimiser bra and blouse to protrude and sway extravagantly as she walked to her desk from the photocopier. When she stopped to look at her watch, Roger imagined she was stopping to give him a better view, encouraging him to drink in the healing sight of her heavenly nude form, smiling with pride as his throbbing member ejaculated one step closer to curing him of his obsession for good.

He pictured Sarah O'Reilly's round, softly pink-nippled boobs emerging from her tube top, this time not as the result of some contrived wardrobe malfunction, but offered with a smile of generosity and a sly wink as she jiggled them free in willing dedication to Uschi's cause. She knelt to tie her shoelace, and observing her heavy Irish boobs as they swung and wobbled, Roger fantasised himself lying beneath her, his cockhead filling her jostling cleavage with yet more thick, liquid salvation.

And Alice, having already behaved so flirtatiously with him prior to Susan's birthday drinks, would, in this fantasy scenario, have no problem disrobing for his benefit, a saucy giggle every time an "accidental" shimmy of her ample, naked, dark-nubbed jugs purged his aching testicles of yet more unhealthy desire. 'Oops,' she would say, 'Sorry Roger, you came so hard over my big bare boobies during the team meeting, I thought I could get away with giving them a jiggle now without making you cum again, but it looks like there's still gallons of the stuff left in there. Back to the drawing board!' And she would think up more ways to stimulate him closer and closer to the spunky eruption that would end his tit-fetish for good.

But whereas this line of thought would in the past have provided him with days' worth of happy speculation as to the naked reality of his team's busty assets, he barely had to use his imagination at all, as their naked breasts, nipples, and bra sizes were now indelibly etched in his memory. In fact, the more he looked at the girls, the more his imagination was stripping them topless whether he wanted it or not. Uschi had provided him with the X-ray specs he had always dreamed of, but now that he had them, the prosaic reality of the human body was setting in. He still needed to cum, but it was far too much, far too soon.

'Uschi, a word in private please?'

Alone in the meeting room with Uschi, Roger ran a frantic hand through his thin, greasy, greying hair. 'I need to cum, Uschi,' he panted in wild-eyed, bulging-trousered desperation. 'Immediately.'

'Excellent,' said Uschi, unbuttoning her blouse in preparation. Her globular breasts were quaking in natural exuberance within the black cups of her balconette. 'This is good progress. You should cum here at work rather than waiting until later. You've been picturing us all naked, haven't you? All of us bosomy young women going about our jobs with our firm titties on display?'

'How did you know?' Roger shuffled off his belt and trousers then began the delicate operation of disentangling his painfully bent erection from his underpants.

'I could tell by your eyes,' said Uschi. The cups of her bra fell away just in time for Roger's backlog of opaque white seed to pelt her quivering young bosom, swollen areolae, slender neck, and athletic stomach in a swift series of ball-draining blasts from where he stood a few feet away.

'Christ,' Roger wheezed.

'Let it all go, Roger,' said Uschi with serenity, giving her proud, olive-hued, cum-slick mammaries a shimmy of encouragement. 'All that cum is better out than in. You shouldn't be bottling it up to let it out at night on your own. It should be filling up cunts, mouths, and cleavages, or sprayed over bosoms, bottoms and faces.'

Roger gripped the table as his long, thick, still untouched cock spat out a couple more strands of jism onto the carpet tiles. 'Thank-you, Uschi,' he managed to say, taking in the overwhelming sight of his voluminous white load quivering in thick dollops and strands all over Uschi's exquisite upper body. 'I needed that.'

'More than you know,' said Uschi sagely. 'Now, Roger darling, clean all this jizz off my tits so I can get dressed before someone comes in.'

***

'Are you sure you wouldn't rather a woman run this session, Selina?' International Women's Day had arrived, and Roger was flipping through the cue cards Selina had put together, most of which, inevitably, concerned advice on dressing to hide large bustlines when in a workplace environment.

'Nonsense,' said Selina. 'It will be fun. Uschi insisted you're the right man for the job, and she's right, we need a senior male figure on hand to give reassurance that the issues women face have been taken on board by the male-dominated management.'

Roger looked at the agenda for his session again. Models had been booked to demonstrate appropriate and inappropriate clothes, a professional bra fitter would be giving advice, and Roger was going to have to host the whole thing, provide commentary from Selina's breast-heavy script, and moderate the Q&A. The very thought of all this terrified and aroused Roger in equal measure, to the point where he felt very close to summoning Uschi for emergency relief all over her breasts. But it was only just gone 9am and he didn't want to give his Bavarian torturess the satisfaction. Instead he managed to rein in his ejaculatory urges, even seeing the words breasts, bosom, and bust in Selina's neat handwriting so many times on the cards.

The team headed to the company auditorium on the third floor. While the rest of the team went to find seats among the throng of fellow businesswomen, Selina tapped Roger's arm and led him towards the door of an adjacent conference room.

'This is the backstage area we've organised for the presenters,' she explained before opening the door. 'It's also where the models are getting changed, but they're professionals so I'm sure they won't mind you being in there, too.'

Before Roger could respond, Selina opened the door and ushered him inside. A tubular clothing rack stood in the centre of the room, from which hung numerous female outfits and countless, sizeable brassieres. Around the room, mirrors were on tables, leaning against the walls, and in front of them sat the models in various states of undress. Roger's mouth dried up, and he felt the thickening of his penis weigh him down, dulling his mind as the blood rushed from his head to his groin.

A tall, skinny brunette model bounded past in just her knickers, holding her enormous bosom to stop it bouncing, and flashing Roger a big smile in passing. Roger's cock erected itself through the hole in his left trouser pocket, its swollen head pushing against handkerchief and the hand that was tactically put there to meet it. It was as though Uschi's vision of the topless workplace had come true.

'Got rather a lot up top, hasn't she?' murmured Selina to Roger, giving him a cheeky nudge.

'That's the idea, though, isn't it?'

'Oh of course, anything less than a D-cup and we'd be asking the agency for our money back.'

'Agency?'

'An agency that specialises in large-breasted models. Perfect for the business-attire demonstration we're giving, and a great way to give some work to models who are too large-bosomed for fashion work and too, well, too moral for, you know... I think the polite term is "glamour" work.'

'A very noble gesture,' opined Roger, watching as the model, her back to him, let go of her breasts. The swaying globes were so big they were visible either side of her slim back. On the other side of the room, a redhead smiled across at them as she shrugged off a floral cotton bra to casually reveal an alabaster-pale freckled pair of globes that were as improbably perky as they were generous in volume.

Selina clicked her tongue, then lowered her voice in an aside to Roger, 'Another redhead stealing my busty thunder.'

Roger couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The wavy copper-haired young model skipped across to them, her small pink nipples dancing atop her stark naked, freely cavorting boobs, and shook Roger and Selina's hands in turn. 'I'm Jemma,' she said, 'One of the models. Thanks so much for booking me, it's my first paid job since the agency signed me up. So excited!'

'My pleasure,' said Selina, as bemused as Roger by the young woman's devil-may-care attitude toward nudity. 'You're certainly amply qualified for the job!'

Jemma gave a quizzical smile, then looked down at the two ample qualifications that swelled with gravity-defying pride before her. 'Oh!' she laughed and slapped one of them, causing it to thump against its counterpart before setting her whole bosom into a Newton's Cradle series of jostling reverberations. 'You mean these! Yes, well if it's clothes for big-bosomed businesswomen you're presenting today, then I'm certainly the big-bosomed girl for the job!'

Roger realised with heart-pounding excitement that he could talk freely about this beautiful young woman's breasts to her face, and chanced his arm. 'What size bra do you wear, Jemma?' he asked with as nonchalant a demeanour as he could muster. Selina eyed him with wry amusement.

'Thirty-two F,' said the topless Jemma, breasts still a wobbly distraction for Roger. 'Though I know they look bigger than that. It's because they stick out so much instead of sagging down.' She used her index fingers to stretch her breasts down to where they might hang on the frame of the average F-cup woman, then released them, causing them to spring back up with sprightly elasticity. 'It's so great to finally be getting work! Bosoms like these are a curse when you're trying to start a modelling career.'

'They're perfect for what we need.' And, thought Roger, perfect in every other respect, too. 'I look forward to seeing your breasts in the various outfits.'

'First time any man has told me he looks forward to seeing them covered up!' said Jemma, then roared with laughter, setting her bouncy bust into a merry dance once more.

'Nice to meet you, Jemma,' said Selina with a curt smile, then ushered Roger across the room where the brunette model was doing her make-up. 'Sorry to interrupt,' said Selina, addressing the model's reflection. 'You must be Shelley.'

Shelley smiled, turned, and stood. She was tall, slightly taller than Roger. Her fringe flopped over her eyes and she blew it away. Meanwhile, the towel she had wrapped herself in unknotted itself and fell away from her back, held up only by the pouting tips of the enormous breasts beneath it. 'Yes, that's me, are you Selina?'

'I am, I'm coordinating the day. Thanks for doing this.'

'My pleasure, always good to be working,' smiled Shelley. 'Especially when these puppies are an asset rather than a drawback!'

Selina indicated Roger. 'This is Roger Addington, he'll be hosting the session where you'll be modelling the various outfits.'



'Pleased to meet you,' said Roger, and shook Shelley's hand. The bust beneath her towel looked immense, worthy of Kathrin.

'We saw Jemma's nipples,' said Selina, 'And given how small and flat they were, I'm assuming you're the girl we're going to be using to illustrate the various ways to deal with big erect ones?'

Shelley nodded. 'I am indeed your big-nippled booking.'

'May we see your nipples?' Roger couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth.

'Yes, certainly,' replied Shelley, and obligingly tugged the towel from the protruding shelf of her bust. Her nipples were size, shape, and colour of pencil erasers, set on the pale, goosebumped mounds of areolae each a couple of inches in diameter. Her breasts themselves were pale, cartoonishly large melons that hung with an attractive amount of sag.

Roger's penis emitted a sticky cry for help in his trouser pocket.

'I can make them more erect than this,' she said, and busied herself tweaking them with nail-lacquered fingertips until the stood out even firmer and thicker. 'You'll see them through anything, even a padded bra,' she said.

'What size bra do you wear?' enquired Roger calmly.

'Thirty K,' said Shelley, prompting another throbbing pre-ejaculation from Roger's crazed erection.

'Natural?' asked Selina, also staring in disbelief at Shelley's prodigious endowments.

'One hundred per cent,' insisted Shelley solemnly. 'Please do have a feel if you'd like to be certain.'

Roger wasted no time in taking Shelley up on this offer, and cupped both Shelley's large breasts in his hands, which suddenly seemed tiny in comparison. Groaning inwardly, Roger hefted each soft, smooth globe, marvelling at how dense and heavy they were. Shelley smiled indulgently as Roger then alternately squeezed them and jiggled them ponderously up and down.

'Satisfied?' asked Shelley.

Roger had rarely been so satisfied in his life. 'Yes, thank-you,' he said, and reluctantly relinquished his grasp on Shelley's heavenly K-cups. He wondered if the imminence with which he was about to cum was as obvious on his face as it felt. Uschi was right that this level of direct, unfiltered, uninhibited exposure to the large breasts effectively cancelled out his need for a private fantasy sex life. No amount of idle masturbatory daydreaming later on would come close to the sight, the smell, the sheer weight of a real, naked pair of tits in Roger's hands. Whether he would, as Uschi hypothesised, ever get bored of them, was another question. Roger was excited at the prospect of testing the theory in practice, but scared of the outcome if Uschi were proven right. Roger couldn't imagine a life without the stimulatory presence of lovely boobs around him. What point was there in living without tits?

'Where's the bra lady,' Selina frowned, scanning the room.

'What bra lady?' said Shelley.

'We booked a professional bra fitter who was going to come with another model and demonstrate how we girls should be measuring ourselves properly. She was supposed to be here by now.'

Roger was, in a way, relieved that he wouldn't have yet more bra sizes spoilt for him, and took the news in his stride. The candid disclosure of vital statistics from the buxom models Jemma and Shelley was more than enough for one day. And if he could make it home without jizzing his pants, then at least he still had the mysteries of Selina's burgeoning, pregnant bustline to ponder at orgasm-inducing length. Selina didn't realise how much this constant talk of breasts and bras was teasing and titillating him. With Uschi so rigorously demystifying the team's breasts, such treats were now a rarity for Roger.

'Anyway, it's nearly time,' said Selina, distracted and stressed. 'Let's go wait for the keynote speaker to finish, I'll introduce you, you start speaking from the notes, and I'll get these girls ready in the various outfits so they can pop out on cue.'

'Pop out on cue?' Roger's imagination ran wild in the wrong, horny direction.

'I mean come out, walk out on stage,' said Selina. 'Not pop out of their tops. Although looking at the size of dem tittays anything could happen.'

The keynote presentation had been given by the woman in the company Roger feared most of all: the Head of Human Resources, Kathy Telford. Roger was a diligent, conscientious manager, but his one predilection for hiring staff on the basis of bust size would, if discovered and proven, spell instant dismissal and an end to his career. Ironically his all-female team was if anything over-compliant with the company's diversity and equal opportunity policies, and deep down he had always dreaded the day that this would be flagged as suspicious and that his luck would run out. But the polite smile Kathy gave him leaving the stage as the assembled women applauded told him this was not the day.

Selina left Roger standing in the corner and tapped the lectern mic. 'Good morning, ladies. We've got a packed schedule and since the day is all about women and issues women face, we're going to get things off to a very female start by talking about two things that men definitely don't have to deal with: boobs. Big boobs, and how to clothe them here at work. I didn't use to have this problem myself, but as you can see since becoming pregnant I have developed a sizeable pair myself.' A ripple of sympathetic laughter passed over the audience. 'Now, I said that it's just women who have to deal with boobs, but for the next forty-five minutes, one man will have to deal with them, and that's my manager Roger Addington who has kindly agreed to run the session, so let's please hear it for Roger.'

Roger approached the lectern amid a sprinkling of bemused clapping while Selina scampered back out of the room to deal with her enormous-bosomed models. He scanned the audience. The smaller-breasted employees seemed to have skipped this one, as the average bust size seemed to qualify pretty much the entire crowd for a role in his team. His actual team was in the front row, beaming up at him in encouragement. Uschi gave him a thumbs-up and a subtle jiggle of her own luscious bosom, enticingly clad in a low-cut white vest top that afforded Roger an inviting view down her deep, hot cleavage. If she was wearing a bra it wasn't doing a particularly good job of concealing her areolae, which were distinctly evident, puffy mounds swelling just beneath her daring neckline, the effect being that it was her nipples alone holding the garment up much as Shelley's jutting K-cups had held her towel aloft. Vanessa definitely wasn't wearing a bra, her outrageous nude-shade camisole-clad Parisian pair resting on her trousered thighs as she hunched over her smartphone. Sarah was looking pert and proud in a pinstripe fitted blouse, a lacy white bra very much in evidence beneath, Susan beside her in a figure-hugging black skirt suit with a low-cut red crop-top beneath baring expanses of bosom that made Roger think with mixed feelings back to the sheer weight of her beautiful breasts as they had erupted from her corset into his hands, and Alice was looking every bit the bubbly busty blonde in a strapless pink knitted dress that flaunted her ample F-cups to endlessly jiggly erection-inducing effect. She kept fidgeting with it and tugging it upwards, bothering her wobbly bosom anew. There wasn't a single cleavage present that Roger didn't ache to penetrate and fill with the gallon of cum he felt bloating his testicles.

'Good morning, ladies,' Roger croaked, and took a sip of water then consulted the script Selina had given him. 'Breasts. We all love them, women and men, but while it's fun to show them off, the workplace is neither the time nor the place to do that. Large flaunted bosoms can undermine your professional credibility, and draw unwanted attention from male co-workers. Let's go through some basic tips for how to keep your assets in check.' Roger cringed inwardly at the cheesy writing. He waited for heckles, but none came. So nondescript was Roger's public sexual identity that the women seemed untroubled by the fact that these comments upon their intimacy were being delivered by a man.

Roger pressed the clicker and a Powerpoint slide appeared on the screen behind him. "Know Your Neckline."

'Know your neckline,' Roger read, after clearing his throat and taking another nervous sip of water. The door on the other side of the stage area opened and in walked the smiling redhead model Jemma. She was dressed in black heels, navy tights, a tight, smart knee-length skirt, and a white wraparound-type top that plunged in a deep V-shape to expose almost the entirety of her cleavage, from her clavicle to just above her stomach. The exposed portions of succulent breast quivered gaily as she strutted to the centre of the stage and struck a series of poses, each one clearly intended to emphasise just how inappropriate her revealing décolleté was.

'Jemma's top is cut too low for the workplace,' said Roger, then strayed from the script as his erection surged behind the lectern. 'The shape of the neckline not only draws focus down, but the sheer amount of bare flesh on display constitutes an unnecessary distraction. Jemma's 32F breasts, while firm and shapely, nonetheless jiggle noticeably when she walks in high heels, drawing yet more attention to the bust area.'

Jemma obliged by parading back and forth on her heels, sending her ample, half-naked chest into glorious jostling undulations. She gave Roger a wink as she headed in his direction.

'Thank-you, Jemma,' smiled Roger, and he really meant it. Jemma skipped out the door behind him as Shelley entered through the other.

'But bear in mind that while a large bust does not suit a low neckline, nor is it recommended to wear high-cut tops,' Roger returned to the script, attempting to regain his composure after Jemma's jiggly show.

Shelley walked to centre stage and placed hand on cocked hip. She was in grey suit trousers and wore a pale crew-neck sweater that appeared to have been painted directly onto her skin, so vividly did it describe the finer details of her heavy-bottomed, pouting breasts with their thick, turgid, half-erect nipples. Quiet gasps were heard from the audience, and Roger's erection, safely hidden from view behind the lectern, leapt at the sight. True enough, the neck-high collar of the sweater only served to amplify Shelley's already overwhelming bosom, even in its evidently braless state. The thin, tightly ribbed knit of the stretchy pullover found itself tucked under the globular undersides of each pendulous, jutting boob, and as her chest swayed in ever more irregular figures of eight, the fabric found itself trapped in the depths of her cleavage, too. Almost nothing was left to the imagination.

'As you can see,' continued Roger. 'Shelley's particular choice of sweater only serves to accentuate the size of her bosom in comparison to her otherwise very slim physicality. The expanse of fabric between neckline and bustline draws attention to itself in the same way a lack of clothing might.' Roger deviated from the script again. 'Note also how the thin, elastic nature of the material reveals to us that Shelley is not wearing a bra. The curvature of her large breasts is evident down to the last detail, including the outline of her full areolae and erect nipples. But we'll return to bralessness and Shelley's nipples later. Thank-you, Shelley.'

Shelley shot a dazzling grin at the audience, then headed to the exit behind Roger. As she approached, meaty K-cups lurching lustily beneath the paper-thin blue sweater, Roger saw her eyes glance down at his tented crotch and quickly look up again, her smiling eyes meeting his. Oh dear. While the lectern was concealing his wildly priapic state from the audience, it was clearly visible from the stage. But it was too late to do anything about that, unless he came in his pants there and then which would be just as difficult to conceal, every bit as embarrassing, and would deny him yet another private bedtime orgasm on his own terms.

Jemma returned to the stage again in a sensible, black top that, as Roger went on to explain, broke up the space between her neck and her bosom in a gentle V, and whose colour hid any tell-tale shadows cast by her protruding chest.

'Accessories,' said Roger, changing the presentation slide to display the word on screen. 'Avoid any which through their appearance or placement draw attention to the size of your bust.'

Shelley walked back in through the door opposite and did her model's walk. This time she had gone for a figure hugging plunge-neck top with short sleeves, this time with a bra underneath which elevated her stupendous bust to staggering, cleavagey altitude, but whose cups still failed to reach high enough to accommodate her distinctive nipples, which poked rudely at the red fabric atop their hillocked areolae. A long pearl necklace swayed round her neck.

'Shelley is sporting a pearl necklace, which,' he ad-libbed, 'She has been fortunate enough to have had bestowed upon her by an admirer.' There were a couple of sniggers from the dirtier-minded woman in the audience. Shelley flashed Roger a knowing smirk. All Roger could now see in place of the necklace was thick drapes of his own freshly produced semen, all over those fabulous K-cup breasts and nipples. 'See,' he said, 'how the pearls spill over Shelley's breasts, dangling and swaying from their jutting extremities. Notice also how the necklace occasionally gets trapped under one breast -' Shelley disentangled jewellery from boob, 'Or disappears into her deep cleavage.' Shelley engineered a deft shimmy to make this happen, then pulled the long strand of milky white pearls back out with what Roger perceived as a flirtatious smile in his direction. 'All we're looking at,' Roger said, 'Is Shelley's bust.'

Out came Jemma, as Shelley made her pearl-dangling exit. Jemma was in three-quarter-length cream linen trousers and a grey cardigan buttoned - with visible effort - over a white blouse. One button valiantly held the two halves of the cardigan together, and a golden brooch had been pinned with improbable positioning directly upon the perky summit of her left breast, where it wobbled and swayed atop this rounded, shapely dome.

'Two things to note here,' read Roger. 'If you have larger breasts - as Jemma does - avoid using a single button to fasten a top, as it will draw the observer's focus. Likewise, a brooch such as the one over Jemma's nipple is going to make her big bosom the centre of attention. When I look at Jemma now, I simply find myself just staring at her chest, as I'm sure you all do, too.' There was a murmur of agreement from the assembled women.

Shelley took Jemma's place, still wearing the low-cut cleavage-baring red top, but this time wearing a much shorter pearl necklace that extended halfway down her breastbone. 'Here's Shelley again,' said Roger, 'and we can see that she has swapped the long, dripping strands of pearls for a necklace that draws focus up to her face. When we look at her now, I am sure you agree that her bosom isn't the first thing we find ourselves looking at.' The bountiful abundance of Shelley's surging bust with its bra-shunning nipples and deep, rich cleavage, made this statement not a little absurd, and Roger noted a good number of envious, disapproving expressions in the audience.

Uschi, on the other hand, wore a grin from ear to ear. She knew what sweet torture this experience was for Roger, and something about her visible satisfaction told him that the best, and therefore simultaneously worst, was yet to come.

"Buy Clothes To Fit Your Bust," announced the next slide in the presentation, and Roger turned to his cue card. 'If your figure is top-heavy, you will find that clothes fitting your waist and hips won't necessarily fit your bosom. Here's Jemma to show us the pitfalls of dressing for your hips and not your chest.'

In walked Jemma, a black suit jacket over a horizontally-striped black and white dress above whose low décolletage her creamy breasts billowed and quivered with the very imminent threat of complete overspill.

'Jemma, what size dress is that?'

'A size ten,' said the ginger model, walking carefully so as not to dislodge her bosom in its entirety from the precarious confines of the dress.

'Remove the jacket, please,' said Roger, a little too eagerly. Jemma obliged, casting off the garment and slinging it over her shoulder as casually as she could. The dress was, to everyone's surprise and consternation, completely strapless, and it wasn't clear what was holding its bustline in place except the forceful outward pressure of her dense young bust itself. Anything, a cough, a sneeze, would be sure to send the hopelessly outmatched item scurrying downwards to bare her - presumably braless - chest to all in the room.

'While the dress fits Jemma's body in most respects, it clearly hasn't been designed with an F-cup chest in mind,' Roger commented, rather unnecessarily. He wishes he could freeze this moment in time. His balls weighed a ton, his cock felt like it had never been so erect, he could cum at any moment, while a few feet away from him, a glorious pair of firm, round breasts were on the brink of escaping. 'Jemma should have gone for a two part outfit with a size ten for her lower half and a top a few sizes up.'

Jemma made it off the stage, holding her breath and walking carefully to keep her errant bust contained. Shelley returned, supposedly to demonstrate the correct way of dressing. Pinstripe trousers covered her long legs and small, pert bottom - a perfect fit. Her upper body, on the other hand, was not so discreetly clad. The white cotton blouse, while doubtless several sizes bigger than the size 8 trousers, was nonetheless pathetically undersized. Between each labour-intensively fastened button, huge oval gaps yawned open, exposing the abyss of cleavage created by the push-up bra. The material was so delicate and thin that her nipples - still several inches clear of the bra cup limits, stood out not only by virtue of their thick rectitude but also their dusky pigmentation, a rich contrast to the pallid skin of her bosom. If Jemma's boobs had looked fit to pop out if her dress, Shelley's looked ready to tear the entire blouse to shreds. And Roger's erection was fit to explode in his pants. This was just too, too much, but he was determined not to let Uschi have the pleasure of pre-empting yet another wank, and took a deep breath to regain his composure in the face of such outrageous busty stimulation. I've seen their breasts naked, he reassured himself to take some edge off the tease. I've seen them, I've touched them, I've felt their weight, their density, their smooth supple texture... no the reminiscence just seemed to be making it worse.

He looked at the cue card, which said some things about how the model's blouse was supposed to be a perfect fit. 'In theory,' he said instead, 'Shelley here should be wearing a size 20 blouse which should be adequately clothing her chest, but... Shelley?'

'Sorry,' winced Shelley, her freckled snub nose wrinkling in an impossibly cute manner. 'It is a size 20 blouse, it's just still too small for my tits... I mean my breasts.' As if on cue, the middle button of the blouse popped open. 'Oops,' said Shelley with a sheepish grin. 'Sorry about this.'

She left the stage, her pink lips mouthing an apology at Roger as she passed. No apology needed, thought Roger. No apology needed.

'This seems like an appropriate time to turn to the subject of underwear,' said Roger. He clicked the pointer and the next slide appeared. "Wear An Appropriate Bra."

'You may think that it doesn't matter what bra you wear. After all, no-one's going to see it. But it's not that simple. Here's Jemma.'

Jemma took to the stage in a sharp black skirt suit. The jacket was buttoned beneath her bust, and ample hills of boob cavorted between the lapels, bisected by a tight, straight line of cleavage. She unbuttoned the jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. Beneath it she was wearing a white lace balconette. It covered her nipples, but only just, the tops of her pale areolae were only just in evidence peeking over the cups.

'You may think,' read Roger, 'that a lace white balconette constitutes reasonable workplace lingerie. But when you're late for that meeting and running along the corridor...'

Jemma broke into a jog in a wide circle around the stage. The sheer volume of exposed hemispherical breast, combined with the elasticated straps of the bra, meant that Jemma's bust was almost instantly set into an energetic vertical bounce that looked on the brink of hitting her on the chin. The accurate fit of the bra meant that Jemma's breasts remained well-contained throughout.

'... you have to deal with the bounce factor,' Roger continued, trying to ignore a display of busty athletics that would have done little to keep his throbbing erection at bay. 'Here's Shelley in the same bra. Though,' Roger ad libbed, 'I hope several cup sizes larger.' There was a sprinkle of laughter at his reference to the magnitude by which Shelley's bosom outranked Jemma's, and while Jemma collected her jacket and left the stage, bosom still jostling under its own inertia, Shelley took to the stage in a (thankfully) K-cup version of the same white lace balconette brassiere, wearing only a tartan skirt and red heels besides, and carrying a pink blouse. Roger being Roger, the sight of those awesome breasts in a bra was an even more horn-inducing spectacle than their appearance when nude, and he swiftly averted his eyes. 'Dressing for work, Shelley may be considering the same bra,' he said. Shelley posed and acted as though she were looking in a bedroom mirror. 'Of course, she's not going to go to work just in the bra, she thinks it will be well hidden beneath her blouse.' Shelley donned the blouse and buttoned it up. 'But the lace pattern is clearly visible through the pale cotton. 'A smooth cupped bra with full-breast coverage is the safest option.'

Roger clicked the pointer, and the presentation slide changed to read the word "Minimize" as Shelley strolled past him out the door. Jemma entered stage left, almost unrecognisably flat-chested beneath a frumpy brown sweater.

'Even in a discreet and well-fitting bra you may feel you're still simply too full-bosomed for the office, in which case you may want to consider a minimizer bra, like the one Jemma is wearing here.'

Jemma peeled off the sweater to reveal a severe contraption strapping down her boobs which were clearly trying to escape above, below, and to the sides of the heavy-duty cups. Her poorly concealed discomfort told the room that she wasn't happy with this arrangement. Roger thought back to Kathrin and her double life as a flat-chested businesswoman by day, and buxom H-cup bombshell by night. If the anguish on Jemma's face was anything to go by, Roger couldn't help but admire Kathrin's dedication to keeping her abundance hidden so effectively. He avoided the temptation to make eye-contact with Kathrin, who was a cumshot away from him in the front row.

The next slide exhorted the audience to "WEAR A BRA."

'With the exception of the aforementioned minimizers,' read Roger, pausing to thank Jemma as she hastened her way out, already scrambling her way out of the straitjacket undergarment, 'Most bras will have the effect of lifting and boosting a large bust, and so it can sometimes be tempting to dispense with one altogether. Here's Shelley, braless again.'

Shelley's erect, sweater-clad nipples entered the room from stage left, followed by Shelley's enormous wobbling breasts, then followed a few moments later by Shelley herself. It was the pale blue skin-tight sweater that Roger and the audience were already familiar with.

'We studied the attention-grabbing qualities of a thin, tight, light-coloured sweater earlier in the session, although of course the model was supposed to be wearing a bra at that point!'

'Sorry, I got mixed up,' shrugged Shelley, her shoulders slamming her heavy tits into one another, setting off wild activity under the sweater.

'Quite alright,' smiled Roger. 'The first reason to favour a bra should be obvious, and that's erect nipples. Jemma can get away with it as her nipples are flat, discreet, and not easily aroused...'

On cue, Jemma followed Shelley to centre stage, in a similar thin merino sweater of an autumnal orange that complemented her ginger hair. Her breasts wobbled, also braless, not Shelley's ponderous galloping, jostling K-cup wobble, but a brisk, prim F-cup jiggle and quiver with each step.

Roger continued, '... even under the constant friction of wool in direct contact with her sensitive skin. Note the smooth, uninterrupted line of Jemma's braless bust compared with the swollen, sexual urgency of Shelley's prodding nubs.' The two girls turned side-on to illustrate Roger's point. 'But it's not just about the nipples. Even more so than in a balconette, a lack of bra will result in a level of breast-jiggle that provides maximum attention-grabbing distraction not just in a run or walk, but in the most basic of activities. As I'm sure the larger-bosomed of you are aware, even the slightest shoulder-shimmy can result in a level of boob-movement certain to arouse the lusty passion of any red-blooded man in the room.'

And so, Jemma and Shelley turned again to face the audience, and with the slightest shake of their slender shoulders, put on a display of bosom-shimmying worthy of any burlesque act. Roger, as the only man in the room, red-blooded or otherwise, found himself so close to the edge of ejaculation that his only saving grace was his obstructed view of what was going on, the bosom-jiggling models being downstage with their backs to him. Roger couldn't remember a time he had needed so urgently to blow his load. He was going to have to get to a bathroom, pronto.

But, as he turned rashly away from the wobbling boobs that headed in his direction toward the stage-right exit, he saw from the cue cards that there was one final point on the session agenda.

"Bra Fitting," announced the final slide. Thank goodness he wouldn't be needed for this, nor would he want to be in the room, as there would be nothing more likely to cause him to cum more volcanically or conspicuously than a model being measured for a bra before his very eyes. He was legitimately concerned that any further breast-related arousal might cause him to pass out, or even suffer a heart attack or stroke.

'Please welcome professional bra fitter Nina Bridges.' Roger gestured toward the stage left door. Applause started, then slowly stopped, as no-one appeared.

Eventually, Selina appeared behind Roger. 'Roger!' she whispered.

'What is it?' He put his hand over the mic to keep the conversation between them.

'They haven't turned up! The bra fitter and her busty model! They're not here!'

'Oh dear. What's going to happen then?'

'You'll have to do it on me,' said Selina, then seeing the obvious panic in Roger's eyes, 'I know I've already asked a lot of you, but you'd really be helping me out. I'll talk you through it all, I just need you to take all the measurements with the tape. You won't mind seeing my tits, will you?'

Roger's blood ran cold. Not only was he about to learn Selina's turgidly milky bra size, he was going to be measuring it himself, and in front of a hundred female spectators, his own team numbering among them.

Selina took centre stage. 'Sorry ladies, there's a slight change to the plan, as Ms Bridges hasn't been able to make it, but I was closely involved in the preparation with this bra fitting part of the morning and with Roger's help I'm sure I can give you all the gist.'

Roger readjusted his erection behind the lectern, pushing it up beneath his belt doing his best not to apply too much friction with his fingers. Its throbbing head nestled, raw, swollen, and highly sensitive, just beneath his ribcage, with only his wide tie concealing the long bulge beneath his shirt from view. Smiling awkwardly, cold sweat beading his brow, he joined Selina at the front of the auditorium stage.

'As you may know, ladies,' began Selina, 'I'm expecting my first baby...' There was congratulatory applause. 'Thank-you, yes, I'm very excited. And you've all been too polite to comment, but I've sure you've all been wondering where I suddenly got these enormous boobs, so I hope this will put any rumours of cosmetic surgery to rest!'

The ladies chuckled.

'I assure you, my recent blossoming is all the work of Mother Nature, and it's been so sudden. In just a few weeks I've gone from a 32C to... well, we're about to find out. Roger? Ready with the tape measure?'

Selina shrugged off her white jacket. Beneath it, her solid, pregnant jugs stretched a scoop-neck top in navy sailor stripes to its absolute limit. This she peeled off, stripping down to a light grey cotton undervest that clung tightly to her young motherly curves. Sensitive nipples prodded visibly at the fabric, high above the outline of the bra cups far beneath. She took a deep breath, then whipped the vest off, too.

Roger stared in horny fascination. The pink silk cups of the bra clung desperately to the lower quarter of each staunch, solid, grapefruit-sized tit. It looked less like the bra was holding her breasts up, and more the other way around. Shoulder and backstraps dug deep into Selina's pale, skinny body, and swollen, elongated nipples pointed upwards and outwards at 45-degree angles, looking about as ready to squirt milk into the air as Roger's burgeoning penis was to ejaculate white creamy issuance of his own.

'This is my 32C bra,' said Selina, breaking the silence that had descended. 'As you can see, I've outgrown it quite a bit lately. I always had pointy nips, but at least I was able to hide the beneath padded bra cups. That's obviously no longer possible, as the undersides of my boobs have filled out so much that my nipples are practically sitting on top of them.' Selina proceeded to unhook the bra, which turned out to be as unnecessary as everyone guessed, as her ballooning bosom didn't drop an inch, instead continuing to thrust forth as though hewn from the finest marble. Her stomach was showing the merest hint of a belly, but this was still only really noticeable if you were looking out for it. Although, not a single pair of eyes was looking at Selina's stomach.

Raising the tape measure, Roger approached.

'First of all,' said the brazenly topless young mother-to-be, 'We need to measure under the bust to get the ribcage measurement. This may in some cases involve lifting a heavier pair of breasts out of the way, but my boobs are kind of doing that themselves so it won't be necessary in this case. That's right, Roger, all the way around.'

Roger stooped to pass the tape around young Selina's slender ribcage. The sleek undersides of her jutting breasts met with her body at a right angle, with no crease whatsoever. Roger inhaled the warm, milky aroma mixed with the floral scent of her perfume and the coconut of her body lotion, and in a genuine accident, grazed his knuckles under each breast as his hand went by. So close was his face that he could make out the prickle of goosebumps all over Selina's pale skin as he did this. He glanced up at a proud, red nipple, then quickly looked away as he felt the head of his cock pulsate in instant response, still trapped against his stomach. He read the measurement on the tape: 'Twenty-four inches.'

'Thanks Roger,' said Selina. 'For an even number we then four inches to that - we'd add five if it were an odd number - and that gives us a band size of 28. Now, to obtain the cup size, we measure around the fullest part of the bust. Roger, where would you say that was.'

Roger studied Selina's naked bust as it surged in matronly grandeur before her. 'It's tempting to say across your nipples,' said Roger, trying to maintain some level of professional composure. 'But in fact your breasts continue to swell outwards beneath them, so I'd say about... her.' He lightly touched the outmost extremity of Selina's curving right breast, about an inch below her skyward-pointing nipple.

Selina didn't appear bothered at having her bare breast touched by her manager, and instead urged Roger to continue with the measurement. Roger passed the tape measure around again, this time taking the liberty of holding the ends together at the front. He now had both hands on her breasts. He was astonished by how rock-solid they were, ever so slightly slick and shiny from the large amounts of moisturizer she was evidently applying these days. He was staring straight at her raw, erect nipples, and longed to suck on one the way he had Susan's.

'Thirty-six inches,' he read.

'Oh my goodness,' breathed Selina. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes,' said Roger, and carefully pulled the tape measure away from Selina's bare breasts, letting them sway freely again, their lofty defiance of gravity at miraculous odds with their considerable size and weight. 'Thirty-seven inches.'

'Call up the next slide in the presentation,' said Selina. Roger clicked the pointer and a table appeared matching numbers to letters. 'We subtract the full bust measurement from the band size, and then look up that number on the chart to obtain the cup size.'

Roger did the arithmetic. 'Eight inches difference,' he said. Everyone in the room looked at the chart.

Selina put a hand to her mouth. 'I guess that makes me a twenty-eight double G,' she said with a gulp. 'Roger, could you go out the back and see if we have any there?'

Roger nodded and made a beeline for the stage exit out into the corridor. Twenty-eight double G! The nearest gents' restroom was several minutes' walk away. He couldn't wait that long. He dove in to the green room and, perceiving it to be vacated, flung his necktie over his shoulder and unbuttoned his shirt to free his raging erection into the open.

'Oh!' said a female voice to his left. He jumped in shock. It was Shelley, back in jeans and a cherry red vest top, sitting just inside the doorway where he hadn't seen her. 'Oh goodness!'

'I'm... I'm so sorry,' gasped Roger. His thick mast was thoroughly exposed, and there was no point in trying to hide it now. 'I... I can explain!'

'It's okay, it's okay,' reassured Shelley, standing and taking a few steps closer. 'I completely understand, that must have been torture for you! You probably need to cum pretty hard now, am I right?'

Roger nodded.

'I'll give you a hand, it's the least I can do,' said Shelley, and turning her face away from the imminent blast, wrapped her fingers around Roger's veined, throbbing penis and gave it a few brisk rubs.

Relief coursed through Roger's body from his prickling scalp to his blood-drained fingertips as semen, thick and opaque, left his cockhead and hit the ceiling in a rapid series of viscous eruptions. The wet substance splattered and dangled from above as Roger gazed down Shelley's top at her K-cup breasts, jostling heavily as she wanked him off.

'You must feel a lot better now,' Shelley said, carefully releasing her deft grip and letting Roger's spent dick wilt a little. 'You looked like you were about to have a seizure! Luckily nurse Shelley was on hand with some treatment.' She winked at him and took a paper tissue before handing him the box.

High-heeled footsteps approached from the corridor outside. Shit! Roger buttoned up his shirt and quickly sat down in the corner by the dressing table, his tie still thrown over his shoulder. His heart was still pounding fast from the excitement, and he noticed with embarrassment the thick, congealed wad of semen that dangled and stretched from the ceiling.

The door opened and in popped a bespectacled face, framed by a sleek auburn bob. 'Is this the green room for the Women's Day event?'

'It is,' said Roger as casually as he could under the circumstances.

The woman stepped inside, a large bust neatly packed into a smart black knee-length dress, a leather hold-all in her hand, from whose sides poked pastel-toned hints of lacy underwear. A young blonde with an ample bosom of her own followed apprehensively. 'I've had a series of mixed messages about the event. I was booked to do a live bra fitting on Jo here, but someone phoned me this morning to say it had been cancelled. Then I had a series of voicemails from the event organiser asking where I was.'

'How strange,' said Roger. 'The event is most definitely going ahead, but I'm afraid we've already done the bust measurements without you.' The white gunge of his recent emission was descending in sticky strands above the bra lady's head, and he wanted to warn her but had no idea what to say. 'Who did you say called you this morning?'

'A young woman who said she was phoning from your head office in Frankfurt. German accent.'

Uschi! This had all been engineered with Machiavellian genius. Now there was only Vanessa to go. Roger's cock began to stiffen again at the mere thought of Vanessa's enormous breasts and the mystery of that final bra size - not counting Uschi herself, of course.

'I'm sorry about that,' said Roger. 'But there's still time if you want to contribute. Selina herself acted as the bra sizing subject, and we established her as a size twenty-eight double G just now. I've been sent back here to fetch some bras in that size. She's waiting out there on stage now, it's the next door along the corridor.

'Perfect, thank-you,' said the lady. 'Come along, Jo,' she said, and the two left just as the bulk of Roger's fresh semen finally splodged onto the carpet behind them.

'Thank God I don't have to go back in there,' said Roger, head in hands. 'I don't think my cock could take it.' He stood, his large semi-erection still trapped between belt and stomach.

'Do you need to cum again?' asked Shelley.

'Um, why,' said Roger.

'I've been learning to titfuck,' she said. 'And I could really use someone to try on.'

She peeled off her vest top, baring those sumptuous luxury breasts and suckable nipples.

'Oh, go on then,' said Roger.

Uschi Ch. 07

bylctf©

Lately, Roger had come to discover another unwelcome side-effect of Uschi's campaign to cleanse him: boredom. Whereas once upon a time he had spent his daylight hours fantasizing about the women who worked for him, his evenings masturbating, and his nights asleep recharging his voyeuristic libido to start the lecherous process from scratch, Uschi's successful attempts to propel him to premature climax were leaving him hours of free time he had no idea what to do with. An adult lifetime of perving had, so he was discovering, left him with no hobbies or interests beyond looking at and thinking about breasts. What was worse, he was now realising that without the sexual tension of unresolved busty titillation, his managerial office job was actually pretty dull.

Even on those days where Uschi wasn't up to one of her convoluted schemes, she was still finding ad hoc ways to drive Roger over the ejaculatory edge, usually before lunch and sometimes within an hour of arriving in the office. She would upset the delicate balance by which he let his orgasm build naturally over the course of the day by teasing him relentlessly in the most explicit terms, sending graphic emails and texts, summoning him for meetings in private during which she would bare her breasts and purge him of his pent-up seed using her hand or her cleavage. The silvery white stains on the meeting room carpet were becoming increasingly difficult to explain.

And weekends were no exception. Uschi had taken to calling on Roger on Saturday and Sunday mornings, texting him videos of her breasts bouncing as she had sex with her boyfriend, phoning him to describe sex acts she had enjoyed or ones she herself fantasized about, and would even on occasion show up in person to make sure Roger was getting all that sexual energy out of his system.

And all the while, the spectre of Vanessa's enigmatic, huge, sexy breasts loomed over this unorthodox sexual relationship. Uschi had managed to afford Roger access not just to the entire department's bra sizes but to their bare bosoms and nipples, and if she was going to complete her mission as intended, then Vanessa was going to be no exception. Roger dreaded this stage of the journey. Vanessa's tits were all his dirty little imagination had left to work with, and to kill that mystery dead would be the nail in the coffin of his contented masturbatory existence. Sure, he'd continue to fetishise big breasts, and he'd been doing a valiant job jerking off to the memories of the breast-baring scenarios which Uschi had so elaborately choreographed over the past weeks, but his whole routine was on the verge of being completely ruined. And what would come next? Would Uschi simply stop campaigning? Would she consider him cured of his obsession? Would he, in fact, be cured?

Roger looked across the office at Vanessa, standing by the photocopier reading an invoice, idly scratching her shoulder under her top where on any other woman a bra strap would be. Her breasts, so absurdly at odds with her bony frame, ballooned and sloshed about under her cream coloured long-sleeve T-shirt. As usual she was showing no cleavage, but the way the fabric dipped between her swelling orbs more than made up for that. She was, in many respects, very similar to Shelley, the busty model who had so kindly helped him out of his priapic predicament in the green room on International Women's Day. Same lanky frame, same long, floppy brown hair, same enormous tits. In a depressing way, the resemblance almost made him feel like Vanessa had somehow already been conquered by proxy. But there was still the matter of the nipples. Shelley had had bulbous areolae topped with thick, suckable nipples, but Vanessa, braless as she always was, always showed a relatively smooth profile. There was the occasional swell of a puffy, flattened mound when the air-conditioning got too chilly, but otherwise Vanessa's breasts seemed as resistant to excitement as Vanessa herself, the cool, sulking, unflappable Parisian. He'd never even see her smile.

He opened the bra size spreadsheet, once the administrative cornerstone of his lascivious ruminations, now a rather prosaic reminder of how little mystery now lay beneath his female co-workers' blouses. For old-time's sake, he typed "30K" in the bra size column next to Vanessa's name - an educated guess given what he knew of Shelley's similar vital statistics - and a final, delicious question mark in the "nipples" field.

The first sign that Uschi was up to something came during the Thursday morning team meeting. It was Bastille Day in France, and Vanessa had taken a couple of days' leave to go back to Paris for the long weekend, so as the meeting agenda drew to a close and Roger asked for any other business, Uschi took the opportunity to raise an unscheduled point of order in the young Frenchwoman's absence.

'Something I feel I must bring up, Roger,' she said, 'Vanessa and her braless tits.'

The other girls nodded and murmured their own disapproval.

'Uschi, I've talked to her about it numerous times. She's never worn a bra before and doesn't intend to start now.'

'But they're huge!' exclaimed Sarah with Celtic passion. 'They're the biggest knockers I've ever seen! I thought I was big up top, and mine aren't even half the size of hers.'

The girls laughed.

'And she's only twenty, God bless her, so she's lucky enough to have youth on her size holding those things up in the air, but the size they are and the way they bounce, they'll be round her ankles in five years' time.'

Selina chipped in. 'You gave the presentation yourself, Roger. It's simply not appropriate to come to work braless when you have boobs that size.'

'I've asked her nicely,' said Roger with a shrug. 'There isn't much more I can do except ask nicely again. And I can assure you, her choice of clothing - or lack thereof - is as much a distraction for me as it is for you.'

'I bet it is,' murmured Susan, deadpan. Roger had the feeling she still hadn't forgiven him for abandoning her in her apartment, though the subject had never been brought up directly. 'Maybe you prefer her braless, so you can get a good look at those big round jiggling melons of hers.'

'That's an absurd suggestion,' scoffed Roger with an unconvincing laugh.

Alice fidgeted with her bra straps under her peach blouse. 'Well I know how Vanessa feels,' she said. 'Don't know about you, but when I get home from work, the first thing I do is whip my bra off and set the girls free. I'd love to just leave the thing at home and come to work braless.'

'Well, why don't you?' said Uschi.

The women all looked at the Bavarian beauty, the penny dropping slowly.

Uschi continued. 'Think about it. Until Roger does something about Vanessa's business attire, I declare an office bra amnesty.'

Sarah gave a naughty giggle. Smiles spread across Alice and Selina's faces. Susan and Kathrin exchanged challenging looks.

'But Uschi,' Roger began. She was going too far now. This would turn him into a walking, permanently cumming erection.

'All in favour say aye,' said Uschi.

The decision from the women was unanimous. From Vanessa's return to work on Monday, it was agreed that all bras would be stashed in handbags upon arrival in the office.

'Would you stay behind, Uschi,' said Roger as the team stood and left the meeting room. 'A quick word.'

Uschi closed the door. 'Certainly,' she said, her full lips an innocent pout.

Roger pushed his chair away from the table and gestured, rather unnecessarily, to the twitching tent in his suit trousers he had been hiding during the meeting.

'Oops,' said Uschi, her gaze lingering on Roger's well-endowed groin.

'I'm going to crazy when you all start coming in with no bras on,' Roger snapped, more in despair than anger. 'Look how erect I am just thinking about it.'

'My nipples are pretty erect thinking about how erect you are,' Uschi replied.

'Saying things like that hardly helps,' said Roger.

'Oh but it does,' said Uschi. 'Anything that gets you closer to a big creamy orgasm means less time spent in the company of a lecherous pervert.'

'You do realise what little sense that makes,' said the desperately priapic Roger.

Uschi snapped open her back band of her bra under her blouse and detached the shoulder straps from the cups, then pulled the undergarment away from her body. Her delicious breasts resumed their inviting natural pout beneath the sheer fabric. 'Have you never heard of the cause being the cure? Think of when we have our 'flu jabs every year. They're actually immunising us by giving us the 'flu. And this is the same. The best cure for an obsession with tits is more tits. Tits everywhere. Tits, tits, tits, tits.' She let hers shimmy gently under her blouse. 'We can't really come to work topless, but we can do the next best thing. Just think of all the downblouse glimpses, the nipple slips. Have you seen the weather forecast for next week? 27 degrees, Roger. We'll be wearing our flimsiest, lowest cut tops, and the air conditioning in the office... brrr. Our nipples will be hard as diamonds, Roger darling.'

'Uschi I'm just going to cum in my pants, over and over again.'

'And after a few weeks you'll be so bored you'll never want to cum over a pair of tits again.'

'I seriously doubt that,' said Roger.

'Well, then let's give you your daily 'flu jab,' shrugged Uschi, and unbuttoned her blouse with German efficiency. What little of her prodigious endowments remained to the imagination was still nothing short of perfection. 'Cock out, Mr Addington.'

Roger undid belt and trousers without bothering to stand. He tugged the elastic of his underpants with difficulty past his erection and let the groaning, creaking member shudder upwards, the length of his forearm, veins throbbing, the head a virile scarlet, the eye at its pinnacle gaping and streaming pre-cum.

Uschi stepped towards Roger and stooped forward until her full, ripe, hanging fruit dangled softly either side of that angry plum-like helmet. She grabbed the base of his shaft in one olive-skinned hand and cradled his bloated testes in the other, then began to shake the towering erection from side to side, using it to slap her bulbous breasts about from deep within her swaying cleavage.

'Christ,' choked Roger, erupting instantly. His thick white custard pelted Uschi's bare bosom in violent, grateful spurts. 'Fucking hell, Uschi. Fuck.'

'What are you doing this weekend?' asked Uschi calmly, as she coaxed the final few splattering cleavagefuls of seed from Roger's flailing cock with minimal effort.

'This weekend?' Roger wheezed. 'Nothing, obviously. I ... fuck!' A final, painful load squirted forth as Uschi rubbed her thickening, beige nipple over his winking red opening.

'Good,' said Uschi. She stood up straight again, a thick, gooey curtain of milky jism stretching up to her nude bosom like mozzarella from a pizza. 'My boyfriend is away. I'm coming to stay with you until Monday. We need to build up your stamina before the bra amnesty.'

Roger was too blissed out post-orgasm to deal with Uschi's demands, and simply nodded.

Uschi took the train home with Roger on Friday night, though she agreed with Roger that it would be best to leave the office at separate times. The idea that such a mismatched pair of individuals might be having an affair was absurd, but with the increasing number of one-on-one meetings the two were having, sometimes several times a day, it was nonetheless prudent to avoid any further behaviour outside the office likely to set tongues wagging.

In Roger's flat, Uschi threw her gym kit onto the settee and stretched her arms, thrusting her voluptuous chest outward to its full extent.

Roger lifted the bag. It was very light. 'You don't seem to have brought much with you,' he noted. 'No changes of clothes?'

'Oh Roger,' purred Uschi with a flash of her dark eyes. 'You forget why I'm here.' And with that she performed her well-practised flourish of pulling her bra out from under her top, a tight grey T-shirt. Her breasts wobbled, a seductive reminder as she threw the lace item across the room

'Of course,' said Roger, eyeing Uschi's Bavarian bosom with undisguised hunger.

'I'm not going to need clothes this weekend, darling,' she said in her husky, heavily Germanic tones. 'I'm here to acclimatise you to the mundanity of the female body.'

Roger just stared. Here in the privacy of his own home, he didn't have to limit himself to the occasional discreet glance. He could just stare, stare as much as he wanted. And Uschi was encouraging it. Roger suppressed a devilish chuckle. She thought she was desensitizing him. But the joke was going to be on her. The joke, along with the endlessly refilling contents of Roger's boob-powered testicles.

'I can see that you're still very excited by the sight of my lovely braless bosom,' Uschi observed. 'But by Monday morning I expect that your urges will have subdued enough to sustain you through a day surrounded by six juicy pairs of unrestrained bouncy titties.'

'We'll see about that,' grunted Roger, drinking in the wobbling sight of Uschi's large, perfectly-formed breasts beneath the tight grey cotton.

'Go ahead, Roger,' Uschi said with a crafty smile. 'Touch them.'

'Really?'

'Yes, really. Touch them, squeeze them, jiggle them, suck them, fuck them, cum over them in those big thick ropes of yours. Have your way with them. My big German tits are all yours, Roger, all weekend.'

Roger let out a juvenile giggle. This was too good to be true. He rubbed her hands and extended then towards the lush paradise before him.

But Uschi suddenly placed her arm across her chest as a barrier between them, and raised an imperative finger. 'Three rules, however.'

'What?' said Roger, impatient to get to work.

'No kissing. My mouth, I mean. We are not lovers, this isn't a romantic affair. Only my boyfriend kisses me on the mouth.'

'Fine.'

'You can kiss any other part of my body, however, as much as you like.'

'Got it.'

'Next: no fucking. I must confess I've been thinking a lot about how that long, thick cock of yours would feel inside me, but not this weekend.'

'Whatever you say.' All Roger was interested in was tit-play. He had never been particularly interested in the idea of penetrative intercourse anyway.

'Finally, while, like I say, you may kiss, lick, and suck my tits all you want, you are liable to turn me on. After all, I'm only made of flesh and blood too. So to avoid the temptation for us to break the aforementioned rule number two, if the attention you pay to my bosom arouses me to a point where my nipples stiffen and my pussy moistens, it will be your turn to make me cum.'

This rule stopped Roger in his tracks. 'How do I do that?' he asked, dumbly.

Uschi laughed, not without tenderness. 'Oh Roger. You silly innocent man. Why by licking my pussy, of course.'

Roger had heard of this oral practice before, and the notion had always struck him as peculiar. But whatever it took. 'I can't guarantee I'll be any good at it,' he said, 'But, whatever it takes.'

'Excellent,' beamed Uschi, dropping her arm from her bust, letting it sway free again. 'Now, help yourself.'

With a moan of pure, unrestrained delight, Roger plunged his fingers into the twin outward manifestations of Uschi's rampantly sexual femininity. Uschi simply stood there, smiling in endless indulgent patience while her line manager had his gleeful way with her bodacious bosom, kneading and probing it through her top. She pulled the pin from her dark hair, letting the bun collapse around her neck and shoulders in luxuriant waves of mahogany and ebony. Minutes went by while Roger did nothing but test the weight of her breasts through her clothing, letting them wobble lightly up and down on his fingertips, their paradoxical weight versus the placement they boasted so high on her frame an endless source of fascination for the seasoned breast-fiend.

'They're just tits, Roger,' Uschi said softly. 'Just body tissue and fat.'

'Oh Uschi,' Roger laughed mirthlessly, drunk on tit, 'That's where you are entirely wrong. They're not just tits. They're so much more than that.'

Uschi lifted her top up to her neck, hefting her breasts up with it before letting them plunge heavily only to rebound back upwards, jutting and perky, her wide, softly mounded areolae and nipples gazing out at the powerlessly besotted Roger. 'Just. Tits,' she repeated. 'They're not even that firm. Look how much they jiggle when I shake my shoulders.' And, knowing exactly what she was doing, she gave Roger a peerless shimmy, her fleshy bared tits jellying gloriously before her.

'Oh fuck,' croaked Roger. His tongue felt thick and dry with sheer lust, his fingers and toes tingled as blood raced from every extremity to his thirsty reproductive organ. 'Don't stop doing that.' Scrambling out of trousers and underpants, he stumbled backwards and collapsed into the armchair to enjoy this spectacle which Uschi was staging for him. His cock leapt, writhing, swelling and thickening by the second, from his groin, and the first of what promised to be a great many orgasms that weekend coursed through his body culminating in a fountain of stick jism that spurted, unaided save for the considerable visual stimulus of Uschi's wanton jiggling and come-hither pout, into the air, vast ropes of the stuff flying backward over his head and landing on his own face and chest, stinginh his eyes, salting his lips, and staining his shirt. 'Urrgghh,' he grunted, overcome in every sense of the word.

'Even my boyfriend doesn't make my tits feel as sexy as you do, Roger,' confessed Uschi. 'That was quite the compliment! Let's make sure you get it all over my titties in future, though, rather than all over you.

Roger nodded obediently. This was one rule he certainly had no quarrel with. He wondered if Uschi realised that she was potentially swapping one fetish for another. Now that the mysteries of the team's bra sizes were nearly all solved, and now that he was enjoying a hands-on sexual (if coldly unromantic) relationship with Uschi which had given him a taste for more visceral pleasures of the flesh, Roger was finding his fantasies turn from benign appreciation of the female form for its own sake to thoughts of stripping, groping, and ejaculating all over his co-workers.

'I'm going to put my top back on now, Roger, to give you some braless entertainment while you recuperate.'

'I'll call out for a pizza,' panted Roger.

For the rest of the evening, Roger took advantage of the full access Uschi had afforded him to her scrumptious, olive-skinned body. He lay her down on the sofa, straddled her and thrust his returning erection into her deep, tight cleavage, slowly fucking it to another messy orgasm over the course of thirty delicious minutes of groping, squeezing, and titfucking. They showered together, Roger pouring scrupulous effort into the soaping of Uschi's breasts, massaging them from behind while his thick semi-erection nestled comfortably between her plump buttocks.

When, at 2am, Roger's erectile worship of Uschi's physique still showed no sign of abating, the two lay in bed engaged in a series of long, slow titwanks that ended as the two unlikely lovers both drifted into a deep sleep, Roger on his back, Uschi sprawled over him, her head on his hairy chest, her soft bosom squashing against his groin, sleepy penis twitching in her cleavage, still very much awake while Roger himself dreamt. And dream he did, graphic, wet scenarios of wanton titfucking, involving women he knew and had known in years gone by. He came and came again in his sleep, and by the time daylight caused the two to stir to life once again, Uschi's breasts were superglued around Roger's penis with the generous, sticky helpings of cum that had flowed during the night.



Uschi, half asleep, extracted herself from this creamy soup and rolled off her horny manager, her breasts rolling around, high on her chest, as she spread across the bed on her back. Roger, waking too, slapped a groggy hand onto one of those towering, wobbly tits, savouring it like a restorative mug of coffee.

'You're an animal, Roger,' Uschi slurred. She wasn't complaining.

Rolling toward her, Roger's erection prodded stiffly into the soft flesh of her rounded rip as he helped himself to a further stage of breakfast by crossing the threshold into oral breastplay. Uschi let out a moan of surprise and delight. Roger's inexperience was eclipsed by his innate sensuality where breasts were concerned. The man clearly loved tits an enormous amount, and his lips and tongue were as tender in their expression of admiration as his intentions were selfish and ungentlemanly.

'Roger...' began Uschi softly. 'Remember what we discussed.' A bolt of pleasure shot from her heavily-sucked nipple through her body with a helpless shudder, and she found herself groping her neglected other tit with feverish fingers. 'Eat me out now.'

Roger disengaged mouth from boob. 'Can I play with your tits while I do that?'

'I insist.' Uschi pushed Roger's head down her body to her thickly tousled groin.

Roger drank in the scent, unfamiliar and yet instantly recognisable as the aroma of feminine arousal, pungent, heady, and delicious. Nestling his nose in her pubic thatch, he let his lips and tongue get to know the lips and folds of Uschi's pussy, while his outstretched hands groped and jiggled her lush naked bosom. He had no idea what he was doing, but Uschi's purrs of pleasure told him he must be doing something right, and as long as he continue manhandling those phenomenal, firm boobs he was happy to do anything for this young woman.

When the orgasm hit Uschi, it wasn't the stuff of sexual legend, but an orgasm it was, and she had to hand it to Roger for getting her there first time. Roger, slobbering and panting like a puppy, crawled back onto the bed, his now very prominent morning erection drawing a slippery line of precum all the way up Uschi's shin and thigh.

'Your turn,' said Uschi, fixing him with a lazy post-orgasmic stare. 'Can't have you enjoying that boner any longer. We need to clear your head.' She leapt up and wrestled him with ease onto his back, her heavy hanging boobs slapping his enormous erection in all directions before she took its plumlike helmet in her mouth and gave it the same wet, slathering, vacuum-sealed treatment he had lavished on her randy nipple.

This was another new experience for Roger in his rollercoaster weekend of belated copulatory awakening. He had sometimes wondered, without excitement, what fellatio would feel like, and now he was finally receiving it he wondered what the fuss was about, even with so preeminent a fantasy figure as Uschi herself administering. Hot and cushioning though her plump lips were, they were no match for the handsome, vice-like, fuckable grip of her deep young cleavage. Roger's attention turned to the round, heavy breasts that swung as Uschi threw herself into her oral duties, and the sight alone prompted Roger's first ejaculation of the day (at least, the first since waking).

Uschi choked, coughed, and recoiled bodily from the forceful outflow of semen that the mere existence of her tits had inspired in Roger. Cum pelted her face from a foot away as Roger's long, thick erection wriggled and gushed like an unattended garden hose. She tilted her head and returned to the spurting shaft, licking and sucking its length, encouraging its gooey spasms until Roger was, temporarily, spent.

He rolled away. The very thought of Uschi and her body made his groin ache. His tender, withered cock trembled on the bed sheets. Uschi, now wide awake and layered in cum of various states of congealment and crustiness, hopped from the bed and skipped from the room, her hair, bosom, and buttocks jouncing briskly as she went.

Roger's virility returned soon enough, and after a breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast the remainder of the morning was spent with Uschi enacting various office tasks which, in underwear would have been mundane enough, but which braless in a tight-fitting T-shirt suddenly turned into scenes from a Russ Meyer movie. Roger tried and failed to keep his errant penis from rising to Uschi's bosomy provocation, and each time the tent in his trousers reached a level of towering stiffness that Uschi deemed unacceptable, he was stripped bottomless and wanked, sucked, or titfucked to a swift climax before the whole process began again, albeit with diminishing returns where Roger's production of sperm was concerned. But, desperate to maximise this time with the woman of his dreams, Roger soldiered on, finding erotic stimulation not just in Uschi's perfect breasts but in the elegant curves of her legs, the succulent swell of her dark-curled pussy, and in the plump, perky perfection of a bottom that was otherwise sorely wasted on the thoroughly breast-obsessed man. Uschi had stashed her bra back in her bag, and although Roger had had numerous opportunities to sneak a peek at those magical numbers and letters inscribed upon the undergarment's label, the thought had genuinely not occurred to him, so swept away was he by this erotic whirlwind.

Eventually, around noon, Roger could take no more and fell asleep on his back on the living room carpet where, having transgressed once again and feasted upon Uschi's luscious pale nipples with great sexual appetite, he had found himself with the German temptress's thighs around his face, her labia grinding against his mouth and nose while his tongue lapped her gagging clit.

He woke to the sound and smell of sausages sizzling. His own sausage swayed, semi-erect in the air, the hour's sleep having seemingly been enough to restore his libido somewhat. A plastic carrier bag sat on the kitchenette table. She had been to the shop.

'You're alive,' boomed Uschi from the stove. She was wearing one of Roger's old black T-shirts and his never-worn grey tracksuit bottoms, bought years before with never-resolved intentions to exercise.

Roger licked his lips, confused at first by the pungent, salty flavour of Uschi's now rather sticky juices. He stumbled, wearing only a Hawaiian shirt and black socks, to his feet, and made his way to the bathroom to wash, soaping his sensitive erection with care in an ultimately futile attempt to to arouse it further.

They ate the lunch Uschi had cooked. Roger stared unabashed at Uschi's bust which wobbled energetically as she ran her knife back and forth through a sausage.

'Surely my braless boobs can't still be turning you on?' she said, and peeked around the table, shaking her head in despair at the tent erected in Roger's trousers. 'When the whole team's braless on Monday I don't want to be wanking you off all day. They'll be getting suspicious. Here, have a feel and get it out of your system.' She lifted the T-shirt, baring her full breasts. Roger gazed in awe. She was managing to tire him out physically, but if there was a point where he was supposed to get bored of those tits, Roger couldn't imagine it arriving any time soon. He reached across the table and helped himself to a keen grope, fondling and squeezing Uschi's bulbous bosom with both hands. 'Just think of what Sarah's going to look like with those perky Irish E-cups jostling in her boob tube with no bra to hold them in place. You won't have the luxury of pleasuring yourself with her the way you have with me now. What are you going to do?'

'That's the problem, Uschi,' said Roger as he had his filthy way with her bountiful bare bosom at the kitchen table. 'The way you're carrying on I can't just get off on the thought of all your tits any more. I have to feel them, suck them, blow my load all over them.'

'As long as you just do that with mine, what they don't know can't hurt them,' reasoned Uschi, and, with a saucy smile, shimmied her shoulders causing her boobs to wobble heavily in Roger's palms.

'I'm going to cum,' rambled Roger.

'Show me,' said Uschi, scraping her chair back from the table and standing. 'I need to be sure you're really letting it all out and not secretly allowing it to build up.' She peeled off the T-shirt, now completely topless, her large areolae impossibly perky atop her perfect breasts. In a now well practised move, she extracted Roger's lengthy member from his pants, leaned over it until her hanging bosom flanked the throbbing head, and gripped its base with her left hand to steady it while cum pumped and gushed into her cleavage. Roger sighed with endless relief, clutching her breasts with weak fingers and massaging his cock with their yielding olive-skinned flesh.

The two of them confined to Roger's apartment, the weekend progressed along these repetitive lines. On Saturday night Roger slept for nearly thirteen hours solid before another exhausting day of relentless tit-teasing from the bouncy, infatigable Uschi. Roger's cock ached, it hurt to cum, and when Sunday evening arrived Roger was averting his eyes whenever Uschi and her braless bust hove into his field of view. For now, at least, the conditioning exercise had succeeded, and as she collected her things, dressed in her clothes from Friday and skipped into the street to catch an evening bus back home, she left Roger a dehydrated, limping husk of a man, dreading the next day in the office.

He set several early alarms and made sure he was at work before the rest of the team. He didn't want to be caught out by any further potential shenanigans from the devious mind of Uschi. He had already been coerced into tolerating the bra amnesty in protest at Vanessa's free and easy disregard for underwear, and had the feeling that it wasn't going to end there.

Vanessa was the first to arrive, most unusually, given that she tended to breeze in anything up to an hour late. She was lightly tanned from a weekend in Paris, and as the low lace-trim neckline of her strappy cream-coloured cotton vest top travelled up and down the upper slopes of her unfettered bosom, it was readily apparent that the tan wasn't restricted to the parts of the body a woman generally leaves covered up. She grunted a morning greeting in Roger's general direction.

'Enjoy the long weekend?' asked Roger jovially, suppressing a wince as his cock twitched painfully as his mind's eye travelled out of sheer force of habit inside Vanessa's top at the oversized goodies within.

Vanessa shrugged, her huge French tits rebounding and wobbling indifferently. 'It was okay. I found time for sunbathing.'

'So I can see,' said Roger. 'It's a nice, even tan you have.'

'In France we can sun ourselves topless,' said Vanessa, looking down at her bare arms and upper chest. 'Not like 'ere, with you prudish Brits. And when you don't wear a bra, like me, it is important not to 'ave tan lines.' By way of illustration, Vanessa tugged the thin straps of her vest until they fell loosely from her bony shoulders. All that now held the top in place was the jutting peaks of her perky, precariously mobile breasts. Perhaps, thought Roger, it was even the tips of her nipples, caught in a hole in the lace, that were keeping her top from simply falling down and baring those magnificent tits in their incongruous enormity. Although her daily bralessness left little to the imagination, this was the first time Roger had seen Vanessa in something so low cut, and the clues her deep, tight cleavage offered as to the true nature of those mammoth mammaries sent Roger's tit-weary penis into agonising convulsions.

'I'd show you my bare boobs, too,' Vanessa taunted with a callous sneer, 'But I know 'ow much you disapprove of zem.' And on that taunting, teasing note, she pulled the straps back on to her shoulders, briefly hefting her breast back up, tangled in cotton, before they descended again in tumbling disarray inside her top while she sat down at her desk.

Before Roger could say anything, in walked the two blondes Sarah and Alice in states of unconstrained femininity that would normally have had Roger reaching for the Kleenex, but now only served as a migraine-inducing reminder of the exhaustingly orgasmic weekend Uschi had just put him through.

Sarah was in a tight grey sweater of very thin jersey material that described every curve, outline and dimple of her succulent Irish chest in vivid, no-bra detail. Roger thought of the carefully choreographed wardrobe malfunction and swiftly assembled the jigsaw in his mind that filled in the girlie pink pigmentation of her soft, swollen, golfball-diameter areolae. The brisk quiver her tits undertook with each step she took across the office spoke volumes about their jelly-like density. Now that he'd seen her topless, all Roger wanted to do was repeat the masturbatory eruption he had made on her bra, but directly onto her bare breasts instead, while she willingly encouraged him the way Uschi did. But his achingly overwrought cock said no.

Alice had chosen to show off her succulent F-cup wares in a smart blouse of seersucker pinstripe. Though tailored and fitted in cut and design, it appeared to have been done so with a much smaller bustline in mind, as large gaps yawned open between the taut-fastened buttons, revealing gaping lengths of dark, deep cleavage that writhed and wobbled bralessly as the young woman walked. Her small, stiff nipples stood out conspicuously beneath the cotton, and stress lines radiated outwards as far as her narrow shoulders and slim waist where the blouse was tucked tightly into a grey knee-length skirt. Roger did his best not to stare into those wide open vaginal gaps between her buttons as they seemed to invite his cock to penetrate deep within the bare skin cleft they presented. But not today. Roger's crippled cock was having none of it.

Roger shot a glance across at Vanessa to see if she was taking the bait. But she was engrossed in her e-mails, or social media, and wasn't paying attention.

Susan entered the office, seemingly still half asleep, then stopped dead in her tracks when she clocked Sarah's unfettered udders wobbling their way from the printer. She had obviously forgotten about the bra amnesty, as her dark bra was showing clearly through a thin pink blouse. Alice saw her and wagged a discreet chiding finger in her direction. Susan made a detour to the girls' restroom.

Selina was next in, the only clue her own solid breasts gave to a lack of underwear being the prominence of her thick, pregnant nipples through her favourite sailor-striped top. Roger's mind raced to the live bra sizing he had carried out in the company auditorium, to the young mother-to-be's sudden abandoning of her usual physical modesty in stripping topless before her manager and peers. The busty fashion model Shelley had been on hand directly thereafter to afford him badly-needed relief within her cleavage, but Roger's brain craved Selina's cleavage to provide the appropriate closure, a desire his still-exhausted genitals were painfully reluctant to acknowledge. 'Morning, Roger,' chirruped Selina in theatrical innocence, taking her seat at the desk next to him and offering a glimpse of firm, dangling boob dowm her top as she stooped to stash handbag beneath desk.

Susan reemerged from the bathroom at the same time as Kathrin walked out of the elevator, and it was difficult to know where to look. Having forgotten the agreement to go braless, she could hardly have chosen a more revealing blouse. Practically the same colour as her skin, the statuesque Canadian's chewy toffee nipples were all but entirely visible in thick, dark, erect contrast with her breast flesh, right down to the prickly ring of alluring goosebumps that graced her lush areolae. Even the details of her bosom that weren't in direct contact with the translucent fabric showed through, like the shadowy curves where the bulging undersides of her voluptuous globes met her lower ribcage. And to cap it all Susan's breasts were almost as bouncy as Kathrin's, and nearly as large too, if not more proportionate to Susan's larger frame.

But if anything was going to deflect attention from Susan's near-nude bosom, it was Kathrin, walking calmly a few steps behind her. There was no denying whatsoever that Kathrin had got the memo about coming to work sans bra. The high-turtle-necked, sleeveless beige top she had gone for was fully opaque, but even then her nipples looked even more nude than Susan's. It was as though she had simply sprayed beige paint over her body. Her thick nipples atop their hillocked areolae stood out with fierce feminine pride. The material of the top, where once it had presumably been stretched taut into the slim high waistband of Kathrin's tartan flared trousers, had been pulled up by the lofty heave and surge of her firm, outsized bust, and was now wrinkled and creased tightly into the horizontal nook where bosom met chest in with such geometric perfection, baring her cute stomach and dimpled bellybutton for all to see.

Vanessa did a double-take that coincided with the double-take in Roger's pants, his feeble penis attempting twice to acknowledge the spectacle Roger was witnessing, but failing pathetically to do so. For Roger was now so far advanced in his desire for Kathrin that all he could think about was that briefest of moments in the communal Frankfurt shower when the tip of his thickening cock had lodged itself against the tight, impenetrable opening to the busty young woman's intimacy. He wanted to know what it felt like to fuck a woman, and while there was no doubt in his mind that he would, before long, be losing his long overdue middle-aged, balding virginity to the lovely Uschi, he could think of that only as practice for the holy, busty grail of thrusting himself as far as he could into Fraulein Kathrin Fischer.

Vanessa looked like she was about to say something, then gave one of the shrugs that were her answer to everything and principal form of communication in general, and returned to clicking the mouse and staring at the computer screen, her own soft globes half on the desk, half hanging off the edge, cleavage mounding toward her pointed chin.

Finally, Uschi jiggled in, in her violet wraparound dress, luscious mounds of boob swelling out either side of the taut neckline that stretched diagonally through her natural cleavage. Such was the power of her physical allure that Roger, despite having suffered chronic overexposure to it over the past forty-eight hours, still found his lust piqued in her presence. Perhaps it was now a Pavlovian reaction, more than anything else. Uschi was beaming smugly, presumably anticipating an extreme reaction from Vanessa, but the smile fell from her face as she joined the others in the realisation that Vanessa was unperturbed.

When, at one point during the morning, Vanessa traipsed to the ladies' loos, Uschi stood and loomed over the group of desks, lowering her German-accented voice to a hoarse whisper. 'It's not working,' she said. The girls frowned, mulling the problem.

'Maybe she's not noticed,' said Alice.

'I didn't come to work looking like this for Vanessa not to notice,' whispered Kathrin, indicating her prominent braless nipples with manicured fingers. 'The looks I got on the way here! The comments!'

'I had babies ogling mine from prams,' chimed Selina. 'They have a sixth sense.'

Susan stood and thrust forth her own braless bosom, vividly visible through her translucent pink blouse. 'How do you think I feel? I may as well be completely topless!'

'Ladies,' said Roger. 'I think you may have to accept that Uschi's plan hasn't worked. Vanessa doesn't care what you do, or how you dress. All you're doing is making her feel that how she dresses is normal.'

Uschi scowled. 'I refuse to accept that,' she said. 'We should keep trying. For the rest of the day, let's really make her notice how braless we all are. I want to see jiggling and bouncing, erect nipples, boobs bouncing out of tops. She has to understand what a distraction she is.'

Roger's heart thumped. His groin wasn't aching the way it had in the morning. He feared that Uschi's ramping up of the protest was going to coincide explosively with the return of his reproductive powers.

Vanessa returned from the toilets, and Uschi stood to go herself. In passing Vanessa, she allowed her own, violet-shrouded bosom to collide bouncily against the Frenchwoman's thin arm. 'Oops, sorry,' said Uschi, then turned to wink at the rest of the office behind Vanessa's back. Vanessa continued to walk, large-breastedly, back to her desk, still deadpan.

At one point, Alice stood and yawned theatrically, stretching her arms out and thrusting forth her chest until the top two buttons of her starched blouse popped off, leaving her with a cleavage that stretched almost all the entire length of her bust. 'Ooh, now how did that happen,' she said loudly. 'I wish I'd worn a bra today, these puppies are going to be jiggling all over the place!' But Vanessa didn't react.

Susan, attempting her own attention-seeking move, feigned clumsiness by spilling a glass of water over her bosom, rendering her already sheer blouse completely transparent, her dark nipples erecting still further from the cold, the wet material clinging to her every voluptuous curve. 'Oh my,' she declared, standing to make sure everyone could see. 'Look what I've done.' Everyone looked and stared, except Vanessa, who looked and then looked back at her screen. 'I've gone and spilt water all over myself.'

'Oh no, Susan,' said Sarah, joining the charade and looking around for support. 'Now we can all see your nipples!'

'Are you not wearing a bra, Susan?' said Alice, acting badly.

'No,' shrugged Susan. 'I'm sorry, Roger, this must be a terrible distraction for you.'

'Quite alright,' said Roger. The sight of Susan's nipples through her blouse transported him to the brief moment of drunken titplay he had enjoyed in her apartment. 'These things happen.'

'Thanks, Roger,' said Susan. 'So you won't mind if I take this off and hang it up to dry?' Without waiting for a reply, Susan unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall from her shoulders, letting her large, bare, dripping wet breasts wobble free, her dark nipples returning the gaze of everyone in the room. Now completely topless, she crossed the room to the hatstand by the lockers and hung the wet blouse on a coat hanger. Her bosom swayed and quivered ponderously as she walked. Vanessa glanced up, probably more out of nosiness than anything else. Unimpressed, she returned to her work like she had seen it all before.

Sarah complained of the heat and changed her top in front of everyone, blushing and apologising for exposing her pink-nippled breasts to everyone in the process, as she had "forgotten" to wear a bra. Selina made a show of preparing for breastfeeding, by pulling the neckline of her top down and hefting forth a heavy, milk-swollen breast. Kathrin attempted to swat an imaginary fly with a magazine, chasing the fictitious insect around the office with outrageous bust-bouncing enthusiasm. But nothing the girls could do could get the expected reaction of shock, disgust, and self-awareness from Vanessa.

Vanessa went home early, as she had got in early, and sauntered out of the office without saying goodbye.

Susan retrieved her now dry shirt and put it back on, buttoning it despondently over her heaving bare bosom. 'Well, that was a waste of time,' she huffed. 'At least you got a good show out of it, Roger.'

'I can assure you I didn't enjoy a single minute of it,' lied Roger, whose cock was now very erect indeed inside his trousers. The novelty of Susan's toplessness had indeed worn off, as Uschi had predicted, but that didn't stop him from now speculating as to what a titwank might feel like from the well-endowed Canadian. His urges were becoming more base, more visceral.

'Well, I hope you've learned your lesson then,' said Uschi. 'After all, the point of this wasn't just to put pressure on Vanessa, but to put pressure on you, too. Imagine if we did this every day.'

'I don't want to do this every day,' said Alice, massaging her breasts with a frown. 'It sounds like a good idea when you think about it, but my boobs hurt from all the bouncing. I'm too busty to go braless. I don't know how Vanessa copes.'

Roger stood, forgetting about his boner which hit the edge of the desk loudly and painfully. Kathrin glanced down at it, then quickly looked back up. 'Look, I take your point, everyone,' Roger said, hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. 'You don't need to go to all these lengths. I'll deal with Vanessa, I promise.'

Back at home, Roger lay on the bed and carefully extracted his dick, which had recovered from the weekend's excesses and was now throbbing in anticipation of release while Roger tried to make sense of the confusing sexual feelings in his mind. Where once he would have a regular dripfeed of discreetly suggestive busty entertainment, he was now so bombarded with stimuli catering directly to his fetish that he wasn't even sure why he was getting turned on any more. His fantasies had dwelt for years on the slow tease of a clothed bosom, but now his mind was filled with altogether more explicit desires, scenarios of titwanking and full penetrative intercourse with his own co-workers. Perhaps this had been part of Uschi's plan too, and perhaps it hadn't, and though either way it made him feel uncomfortable with himself, that didn't seem to help get rid of his erection. He was still going to need release, and was contemplating an evening meditating upon the bosom of Vanessa, assisted if necessary by the hand he used so rarely for masturbatory purposes, when the doorbell rang. It was Uschi.

'Uschi, really, not tonight...' Roger began, as Uschi swept past him, still braless beneath that gorgeous violet wraparound number, her full breasts animated with minds of their own.

'How did you cope today?' Uschi asked. 'I noticed the boner at the end of the day... and I see you still have it.'

'I was just going to have a wank and go to bed,' said Roger.

'You must have wanted to cum so many times today,' grinned Uschi. 'Can you believe Susan spending the whole afternoon topless? Those big titties all nude before your eyes? And Selina sitting there for ages with one boob out. And how about those big bouncy jugs of Kathrin's? They're your favourite, I know.' She winked fruitily.

'I wanted to, but I couldn't. Your weekend plan worked. And I even got used to Susan's breasts being naked. So you're right, Uschi. You're right.'

'But you still need to cum, don't you? And all that's left to feed that filthy imagination of yours is Vanessa's tits. Am I right?'

Roger sighed. 'Yes, I was just about to make myself cum thinking about them.' There was no point lying to Uschi any more.

Uschi sat down and crossed her fine legs, hands commanding on the armrests. 'I have an idea how we can finally get you that final bra size,' she said. 'The company clothing policy. Kathrin signed an employment contract, and she will have agreed to a dress code.'

'There's nothing in the dress code specifically about wearing a bra,' said Roger, pacing the living room wearly, his erection prodding hugely at his trousers. 'That's why everyone sat through those clothing guidelines on Women's Day, don't you remember? If it were a rule they wouldn't have to give all that advice, it would simply be enforced.'

'How do you know it's not in the contract?'

'Because... I'd remember. I'm a manager, I've had HR training.'

'I didn't read my employment contract that thoroughly,' said Uschi. 'And even if I did, it was years ago, I'd never remember it now.'

'Where are you going with this,' said Roger, sensing a scheme.

'How about this,' said Uschi, leaning forward, cleavage bulging in a way that added another fraction of an inch to Roger's boner. 'What if it were contractually agreed that any employee with breasts larger than, say, a D-cup, has to wear a bra in the office. And that to avoid dismissal, you have to prove your breasts are smaller than that.'

'So, Vanessa would simply just start coming in wearing a bra. I don't see how that helps.'

'She doesn't own a bra, Roger, we both know that. And you just have to explain that the breast size needs to be affirmed by a director of the company, or something, and then you take her into a private room and measure her yourself!'

'I've never heard anything so immoral in all my life!' said Roger.

'But I saw your cock twitch as I said it,' said Uschi. 'Admit it, you want to do this. Just think of Vanessa's tits. Getting your hands all over them. Seeing those nipples for the first time. Finally finishing your bra spreadsheet.'

'I don't want to finish the bra spreadsheet!' shouted Roger. 'I need it! It's the only thing stopping me from... from turning into some kind of sex monster!'

Uschi cackled. 'So it's a yes. Come on, let's draft this thing.'

'Can I have a titfuck first, please,' Roger asked pathetically.

'Oh no no no,' Uschi wagged a finger. 'I need you horny enough to go along with this.'

And so the two sat up for a few hours at Roger's laptop with an editable pro forma employment contract, adding new paragraphs going into great detail on the company's contractually enforced policy on wearing a bra on the company premises. When Uschi finally left to go home, Roger felt he had crossed a dangerous threshold into sackable territory.

But he still craved Vanessa's tits.

'What ze fuck,' said Vanessa, alone in the quiet meeting room with Roger the next morning. He had summoned her first thing, and placed the cleverly counterfeited version of Vanessa's signed employment contract on the table for her to read. He and Uschi had got in early and photocopied it multiple times to give it that aged look, and forged Vanessa's signature. Roger hated himself for still being such a slave to his breast fetish, and to Uschi.

'You may not remember, Vanessa,' said Roger, 'Or perhaps you didn't read it carefully enough, but your contract does say that any female employee with D-cup or above breasts, has to wear a bra or face dismissal. I'm sorry to break it to you like this, but HR are coming down hard on this policy at the moment, and if you don't go along with this then I'm afraid I'm going to have to speak to them about it. You've had several warnings from me about this in the past, verbal and written.'

'You cannot prove I am bigger zan a D-cup,' Vanessa spat, tossing her long straight brown hair back in defiance, her braless bosom careening beneath the tight green vest top she had chosen to wear that day. 'I simply deny it. I am a 32C, or whatever.'

'I'm afraid the burden of proof is upon you, Vanessa,' Roger said, pointing to the relevant fake paragraph in the document. 'It says here that in the absence of evidence, your manager has to take the measurements.'

'You?' Vanessa gave an empty laugh. 'You gonna feel me up like you did Selina?'

'If I have to,' said Roger. 'I'm sorry, it's company policy.'

Vanessa went silent, thinking this over. There seemed to be no way out.

'I take my chances,' she said. 'Maybe my tits are not as big as zey look.'

'Great,' said Roger. 'Now, we'll need a female chaperone, obviously.'

'Obviously.'

'This is both for compliance reasons, but also, as you'll see, there's a line in the contract stating that a male manager carrying out the measurements is entitled to relief in the event of overarousal.'

Vanessa's face contorted in disbelief, but Roger pointed to the contract, and there it was in carefully forged black and white. 'Zis place is crazy,' she murmured, as she read. 'And you are worried my tits, zey will arouse you?'

'Who knows,' shrugged Roger, and pulled a tape measure from his jacket pocket. 'Anyway, let me get one of the girls in to oversee. How about Uschi?'

'I don't care,' said Vanessa, and kicked about the meeting room while Roger went to fetch his German co-conspirator.

'Uschi,' he called out into the office, 'A moment of your time, please.' Uschi skipped happily into the room and Roger closed the door again on the threesome.

'I hope you don't mind, Uschi,' said Roger, while Uschi acted the part of the uninitiate. 'But I need to measure Vanessa's bust to ensure it is compliant with the company dress policy, and we need a chaperone. Would you mind sitting in on this now?'

'Happy to help,' said Uschi.

Roger continued. 'And one more thing, rather delicate matter this. Seeing as the prolonged exposure to Vanessa's naked breasts may put me in a... rather compromising position, do you mind assisting with manual relief as necessary?'

Uschi laughed kindly. 'Of course I don't mind, Roger, we've known each other a long time. And of course it's nothing I've not seen before, not after our visit to the sauna!'

Roger laughed along. Vanessa looked at them both as though they were stark raving mad.

'This shouldn't take long,' said Roger, thinking mainly of how quickly he was likely to cum. 'Uschi, if you could get my penis out of my trousers please, and Vanessa kindly remove your top.'

Vanessa rolled her eyes and complied, grabbing the hem of her top and peeling it up, up, up over her head. As though in slow motion, her ample French breasts wobbled free, jiggling wildly while she wrestled her long hair through the green top. Each bountiful globe was the size and approximate shape of a watermelon, lightly tanned from the weekend spell in the continental sun, and each graced with wide, pale areolae and soft pink nipples at their centres, pointing directly forward at each boob's swelling summit. Without the green top to hold them together they spread out pleasantly, but not so far as to separate the tight cleavage between them, which remained deep, narrow, and seemingly impenetrable, although as Roger's mind filled with fantasies, he knew that his cock would slice into it like a knife through butter.

She put her hands on her slim hips, the huge, soft twin blimps of her bosom swaying in silence. 'Well,' she said. 'What are you waiting for?'

Roger couldn't believe how easy this had been. Uschi had come up with the goods once again, and although this was certainly a first step on the road to disciplinary action for Roger, in this particular moment it felt entirely worth it. Vanessa's breasts were nothing short of miraculous. Even Uschi was awestruck, hesitating briefly in her fumblings with Roger's belt and trousers.

Out sprang Roger's erection, thick and veined, the perfect oversized match for Vanessa's oversized bare breasts. Vanessa's jaw dropped. 'You were right, Uschi,' she managed to say after gaping at Roger's surprising endowment. 'It is 'uge!'

'Sorry Roger,' said Uschi. 'Kathrin and I told everyone about your dick after the Frankfurt trip.'

Vanessa seemed very different now. Her Gallic indifference was giving way to a kind of nervous excitement. She couldn't take her eyes off Roger's stiff, distended cock any more than he could take his eyes off her heaving melon breasts.

Uschi placed a soothing hand on that throbbing, glistening shaft. 'Roger, judging by how hard your cock is, are we to assume that you require your contractual relief entitlement?'

'My tits did zis?' said Vanessa, in what seemed like genuine surprise.

'Perhaps in France breasts like yours are commonplace,' said Roger. 'But here... here they just make men want to cum and cum.'

'Show me,' said Vanessa. She bit her lip and watched the tip of Roger's erection, its throbbing helmet the size and colour of a ripe plum. 'French men, zey prefer ze small titties. I 'ave never experienced zis English fetish. It is... interesting.'

Uschi was about to begin stroking Roger's cock when a brief musical motif rang out. 'Oops, my mobile,' she said, letting go of the desperate member to retrieve the phone from her pocket. 'I have to get this. Vanessa, would you mind taking over?' Uschi stood and walked to the opposite corner of the room, talking quietly into her phone.

Vanessa rubbed her hands together, squashing and wobbling her enormous jugs with her arms as she did so. Roger's heart thumped fast as the skinny French tit-queen descended to her knees in front of him.

'Use your tits,' Roger heard himself say. 'Rub it with your tits.'

'Like zis?' Vanessa took her heavy breasts in her small, bony hands, her fingers disappearing into heavenly, pillowy indentations in the soft flesh. Prising them apart, she approached until Roger's erection was almost touching her breastbone. Then she sandwiched her tits together again, trapping the hungry dick tight within, the gaping tip of his plum helmet emerging above, his full, heavy balls dangling beneath. 'I must confess, I 'ave never done zis before.'

Four bolts of pressurized sperm pelted Vanessa on the chin in the space of three seconds. She threw her head back in alarm, while fifth and sixth payloads shot high into the air, descending stickily onto Vanessa's angular face.

'Fuck,' gasped Roger, 'I wasn't expecting that.'

'Neither was I,' said Vanessa through a gloopy lipload of semen strands. She withdrew slowly, but the friction of the retreating breastmeat provoked further issuance from Roger's happy cock, pumping freely into the heavily wobbling cleavage. A thick drape of white cum stretched from the spasmodic organ to Vanessa's lustrous, exquisitely-formed bosom as she stood and took a couple of steps back. 'Are you finished now?'

Roger nodded, dizzy. 'I think so,' he said, adding rather dumbly, 'Thanks for that.'

Uschi, phone conversation finished (even if it had been real and not tactically staged), returned and handed Vanessa the box of tissues from the sideboard. 'Good work, Vanessa,' she said, helping the cum-strewn girl mop up. 'You've well and truly drained him. He can now go about the bra measurements without getting horny.'

'Are you sure?' asked Vanessa, placing a semen-sodden Kleenex on the table and reaching for a fresh one. 'He's still got zat big erection.'

'Residual arousal,' said Uschi with an air of professional expertise. 'But we can try wanking him off again in a minute to be sure.'

Roger fastened his belt, leaving his cock sticking rudely out of his open flies. He couldn't be bothered with the usual aggravation of trying to fit that big stupid cock of his into his trousers, all he wanted to do was down to the business of sizing up those fresh young French bazoomas, and in any case he was feeling a second orgasm surge already within his barely-depleted ballsack.

'Raise your arm please, Vanessa,' he said. The girl complied, the action causing her enormous breasts, now criss-crossed with silvery trails of drying sperm residue, to elevate to even loftier altitude. Her flat nipples stared upwards and outwards, the slight crease beneath her voluptuous jugs spread upwards, the swell of her breasts now an uninterrupted curve billowing outwards with no sag whatsoever.

He took the tape measure and past it around Vanessa's svelte ribcage, inhaling the sweet, pungent air of his own emissions exuding from the warm, jiggly mass of tit inches from his face. 26 inches. 'Your band size is 30,' said Roger. He had done his homework.

'Zat does not sound so big,' sniffed Vanessa.

'But now we measure the cup size, that's the important part where your employment contract is concerned,' said Roger. His cock stiffened and yearned upwards again toward those pillowy orbs. His actions now dictated entirely by his horny dick, he found himself placing his hands on Vanessa's breasts. They felt incredible, a unique mixture of soft and firm. 'Please keep your arms in the air,' he muttered, his breathing getting heavy as his palms and fingers explored Vanessa's ample naked chest.

'Is zis part of ze measuring procedure?' asked Vanessa doubtfully.

'Um, yes,' said Roger, then focused his mind once again on the task in hand and passed the measuring tape around Vanessa's back and over the fullest, outermost circumference of her proudly jutting bosom, just beneath her high-set, soft nipples. He read the measurement, then read it again. Forty-four fucking inches. That made her a size thirty K. 'Uschi, your assistance please.'

Uschi gleefully resumed her position at Roger's side and grabbed his cock with a deft hand.

'What?' said Vanessa, lowering her arms as Roger took the measuring tape from her boobs and set it woozily to one side. 'What did it say? You need to cum again? Already?'

'Jiggle them,' said Uschi, stroking Roger's twitchy shaft up and down, the still-slick semen providing convenient lubrication.

'Jiggle...?'

'Your tits. Like this.' Uschi gave her own a shimmy by way of demonstration as she wanked Roger off. 'It will help finish him off quicker.'

'Ah, I see,' said Vanessa. 'Like so?' And, gyrating her shoulders she set her wobbly breasts into the wildest, sexiest shake that either Roger or Uschi had ever seen. The soft, perky, outsized globes quivered and undulated in vast figure of eight movements, colliding loudly with one another as they followed their independent trajectories.

'Oh Christ,' panted Roger. 'Oh fuck! Your tits! They're too much, Vanessa!' He felt the orgasm build, under Uschi's practised direction. A rush of pleasure coursed through his body, his testicles began to quiver under the mounting pressure. 'Ungghhh!' Uschi's fingers were manipulating the purple crown of his boner when the multisensory levels of arousal peaked, overloading his organ which geysered its second series of cumloads in powerful, plentiful fountains of cream, all of which splattered onto Vanessa's turbulent shelf of careening tit, before partly ricocheting off around the room.

Vanessa, still reacting in a way neither Roger nor Uschi could have expected, descended once again to allow her heavy globes to jostle and tumble around the long, thick cock that continued to spunk into her tight, wobbling cleavage while Uschi slowly wanked the base of its shaft, her hand thumping back and forth between Roger's draining balls and Vanessa's jiggly jugs. 'Roger, I had no clue zat my bosoms had zis effect on you. You should have said long ago.'

Fully spent, Roger staggered backwards into a chair. His cock, finally wilting, lolled, long, thick, and rubbery, from his trousers while his balls shriveled and retreated, tight and wrinkled.

'So?' said Vanessa, running a hand through her long straight hair as her jugs jounced to a gradual standstill above her flat stomach. 'What's ze bra size?'

Uschi looked at Roger, too, awaiting the outcome with interest.

Roger furrowed his brow, the onset of a migraine troubling him. 'You've nothing to worry about,' he said with a weak smile. 'You're a size 30C. Well under the limit. So you may continue to come to work braless as often as you please, with no fear of reprisal.'

Uschi raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her substantial, tailored bosom.

'Is zat all?' said Vanessa, looking down at her huge K-cup tits. 'English bra sizes. I will never understand zem.' And with that, she wiped the fresh cum from her tits, stretched her green vest back over them, licked her salty lips and left the meeting room, bosom bouncing as nature intended.

'Well,' said Uschi to Roger, now that the two of them were alone again. 'Our little project is nearly finished. You've now seen the whole team's tits, and you can conplete your little spreadsheet of bra and nipple sizes. All that's left is my bra size, and then it's all over. How do you feel?'

Roger stared at her. 'Horny,' he said.

rather write a book

Haha, good one, tell LCTF...

thanks for posting this series

really enjoying so far