Torpius
Boob Connoisseur
- Joined
- Jan 7, 2012
- Messages
- 525
- Reaction score
- 1,496
At Work
In the middle of the 90s I worked at an office with about 40 people in total in and about. This is quite a strange story, it happened during a month of my life, but I remember it clearly and with passion.
The cleaning lady couldn't quite keep up, so the boss accepted an offer from an employment office and got an extra woman to help clean the office. I've forgotten her name, but lets call her Ingrid. She was in her mid forties, I was ten years younger.
She was a bit handicapped, her left arm was somewhat paralyzed, her left leg also. She had a bad limp as she walked. Her hair was dark, short and her face rather plain. Body normal, long legs, narrow hips.
The one thing that set her apart from the rather gloomy picture I've drawn so far, was her enormous bosom. It was too large, really. Hanging over her belt.
It was her walking that piqued my interest, limping, moving strangely in her own rhythm as she did her work. Her handicap came through a brain infarction in the 80s, otherwise she was perfectly normal, I learnt.
Her bosom moved incredibly as she walked, it would have take a mathematical deep study to describe her breasts movements up, down, sideways and forward as she moved about. When I've noticed this I'd try to be were she walked to see the spectacle.
She knew that her breasts was out of control, but after a period of trying to hide them, she no longer cared about it, she said later on. With breasts bigger than basketballs, it's hard to hide them.
I tried to talk to her, she was shy and quiet, her answers short and uninteresting. She'd clean my office often when I was there, but as I said, the shyness made it difficult. I sat with an enormous hard-on all time.
One night I made a mistake though, she wore a tight yellow top, no sweater as she worked hard, her enormous breasts were swinging hard, I could even see her swollen nipples pressing through the cloth. I almost started to touch myself seeing the show. The blouse had v-neck and due to the size of her breasts, there was at least 6 inches of cleavage visible. Unbelievable!! The bra was huge indeed, but too small. The overflow was massive, especially when she bowed down working. I was quietly ecstatic, unable to work while she was there.
I was talking to her, trying to joke, just getting an excuse to watch her. She smiled minimally, didn't look at me more than necessary. Frustrated I hear myself saying:
-Would you like a cup of coffee, Ingrid, I want some?
-Yes, she said and looked at me briefly, with milk.
-Yes, alright, with breast milk, I'll get some.
-No, John, ordinary milk will do, she said, smiling briefly.
-I'm sorry, I just admired your..., I said, blushing deeply.
-Breasts, you mean, John, she said, looking at me, my ugly breasts, you mean!
-No, yes, your breasts, but they are not ugly, they are beautiful.
-Liar, she said, bully, as always, skip the coffee, I'm finished here.
-I mean what I say, they are beautiful, Ingrid!
-No, she said, but just stood there, unmoving. She watched my groin, blushed and looked away. So I still had a hard-on...
I fetched the coffee, half expecting her to be gone, but she sat in the sofa, still blushing. Her yellow bloused tits resting on her thighs. We drank in silence, then she started talking in a small voice.
She told me in short bursts of words of the ban of her life. Breasts started to grow when she was nine years old, c-cup at eleven, mercilessly bullied by her classmates, d-cup at fourteen, all the boys grabbed at her tits, even one teacher, forcing her to blow him off.
-So what do you want from me, she said to me, dead serious.
-Only your tale, Ingrid, and that you believe that I find you beautiful.
She shook her head, but smiled and drank some coffee. Suddenly she let her hand slide down the expanse of her right breast, up again, caressing the nipple, made it hard, looking at me all the time.
She continued talking, caressing her heavy breasts, lightly. Telling me about the teacher, seducing her, two times, and she was pregnant. He paid for the kid. Her breasts swelled with milk, g-cups, maybe more. Didn't shrink after the daughter stopped breastfeeding. She was fifteen with huge breasts and no one wanted her, as she had a daughter.
-Do you want more, I have some cleaning to do?, she said and gave me the empty cup. She laughed quietly and said, if you want, you can watch me cleaning, you seem to like watching me.
Then and there begun our strange relationship. I followed her into three more offices, sat and watched her work. She made her heavy breasts swing and move. I watched and caressed my stiff member, but didn't unzip or exposed myself. Her nipples were hard and visible, her face happy. She watched me as I sat there.
When finished she said goodnight and went away.
To be continued
In the middle of the 90s I worked at an office with about 40 people in total in and about. This is quite a strange story, it happened during a month of my life, but I remember it clearly and with passion.
The cleaning lady couldn't quite keep up, so the boss accepted an offer from an employment office and got an extra woman to help clean the office. I've forgotten her name, but lets call her Ingrid. She was in her mid forties, I was ten years younger.
She was a bit handicapped, her left arm was somewhat paralyzed, her left leg also. She had a bad limp as she walked. Her hair was dark, short and her face rather plain. Body normal, long legs, narrow hips.
The one thing that set her apart from the rather gloomy picture I've drawn so far, was her enormous bosom. It was too large, really. Hanging over her belt.
It was her walking that piqued my interest, limping, moving strangely in her own rhythm as she did her work. Her handicap came through a brain infarction in the 80s, otherwise she was perfectly normal, I learnt.
Her bosom moved incredibly as she walked, it would have take a mathematical deep study to describe her breasts movements up, down, sideways and forward as she moved about. When I've noticed this I'd try to be were she walked to see the spectacle.
She knew that her breasts was out of control, but after a period of trying to hide them, she no longer cared about it, she said later on. With breasts bigger than basketballs, it's hard to hide them.
I tried to talk to her, she was shy and quiet, her answers short and uninteresting. She'd clean my office often when I was there, but as I said, the shyness made it difficult. I sat with an enormous hard-on all time.
One night I made a mistake though, she wore a tight yellow top, no sweater as she worked hard, her enormous breasts were swinging hard, I could even see her swollen nipples pressing through the cloth. I almost started to touch myself seeing the show. The blouse had v-neck and due to the size of her breasts, there was at least 6 inches of cleavage visible. Unbelievable!! The bra was huge indeed, but too small. The overflow was massive, especially when she bowed down working. I was quietly ecstatic, unable to work while she was there.
I was talking to her, trying to joke, just getting an excuse to watch her. She smiled minimally, didn't look at me more than necessary. Frustrated I hear myself saying:
-Would you like a cup of coffee, Ingrid, I want some?
-Yes, she said and looked at me briefly, with milk.
-Yes, alright, with breast milk, I'll get some.
-No, John, ordinary milk will do, she said, smiling briefly.
-I'm sorry, I just admired your..., I said, blushing deeply.
-Breasts, you mean, John, she said, looking at me, my ugly breasts, you mean!
-No, yes, your breasts, but they are not ugly, they are beautiful.
-Liar, she said, bully, as always, skip the coffee, I'm finished here.
-I mean what I say, they are beautiful, Ingrid!
-No, she said, but just stood there, unmoving. She watched my groin, blushed and looked away. So I still had a hard-on...
I fetched the coffee, half expecting her to be gone, but she sat in the sofa, still blushing. Her yellow bloused tits resting on her thighs. We drank in silence, then she started talking in a small voice.
She told me in short bursts of words of the ban of her life. Breasts started to grow when she was nine years old, c-cup at eleven, mercilessly bullied by her classmates, d-cup at fourteen, all the boys grabbed at her tits, even one teacher, forcing her to blow him off.
-So what do you want from me, she said to me, dead serious.
-Only your tale, Ingrid, and that you believe that I find you beautiful.
She shook her head, but smiled and drank some coffee. Suddenly she let her hand slide down the expanse of her right breast, up again, caressing the nipple, made it hard, looking at me all the time.
She continued talking, caressing her heavy breasts, lightly. Telling me about the teacher, seducing her, two times, and she was pregnant. He paid for the kid. Her breasts swelled with milk, g-cups, maybe more. Didn't shrink after the daughter stopped breastfeeding. She was fifteen with huge breasts and no one wanted her, as she had a daughter.
-Do you want more, I have some cleaning to do?, she said and gave me the empty cup. She laughed quietly and said, if you want, you can watch me cleaning, you seem to like watching me.
Then and there begun our strange relationship. I followed her into three more offices, sat and watched her work. She made her heavy breasts swing and move. I watched and caressed my stiff member, but didn't unzip or exposed myself. Her nipples were hard and visible, her face happy. She watched me as I sat there.
When finished she said goodnight and went away.
To be continued
