kuririnsan22
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. . a subtle distraction . . .
recently, I took on a late-night side gig that ultimately added all sorts of rag-tag characters to my social circle, and vice versa. Long story-short, I got two new random women coming over my house at night, at the same time . . to casually mention how they have so much soreness in their backs and shoulders. These two women are both full figured, some-what single, Black, 20-somethings who both lamented—again casually—about the physical turmoil of having “these big ass titties” (their words).
So of course, I oblige with offering massages to both of them. Let's say they are named K and B. K was the first I gave a massage to. K, the thirstier one of the two and who had initiated this trio scenario, claimed to be a JJ cup in passing previously on a thick 5'5, 200-pound frame. My hands and fingers sank deep into her soft shoulders, haunches, back, and under-carriage. “Does this bitch even have bones in her body?” I thought as I unpacked the rolls on this bitch. Both women were in the room for this first massage, so as I kneaded K from behind with her seated on the floor below me, I was careful to not try anything too creepy—staying clear of obvious titty groping.
Next. Round Two.
Now it was B's turn. She was K's homegirl; maybe an inch shorter but sporting a cup size comparable to her friend, on a much slimmer figure. For her massage, I suggested that B and I go into my bedroom. After all, I cannot very well give her the FULL experience without giving her the chance to lie down and get comfortable, right? “ This is the DELUXE package. They normally charge real cash for this, but you can get it for free this one time”
With a little persuasion, B is laying out on my bed, face-down, with K watching TV in the next room. Saddle up. I kneel over and eventually sit on top of her denim-clad, bubble booty as I massage her sides, back, shoulder, and side-boob. Thick bra straps push through from the other side of her t-shirt as she lays there relaxing. With her friend in the other room, Im a rude boy—pay close attention to any and all parts of her full, heavy, high-sitting titties that are squishing out from the sides of her body. She just giggles and sighs softly (B is a ratchet type, but ive been taming tigers for years).
I then tell her to turn over so I can massage the front “to complete the package, babe.” She giggles at my suggestion and she rears up onto her elbows slowly. The GATES are open. My working hands work their way around her huge, round melons and cup them as she mutters about her friend in the next room. Her big brown breasts fill my palms as I knead them like peaches from behind. Her cleavage swelled and jiggled upto and out of the top of the loose neckline on her t-shirt. I started giving her pecks on her cheek, when I hear “Hey yall, its time for me to go,” from K in the next room. Juicy, soft titties in-hand (easily G cups on first estimate), B retorts that “I guess we should go.”
They both get up, put their shit on, and slowly leave.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .. . .
recently, I took on a late-night side gig that ultimately added all sorts of rag-tag characters to my social circle, and vice versa. Long story-short, I got two new random women coming over my house at night, at the same time . . to casually mention how they have so much soreness in their backs and shoulders. These two women are both full figured, some-what single, Black, 20-somethings who both lamented—again casually—about the physical turmoil of having “these big ass titties” (their words).
So of course, I oblige with offering massages to both of them. Let's say they are named K and B. K was the first I gave a massage to. K, the thirstier one of the two and who had initiated this trio scenario, claimed to be a JJ cup in passing previously on a thick 5'5, 200-pound frame. My hands and fingers sank deep into her soft shoulders, haunches, back, and under-carriage. “Does this bitch even have bones in her body?” I thought as I unpacked the rolls on this bitch. Both women were in the room for this first massage, so as I kneaded K from behind with her seated on the floor below me, I was careful to not try anything too creepy—staying clear of obvious titty groping.
Next. Round Two.
Now it was B's turn. She was K's homegirl; maybe an inch shorter but sporting a cup size comparable to her friend, on a much slimmer figure. For her massage, I suggested that B and I go into my bedroom. After all, I cannot very well give her the FULL experience without giving her the chance to lie down and get comfortable, right? “ This is the DELUXE package. They normally charge real cash for this, but you can get it for free this one time”
With a little persuasion, B is laying out on my bed, face-down, with K watching TV in the next room. Saddle up. I kneel over and eventually sit on top of her denim-clad, bubble booty as I massage her sides, back, shoulder, and side-boob. Thick bra straps push through from the other side of her t-shirt as she lays there relaxing. With her friend in the other room, Im a rude boy—pay close attention to any and all parts of her full, heavy, high-sitting titties that are squishing out from the sides of her body. She just giggles and sighs softly (B is a ratchet type, but ive been taming tigers for years).
I then tell her to turn over so I can massage the front “to complete the package, babe.” She giggles at my suggestion and she rears up onto her elbows slowly. The GATES are open. My working hands work their way around her huge, round melons and cup them as she mutters about her friend in the next room. Her big brown breasts fill my palms as I knead them like peaches from behind. Her cleavage swelled and jiggled upto and out of the top of the loose neckline on her t-shirt. I started giving her pecks on her cheek, when I hear “Hey yall, its time for me to go,” from K in the next room. Juicy, soft titties in-hand (easily G cups on first estimate), B retorts that “I guess we should go.”
They both get up, put their shit on, and slowly leave.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .. . .
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