5 comments/ 116345 views/ 5 favorites Best Job By: nolimits Working for a Korean owned company had its benefits. One of which is all the Asian women coming in and out of the office. The enticing part is that Asian women are very interested in Western men. It was another boring day at the office. That was until my boss brought Lisa his 19 year old daughter to the office. She was almost 6 feet high with a great body. Her ass was her best asset. She had a nice pair of tits and took every opportunity to show them off with her low cut blouses she always wore. Today was no exception. She wore a short black skirt with a white blouse. Underneath you could see her black lace bra. She wore a pair of white high rise socks and was the spitting image of a naughty high school girl. If I didn't know better I would have thought that she was still in school. I've always had a crush on her but never did anything about it because of my job situation. It was all about to change. My boss left for a meeting and left me and his daughter all alone. To my surprise she came into my office and locked the door. When I asked her what she was doing she just said to me to be quiet and enjoy the show. And what a show it was. She came over to my desktop computer, looked in the music file and found some Westlife music. She got up and started to dance seductively to the rhythm of the music. To my disbelieve she started to loosen her buttons on her blouse. After a while of dancing and stripping she was only standing in her white socks, black lace bra and matching panties. By that time my cock was at full attention in my pants. She saw the bulge in my pants and said that she will have to do something about it. She came over to my desk and knelt in front of me. She opened my zipper and took out my 8 inch penis that was begging for release. She took it into her mouth and started to suck it like lollipop. She moved her tongue up and down my shaft all the while playing with my balls. In no time at all I was ready to shoot my load. Sensing that I was near she took my cock into her mouth again and push it into her throat. After feeling her throat muscles around my head I could take it any more and shot a big load of cum down her throat. She was surprised at how much cum I was producing but swallowed every last drop. I took my dick out her mouth and some cum dripped out of her mouth onto her chin. She scooped it up and licked it off her fingers. I had to return the favor. I lifted her up and placed her on the desk. She spread her legs for better access to her glory hole. I started to kiss her neck and then our mouths met. We kissed passionately for about three minutes exploring each other mouths. In that time I took off her bra and had a tit in each hand. She gave a load moan when I pinched her nipples between my fingers. I stopped kissing her and moved to her left breast with my mouth, sucking on the small nipple. Lisa took my other hand and placed it between her legs. I was surprised at how wet she was. I pushed my hand inside her panties and found that she was clean shaven. I entered one finger into her slit and worked her clit with my thumb. That did the trick and she was pushing into my hand with great effort. I lifted her off the table to take off her panties. She stopped me and I thought what a bitch she was to get me all worked up and not go all the way. But she opened a small button on the front of her panties and removed a patch in front to reveal her shaven snatch. I instantly got hard again. Not wasting any time I entered a finger into her pussy. Working in and out of her got her really wet and her juices started to flow onto my hand. She whispered into my ear that she needed my cock inside her now. Not wanting to let her down I took out my finger and replaced it with my prick. She was still sitting on the table. It made it easy to enter her. She was extremely wet and I could slide into her with ease. I started a good rhythm and she started to thrust back. She placed her legs around me and forced me deeper into her pussy. I fucked her for at least ten minutes non-stop. Sucking and playing with her tits got a moan out of her. She could feel that I was nearing my orgasm. She started to work her clit with her one hand and with the other played with my nut sack. After another minute we both climax together. Her pussy tightened over my dick setting me off. My dick started to go soft and slipped out of her pussy. She gave me a kiss and got dressed. Before leaving she mentioned to me that she will visit the office the following week. She lifted her skirt and pointed to her ass.... I made a mental note to be nicer to the boss and definitely keep this job. Best. Job. Ever! "Big Tits, Big Dicks and Fantasy Fucking!" ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) The Mid 70's I stepped out onto the sidewalk. The Philadelphia summer was as hot and humid as anything I had felt in 'Nam. I yanked at my tie and unbuttoned my top shirt button. Thanks to the referral from my Accounting Instructor at Community College of Philadelphia I had just been hired! It was the perfect job and it was an income that would help me get thru college without too much debt. I was a sophomore at CCoP, one of the oldest students at CCoP thanks to a couple of tours in the Navy. Being older had helped in the interview. Mrs. Bird, the owner, was clear that she needed someone who would focus on the work, and not the clientele. I had managed to convince her I could be that person. When Mrs. Bird had told me that the shop catered to the "Special needs of our clients and discretion in required!" I had been able to not drool as I told her I could manage that. Stepping a few feet away I paused under the shade of the awning bearing the name and motto of the store Mrs. Bird ran: Burns and Adrian, Corsetiere to the Elite! Flowing, elegant script added class to an already classy enterprise. Corsetiere is fancy talk for women's underwear. Bras, panties, corsets, that sort of thing. As I stood, sweltering, a town car pulled to a smooth stop in front of the shop and the driver popped out to open the rear door. What emerged was a vision such as I had never seen. In her heels the woman was almost as tall as I, a little over 5' 10". She strode to the door, confident in her four inch heels. As she click-clicked across the sidewalk the biggest pair of tits I had ever imagined struggled to free themselves from her tight, v-necked dress. The exposed jiggling masses fought each other for dominance on her chest. The designer may have thought the neckline was modest but this goddesses massive over-abundance overwhelmed any attempt at disguising or restraining the huge ovoids that projected to both sides as well as far, far in front of her. The side view as she entered B&A was staggering. Just hired as the new accountant at the fanciest woman's underwear store on the East Coast and I had just seen the biggest tits EVER march into the shop! And I LOVE women with big tits! I couldn't wait to get started! Being around big breasted women all day was a dream job! +++++++++++++++++++++++++ Six weeks later it was still just a dream. I never saw any of the clients! Mrs. B had put me in an office that had been converted from one of the original fitting rooms before the shop had expanded. The walls were still lined with mirrors and old, outdated samples: Bullet pointy bras from the 50's, lacy nothings from the "braless" 60's. For all I knew there were underwear from the "Flapper" 20's hanging from the hooks! A desk had been jammed into one corner. The window looked out onto the alley between our building and the restaurant behind us. My view was of the always overflowing garbage cans. I kept the shades drawn. At Mrs. B's instruction, the door remained closed while I was in the office. Not that the office was anywhere near the showroom or the current fitting rooms. But Mrs. B insisted. Well, despite the decor, I had a state of the art TRS-80 and had been able to get almost all of the paper records entered into the accounting program I had bought for the shop. The first few weeks I had kept the NEC printer running almost non-stop! In the process I found and recovered something over $20,000 of unpaid bills that Mrs. B had not been able to keep track of with her paper and pencil system. So I was her fair-haired boy! Not that my financial success did anything to make her relax her rules. I never had any contact with the clientele that kept B&A at the top of the game in custom made underwear. And then... I was beavering away at the last weeks receipts when the door behind me opened. "Young man, could you help me? Everyone seems to be busy." The voice was an attractive contra alto. I turned in my chair and was rendered speechless! "Young man, I asked you a question!" she said a little louder. It was her! The woman I had seen prance into the shop on the day of my interview! It was her! There was no doubt! No other woman could have filled so much of the office while still standing in the door way! "Um," I found my voice, "How can I help you?" I managed to drag my eyes up to her face. Those curves made it difficult to remain focused on anything other than her overwhelmingly massive chest! I fought the inclination to stare. "I think my zipper is broken. Can you try to free it? I don't know what happened to the young woman who was helping me. I heard the typewriter in here. I hope you don't mind the interruption?" There was a trace of humor in her eyes as she spoke. As she entered the room she pulled the door shut behind her and turned her back to me indicating the zipper. Sure enough, it was screwed up. As I stood behind her fussing with the zipper I was aware that the mirrors on the walls gave me multiple viewpoints of my visitor. She stood patiently as I worked. I admit I took a little more time than I needed so I could try to memorize the view from each side as well as the front. Even from in back of her I could see the massive swells of her breasts as they projected beyond her rib cage and further, beyond the outside of her arms! My fingers were shaking a little as I worked. I had never been this close to a woman with breasts any where near as large as this woman! "There!" I announced as I finished and pulled the zipper up. "All done!" "Well, thank you, young man. But I need to have it pulled down, you see. Would you mind?" She didn't move as she said this, just looked at me in the mirror. "Um, of course, Ma'am" I responded. I reached up and carefully pulled the zipper down to the bottom of its run, just above the middle of her hips. She said nothing. She hunched her shoulders together and as I watched in the mirror over her shoulder her dress slid down and over the impressive shelf her breasts made. Slowly, her bra was exposed. It took a fair amount of time to do this because the bra was so overwhelmingly large! Each cup seemed easily able to accommodate a basketball with room to spare! With her shoulders hunched forward her breasts were pressed together, the cleavage deep and endless! Her bra cut deeply into the twin pillows of flesh, forcing huge mounds of breast tissue together. A sight I would never forget! Slowly she straightened and inhaled, causing her bosom to rise and rise and rise until I thought that she would burst free of her satin and lace confinement! At the same time she drew her shoulders back causing the shoulder straps to be pulled taut and lifting her bosom into even greater prominence. There was no doubt! This woman was by far the largest breasted female I had ever imagined! I could hear the panels of the bra being stretched to their limits. Her lips quirked into a small smile as she watched me watching her put on a show. When her dress stopped sliding down it had exposed an immense bra and a surprisingly toned midsection. "My husband has been in failing health for years," she said sadly. "He hasn't touched me in months!" Slowly she turned in place. Her bra encased boobs pushed strongly against me, forcing me to take a half step back. Her nipples were hard as dowels, resting against my chest. They rose and fell with her breathing, tracing lines up and down my shirt. I felt her take my wrists in both hands. "Please?" she breathed, as she pulled them up to place them on the outside of either breast. "Please!" Her voice was more demanding now as she pressed my hands hard against her tits. I pushed my hands together. When I released those incredible breasts they bounced strongly against the restraint of the bra. The tops of her tits wobbled and shimmied in place as I gazed in admiration. I heard the fabric of the bra groan under the stress as her breasts flexed, rising and falling like the tides held within her massive bra cups. "Again," she pleaded, raising my hands to her bosom once more. "Again!" she demanded. And I did! Again and again I pressed her tits together and we watched as the they shook and jiggled back into place. "More! Harder! It feels so good! It's been so long!" Her voice was deeper, resonant with longing as she stood before me. Her upper body shuddered in reaction each time I released her boobs to watch them bounce and rebound in her massive bra. I started lifting one and then the other, setting up a rhythm, causing her shoulders to quiver as I manipulated her gigantic tits. She was breathing heavily while I worked on those gigantic mounds of delectable flesh! As I worked I also started to strum her nipples with my thumbs. Her breath caught and I could feel them get harder and press more firmly against the bra fabric. I took a moment to pinch and twist them and then went back to pressing her tits into her chest, lifting and releasing them while her breath got louder and more ragged. "Enough!" she gasped, grabbing my wrists and pulling them away from their delightful task. I reluctantly allowed her to pull my hands down to my sides. It had been fun, but I couldn't expect... She spun around in front of me and then pulled me close up behind her and put my hands back on her over burdened brassiere. "Now, darling, more! Don't stop! Squeeze me HARD! You have such strong hands!" She arched her torso, bringing her butt in contact with my midsection and pushing her bra encased tits into even greater prominence. Encouraged I pulled her back against my body as I smooshed, crushed, crammed, pushed and kneaded her bra encased massiveness. There was no way my hands could come close to holding all of her at the same time. I would push her breasts together, watching her cleavage as it rose between the cups of her bra, seeming to rise to chin height and beyond. Then I grabbed both her nipples in my fists and crushed her tits tightly against her chest. This caused flesh to be forced out to the sides, out below her bra, flesh was exposed every where! She was groaning with excitement as I worked. "I can cum, you know! Just having my titties manipulated can make me cum! I haven't been handled like this in a long time!" She arched her back, pulling her torso away from me while pressing her butt even more strongly against my groin. I knew she could feel my hard-on against her firm cheeks. "Unclasp me," she moaned. "I want to feel your hands on my flesh! Please!" My fingers were shaking a little as I undid the four hook and eyes that joined her bra together. She turned in my embrace as the straps slowly dropped off her shoulders. Smirking at me, she crossed her arms to grasp the underwires of her bra and announced, "I have heard it said that the only time a lady will admit to being over forty is when she is discussing her bust line. Well, young man, I'm fifty-six!" The pride in her voice was obvious as she pulled her arms away and flung her bra onto the desk. "Oh, My God," I breathed in awe! "So BIG! I mean, I knew you had lovely large breasts! But you are... gigantic!" My hands had returned to kneading and squeezing as much of her massiveness as I could clutch in my hands. In spite of the enormity of her titties, they seemed to not sag at all! They jutted forward, they spread to either side! They were immense bowls of pink flesh topped with slightly darker circles that centered on her erect nipples that quivered in eagerness to be pinched and pulled. i caught her nipples between thumb and forefinger while I pressed her boobs together and upwards. Again and again I pressed and lifted, pressed and lifted. Her eyelids drooped as the pleasure increased. Her breasts were indomitable, I was gripping her as tightly as I could, kneading and squeezing with both hands. I could see her orgasmic blush rise from her chest, thru her shoulders and neck. Her boobs were being man-handled and she was loving it! Her breath caught in her throat and she seemed to stagger in front of me as she gasped in ecstasy! "I'm cumming! Your hands are making me cum! So good! It's been so long!" she gasped. She slumped to her knees in front of me, dragging her imposing tits down my body until they were directly over my groin. She grinned up at me as she quickly unclasped my belt and pulled my pants and boxers to my knees. With out hesitation she used both her hands and forearms to moosh her boobs around my stiffly erect dick. My entire groin was swamped in her massive cleavage and gigantic tits. My dick was being clasped deep in her cleavage, there was no outward sign of it at all! Her boobs covered me from my navel almost to my knees as she crushed herself against me. As I watched, groaning, she proceeded to lift, pull, push, mash and otherwise rub my dick with her bodacous breasts! The feeling was indescribable! It felt so good! I had had the occasional tit-fuck before, but nothing like this! Of course none of the earlier tit fuckers had had anywhere near the amplitude that this woman could bring to bear! Within moments I was pulsing and I began to spurt deep between her ginormous titties. It took only a few moments for her to squeeze out every thing I had to offer! Smiling up at me she kept up manipulating my dick until it was completely spent and limp. She pushed her hands between her tits as she leaned back onto her heels. She smirked at me as she massaged my goo into her boobs. "I love the feel of cum between my titties," she announced. "And it's been a long time since I have had this much to work with! Thanks to you, young man!" Silently she ensnared her tits in her massive bra and, after shimming her shoulders to assure that they were properly imprisoned once again, she left, closing the door behind her as I remained slumped against my desk. I hadn't even learned her name! God, I love my job! End Part One Best. Job. Ever! Pt. 02 "Big Tits, Big Dicks and Fantasy Fucking!" ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) Thursday afternoons were really quiet at B&A. The seamstresses and consultants (sales ladies) all had the day off. Mrs Bird came in for a half day and was gone by noon. So I had the place to myself to take care of what ever had to be done. I was usually gone by 4pm, locking up after I was done. Mrs. Bird had given me a key after my second month on the job. Of course she still "dropped in" every Thursday afternoon just to check up on me but I think she was beginning to trust me. A little. It was almost three pm and I was readying to leave. So imagine my surprise when the doorbell rang. And rang. And rang. When I finally got there, unlocked and opened up, a figure ducked under my arm and pushed into the show room. "It's about time!" she exclaimed. "I thought no one was here!" "Well," I started. "Never mind. I'm here. I'm ready for my appointment! Where is Mrs. Bird?" she demanded. "She's not here," I started again. "We don't have..." "Nonsense! I have an appointment!" she repeated. Her voice was a little less certain and I took a moment to examine my unexpected visitor. Smothered in an oversized trench coat against the autumn chill she didn't look like one of our usual customers. They tended to be coiffed and pampered women of means. This young lady was somewhat unfashionable. Her blonde hair had been cropped short as was the current fashion. But her shoes were sensible walking shoes, her jeans were too loose to be up to date. And I couldn't see anything else about her since she was all bundled up. But I couldn't overlook the rose bud mouth and pert nose underneath her china blue eyes. She looked like she was about to cry as she peered around the shop. She was too pretty to cry. I wished there was something I could do to help. "But I came so far! On the bus. I hate the bus! My Mom said she made the appointment with Mrs. Bird just for me! I didn't want to come. I hate getting fittings! It's so, um, embarrassing..." she ran down and just looked at me. Tears were welling up in her eyes. "Can't you help? I don't want to have wasted the afternoon!" Her voice was on the ragged edge. I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. But I didn't know what I could do. I had no idea how the consultants and Mrs. Bird did what they did. "I'd love to help, young lady," "Missy, call me Missy." "Um, of course, Missy. But I'm the accountant, not a fitting consultant. I would hardly know where to start." I explained. "Well, I suppose you could just do the beginnings, right? I hate to have wasted the whole afternoon," she repeated. "Um, well..." I stuttered. "I haven't had a fitting since I was 18, over four years ago. I used to come with my Mom but..." again her voice trailed off as she turned to face me. "Please?" she begged again as she struggled out of her coat. Dropping it on a chair she turned to face me with a sigh of resignation. HOLY SMOKES! Underneath a loose ribbed sweater Missy was smuggling a prime pair of watermelons! The sweater was tucked into her jeans which only emphasized the difference between her waist and bust line. "Well, I suppose I could take some preliminary data and give Mrs. Bird an idea of what you are looking for," I offered. Faced with the chance to get to know the second largest pair of tits I'd ever seen probably had a lot to do with my change of attitude. "That's great!" she enthused. "Now, how do we start?" "Well," I temporized. "What did you do the last time you were here?" "Um," she started to blush, "they took my measurements. You know," she touched her hips, waist and bust lightly to indicate what had been measured. "I suppose we should start with that." She glanced up at me from under her eyebrows to judge my reaction. "Uh, okay. That sounds about right," I said as I glanced around the fitting room looking for a tape measure and ... There! I found a pen on top of a stack of forms I had seen before. The Customer Evaluation Form. I hadn't filled one out of course, but everything was pretty straight forward I saw as I read thru it. From behind me I heard a soft rustling sound and another sigh from Missy. When I turned I found that she had discarded her jeans and shoes. She was standing in front of my with only a pair of sensible panties and her over burdened sweater! "Yow, uh, I mean, you, what...?" I stuttered. Smooth talker, right? "Well," she blushed, "you have to get accurate measurements, right?" With out looking at me she began to pull her sweater up. Without taking my eyes off her I asked her name. "Melissa Roberts," she replied, her voice muffled under the sweater as she finally worked it up over her bust line. I took my time writing that down giving her a chance to discard the sweater on top of the pants she had dropped on a chair. When I looked back at her she was standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her arms crossed in front of her chest. It was like trying to hide twin beach balls behind two crossed sticks. But one thing was very clear, even to me. "That bra really doesn't fit you, Missy," I pointed out. The item in question was truly a horrible fit. There was breast flesh pooching out from under the bra cups. As she slowly lowered her arms I saw that the cleavage was being forced up and out by how tightly the cup cut into the soft pale pink flesh. Straps dug cruelly into her shoulders. It looked as uncomfortable as hell! "Well, I haven't been fitted since I was eighteen, four years ago," she admitted. "I've grown a little since then, I guess. I usually just strap myself down, you know." Grown a little? I could see seams buckling under the pressure while they tried to hold back her extravagance of breast flesh. Grown a little? Her breasts were HUGE and her bra was only ridiculously large. Yikes! "Well, we'll get to that," I said. "Get up on the scale and we'll get started." I thought to offer her a dressing gown, there were several on hooks behind the door, but she didn't seem to be too uncomfortable standing in front of me in only pan and an over-matched bra. I figured if she could deal with it, I certainly could, too. She stood on the scale and stood up as straight as she could with her shoulders pulled back. This of course emphasized her massive development and I almost tripped over my own feet as I moved to stand next to her to look at the readings. "Okey dokey, Missy, you weigh, um, 123 lbs," I read off the scale. "And you are," I pulled out the dohicky that measured her height, "five feet tall," I finished. Turning away I quickly adjusted myself before jotting down the info on the form. "I had hoped I'd grown up some," she remarked. "Being short sucks!" She may have been short but there was no way she was anything but grown up! Again, Yikes! Moving slowly, I knelt next to her and pulled the tape around her hips at the widest part. Trying to keep a calm expression I fumbled briefly with the tape getting a snug fit and announced, "Thirty-six inches." Moving up and taking a careful measurement, "Twenty-four." I stood up and started to offer her the tape but she just looked at me. And at the same time she reached behind herself with both hands and started to undo her bra! "What are you doing?" I asked. "We need to get an accurate measurement, right? Well, I have to take off this lousy bra so you can get the right numbers". She seemed nervous but determined. I gulped as she allowed the bra to slide down and off her over-grown pumpkins. She dangled the bra from her hand momentarily and then tossed it onto the chair with the rest of her clothes. Her breasts were spectacular, beyond spectacular! Round and solid, with just enough softness to show that they were real. They didn't sag really. They jutted roundly from her chest, ending in the largest nipples I'd ever seen. The nipples were almost an inch wide, centered in the middle of pink aureola and just barely raised from the surface. Noticing my attention Missy raised her hands to cover her self which caused her breasts to balloon under the pressure creating a mind blowing cleavage. Well, it blew my mind at least. "Okay," I mumbled as I moved behind her with the tape in my hand. "Please," she murmured, "I'm very sensitive." "I'll be careful" I responded. Carefully I drew the tape around the fullest part of her bust line. As I bent down to peer at the number I heard her inhale with a hiss. I let the tape drop and stood up. "I'm sorry, I'll have to do it again, Missy. I think I got it wrong," I may have gotten it wrong. The number I had gotten seemed unlikely. Again I drew the tape around her breasts, my finger tips just brushing her skin as I worked. Again I heard her inhale tremulously as I worked. I thought I saw her nipples grow a bit as I looked in the mirror. Holding the tape taut I again read the number. "Can this be right?" I asked as I stood up. I didn't let the tape go as I read it again. "This says 48 inches?" The disbelief in my voice was real. "Uh, well, I suppose so," Missy responded with a gulp. "The last time I got measured I was 44 inches. And I'm older now, so..." her voice died when our eyes met in the mirror. Four inches growth? An inch a year? In a grown women? That didn't seem likely to me. But what the hell? "And, uh, I'm going to need the special bra cups," she told me as a flush rose in her face. "You know, to cover my, ah, that is, to hide, um. My nipples!" she blurted. "Your nipples?" I repeated. "Well, when they get stimulated they get so big!" she explained. "It's embarrassing, you can see them thru my sweaters and every thing. I'll show you. Promise you won't laugh?" "I won't laugh, Missy. I only want to help you." I swore. "It's just that I'm so very sensitive. It's hard to control myself sometimes." She was blushing furiously now. "See?" she asked as she hefted her right breast in her right hand and plucked at her nipple with the other. As I watched, transfixed, her nipple grew, expanding, thickening, extending outward until, when she let it go it was at least an inch long and thicker than her thumb! I'd never seen anything like it! She turned away from the mirror to face me. "You see why I need the special cups?" She asked. She was still cupping her tit, almost offering it to me in supplication. With a groan I dropped my head and locked my lips around the most enticing nipple I had ever seen. Sucking, licking, nipping with my teeth I worked over that nipple. I lapped at it, pursed my lips over it and sucked in rapturous adoration! I finally pulled away and glanced at her face in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Missy! I shouldn't have done that. Please forgive me?" I begged. "No, no, you were right! I wasn't fully erect. I can see that now. It felt so good! And look how big I am now!" She was right. The nipple in front of me was much larger than before. "Do the other one!" she demanded as she swung her other breast into my face. "Make it feel as good as you did this one!" She was pulling strongly on the nipple that had just been freed from my mouth with her thumb and forefinger while she pushed the other tit into my face. Her face was scrunched up in passion. "I know you can make me cum if you suck it hard enough!" Ten minutes later we were lying on the floor while I sucked and played with both tits. Her legs were around my back, her panties flapping wildly from one ankle as she threw her pussy at my banging cock. She had been right! It had only taken a few minutes of ministration to her second tit to bring her to an orgasm! I'd never know that a woman could get that much pleasure from tittie play, but I loved doing it. And she loved my doing it to her. As soon as she had caught her breath she had torn down my pants and demanded that I bang her as hard as I could. And I was! Banging and banging, we were fucking like rabbits in the middle of the fitting room. I would suck on one tit for a while and switch to the other when she used both hands to drag my head across her chest and clutch me to her other breast. Banging and banging, she was crying with pleasure, pleading for me to suck harder, play with her tits and to bang her deeper and deeper. Who was I to say no? Banging and banging, I couldn't help but think, "I'm going to get fired! I'm going to get fired! Mrs. Bird will walk in any moment and I'm going to get fired." And I didn't care! Banging and banging the hottest girl I'd ever met with the second biggest set of tits I'd ever seen was SO worth it. Even if I did lose the Best. Job. Ever! Best. Job. Ever! Pt. 03 Part 3 Meeting Missy's Mom "Big Tits, Big Dicks and Fantasy Fucking!" ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) What is the most dreaded moment in a man's life? My vote would go to "Meet the girlfriend's parents" day. In this case I only had to met one parent. Missy's Dad was very ill and almost never left his bed. Missy was afraid that he was going to die soon. And if what she told me was the case I suspected she was right. That made meeting her Mom even worse! What if she didn't like me? Missy and I had moved in together about a week after our first meeting. There was no doubt in my mind that she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with! She was funny and kind, sexy and cute. We really enjoyed each other's company. Yeah, in bed too! And she had giant tits! So, anyway, here I sat in the booth of an up-scale restaurant waiting to meet my girlfriends Mom. Missy's Mom had made the reservation but she was a little late for our meeting. "Oh! There she is! Over here Mom!" cried Missy waving at a woman who was coming our way. It took me a moment but suddenly I felt my flop sweat freeze as I recognized Missy's Mom! It was her! There was no way there was another woman like her in Philadelphia! Like a tall ship sailing into harbor surrounded by attendant vessels the woman I had "handled" at Burns and Adrian's was moving across the dining room! Mother and daughter hugged closely while I stood frozen. Watching over one hundred inches of bosom collide brought at least part of me to life. I watched as Missy's 48 inch pumpkins were just swallowed up by what I had been told was a 58 inch bust. Missy wasn't as tall as her Mom. When they hugged Mom's amazing bosom rode up over her daughter's chest. Awe inspiring. Looking over at me Missy announced, "This is Catherine Roberts, my Mom." Breaking from the hug Mom turned to me and stuck out her hand. "You must be the young man I've heard so much about. Please call me Kate." she said as she pumped my hand. "My, what a firm grip!" There was a twinkle in her eye as she continued to hold my hand in both of hers. That was the second thing I noticed. The first was the low cut neck line and the massive swells of breast meat that surged into sight as she hunched her shoulders slightly and pushed her elbows together while shaking my hand. "I so enjoy a man with a firm grip." she announced. She never let go of my hand as she maneuvered me to sit between herself and Missy. Missy didn't seem aware of the continued contact between us as she chatted with her Mom. I sat between the two bustiest women I had ever imagined as they talked. From time to time Missy would lean toward her Mom and in the process press her tit against my arm or side. And in response her Mom would press her even larger boob against me as she leaned toward Missy. I could barely breathe. The whole dinner was a blur. I don't remember a thing. I must have taken part but I can't recall saying anything. During the course of the meal Missy had three or four glasses of wine while her Mom kept pace. I just drank water. I didn't want to loose whatever control I had left. Mom touched my arm from time to time as we talked. I sweat her touch almost burned my flesh. And when she wasn't touching my arm she often rested her hand on my thigh under the table. Finally, Missy announced that she had to go to the rest room. And as she departed her Mom turned to me. "I'm so pleased to see you again, you know. I'm glad that you and my daughter are getting along so well. I wasn't sure that telling her that she had an appointment would work." "You did that?" I was stunned. "I sure did! I knew that she would like you the moment I met you. I want my daughter to be happy, you know." She was squeezing my arm with one hand and my thigh with the other. "And I want to be happy as well," she purred as her hand slid up my thigh and started to caress my semi-rigid dick. "Mmmm, I remember this. I remember how you spurted between my titties. Do you remember? You really enjoyed that tit fuck I gave you, didn't you?" "I remember. But I'm with your daughter now. I don't think..." "Quite right. Don't think! Just fill your hands with my giant titties! I love the way you can play with them! It makes me so excited, knowing that someone like you, someone who loves big boobs is getting off on my huge melons!" Her voice was low and husky. Her eyes were filled with lust in the low lit room. "You know it takes Missy a long time in the bathroom. I bet I can get you off twice while she's in the Ladies Room." she purred while her tongue wet her lips. "Let's see if I'm right!" She grabbed me by the wrists and pulled my hands to her partially revealed bust. "Come on, honey! Grab hold and give my titties the attention they deserve. Squeeze me! Hold me! Make my tits feel good while I make you feel good!" She was already making me feel good! She was stroking and pulling on my dick. And a moment later she had it waving in the breeze under the table. She was smiling at me, she knew I couldn't resist those huge firm mountains that were quivering under my hands. And she was right! I could no more stop my hands from feeling her, caressing her and strumming her nipples than i could stop my self from breathing! God, they were amazing! Missy's breasts were wonderful. Big, Firm. Sensitive and she enjoyed our breast play in the bedroom. But Missy was not very adventuresome. Her Mom was a woman who was encouraging me to play with those huge tits in public! And was trying to stroke my dick under the table until I spewed my seed! "This is my favorite table," she told me. "It was our usual table when Roland and I dined here. It's private and you can fool around with out too much danger. Once I climbed onto Roland's lap and fucked him right here! The wait staff knows I don't like to be disturbed." Her hands were moving faster and faster while she spoke. "You really like my big titties, don't you," she gasped. I was pushing my hands together and releasing the pressure in a rhythmic motion. Her giant boobs were spilling up and over her neckline, quivering and rippling as they rose and fell. It was amazing to watch. She kept up the dirty talk as she worked, praising my penis, talking about how much she loved having her tits played with. "I love how you adore tits, you know. Missy has told me a lot about how you two are in the bedroom. She loves how you suck her nipples and play with her tits while you pile drive her poor little pussy into the bed! She loves to see you blow your load all over her and she gets to play with you to get you hard again. Her tits are so big and excitable! "But my tits are even bigger! And more sensitive. I can have and orgasm just from you playing with my big tits! As you know!" She chuckled low in her throat while giving me the dirtiest smile I'd ever seen! "You're about to spew, aren't you?" she moaned. "I can't help it," whispered. "You're too good. Your tits are too big! I can't stand it!" I gasped as I spattered the underside of the table with my cum. By the time Missy returned to the table I had had two explosions. Kate was just so fucking hot. Such a tease! Those huge tits! She was so proud of the way she could excite me with them. I couldn't resist her. Her boobs were like putty in my hands and my dick was like an iron bar in hers. I had to move fast when we got home so that Missy didn't see what a mess I'd made of my pants. And she was horny, too. I was concerned for a moment but she took my momentary lack of response as a result of a tiring night and she rose to the challenge. Unlike most nights she took the initiative and rode me like a horse until we reached the finish line. And that's how I met my girl friends family. I should have run like hell. Missy and her Mom were going to kill me. Either they were going to wear me out or one of them was going to get jealous and shoot me dead. I wasn't sure which would be worse. And I was too stupid to run. After all, Missy was my perfect mate. And her Mom wouldn't be around THAY much. I could avoid her for the most part. And I still had The. Best. Job. Ever. Best. Job. Ever! Pt. 04 "Big Tits, Big Dicks and Fantasy Fucking!" ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ( o ) ***** Six months had passed since I'd met Missy's Mom, Catherine Roberts, Kate as she had asked me to call her. Like Mother, like Daughter: Missy possessed a magnificent figure. A true 48-24-36. And at only 5 feet tall, with a slender almost teenager like body she filled a mind boggling 32 P cup bra! But because she was so full and round, the tag read 32-NNN. I knew because I was the accountant at the firm where she had her custom made bras constructed. Yikes! And her Mom? Older, of course, and a little taller. But not much. And bigger. Mrs. Roberts needed every trick known to the experts at Burns & Adrian to corral her 58 inch bust line. And while she was three or four inches taller than Missy, her hips and waist measurements were the same, 36 and 24! Her under bust measurement was also the same, 26 inches. Add the standard 5 inches to calculate the body band would suggest 31 inches. But bras only use even numbers for some reason. So both women used a 32 inch body band. Missy with her unbelievable 32-Triple N cup bras did not even come close to filling Kate's 32-Z cup brassieres. And like Missy, because of her fullness, the rounded nature of her breasts the tag for Moms hooter halters read 32-VVVVV. YIKES! With nipples that matched her mammoth mountains, Kate was one of a kind. And she liked me. In "that" way! The first time we met she had offered me the chance to pay adoration to her majestic mammaries until she had had an orgasm. Yes, she could cum just by having her nipples and breasts played with. She had then redefined the phrase "Tit Fuck" for me in a demonstration that had me splashing her vast tits in minutes. The second time I had met her she jacked me off under the table in a popular restaurant while Missy was in the Ladies Room. Twice! And all the time I was again kneading, squeezing, pulling, pushing, foundling and playing with breasts that occupied every inch of her upper body. After that episode I swore off of any contact with Kate. I truly loved Missy. And she had more than enough boob for a breast addict like myself, didn't she? She sure did. After all, how many women do you know that measure themselves in feet? Five feet tall, four foot bust, three foot hips and two feet that the waist. So I was done with Kate! Done! And so far I'd managed to not get entangled with her. I made sure that I was never alone with her. And when we got together I made sure that Missy was between me and her Mom. I'm sure that Mom knew what I was doing but she never made a fuss. I hoped that what had happened between us was in the past. Missy and I were living together now and as much time as we spent together, I still wished we could be together even more. Every time I saw her, I reacted in the same way. She turned me on like crazy. Although she rarely made the first move in the sack we were really good together. When we made love it was always great! From my point of view, looking down at Missy, watching as her giant boobs bounced and shook was always exciting. And the few times that she took charge and rode me it was mind melting to see those gigantic tits bounce and slap against each other! If, every once in a while, I pictured what her Mom would look like with an additional ten inches of breast meat flopping around, unrestrained, well, that was just a passing fancy. I didn't have to worry about it, really. We did finally set the date. If you haven't been involved with planning a wedding let me warn you: the groom's job is to nod his head, agree with whatever is proposed and try to stay the hell out of the way! That was my plan and for the most part it worked fine. The ceremony went off without a hitch. Missy looked freaking amazing! One thing about getting married; the bride is allowed, practically encouraged, to dress in such a way as to show all the guys what they would never have a chance at any more! Missy certainly succeeded in that regard! Missy had never been a showoff. She had an amazing figure. And I was one of the few who knew it. But when she was at the head of the aisle in church, walking toward me, everyone knew how amazing her body was. You could hear jaws dropping through out the church. Those forty-eight inch boobs were showcased by the off the shoulder dress. The neckline was so low cut I didn't understand how her nipples could remain hidden! After swooping down to her twenty four inch waist the dress clung tightly to her thirty four inch hips and then flared out dramatically. She looked like an overly abundant Barbie doll in a wedding dress. We both smiled at each other during the whole ceremony. Love struck was exactly the right phrase. At the reception I danced the first dance with Missy, then we snacked a while as guests came up and offered congratulations. I saw more than a few guys take a long gaping look at the massive cleavage and giant mounding breasts that Missy was showcasing. I wasn't sure how she would react to all the attention. But she fooled me. She enjoyed the attention. A few times I saw her kind of showing off, taking a few deep breathes to make her boobs expand to even greater size for the entertainment of this guy or that. I'd never seen her do that before. And the reaction she got was all that you would expect. More than once I was congratulated by some disbelieving fellow that had known Missy long before I had met her. But I was going to be the one handling those huge tits at the end of the day. Lucky me! After a couple of hours Missy went up to the suite to nap and change. We were flying to the Caribbean in the morning. She wanted to be fresh for the trip and she had had a few glasses of wine. Roland had given the bride away from his wheelchair. And he had left immediately thereafter. He was weakening day by day and the least bit of exertion left him trembling with exhaustion. But he had insisted that he be the one to give away his little girl. Mrs. Roberts returned from getting Roland settled into their suite and sat next to me at the head table. I shifted my chair away from her a little and turned to smile at my new Mother. She was smiling placidly at me. But I was still nervous. Was she going to try something here? At my wedding reception? Seemingly not. Her hands stayed in her lap, not mine. We chatted for a while and then she asked me for a dance. Seemed a reasonable thing to do so I agreed. She was dressed in a light blue full length gown. Her cleavage tastefully displayed under a semi fitted jacket. Very elegant. As she stood up she doffed the jacket and left it on her chair. Underneath she sported a sweetheart neckline dress that gripped her tightly from the waist up and draped gracefully from the hips downward. Her shoulders were bare. Most of her back was bared. How her breasts were supported was a complete mystery. But there they were. Sitting high and sticking so far out in front of her. Grabbing me by the hand she led me onto the dance floor. There were a lot of other people dancing around us. I doubt if anyone else saw what happened next. Smirking into my eyes Missy's Mom put her hands on her hips, arched her back toward me and inhaled strongly. Her boobs rose and rose. They climbed up from under her neckline. More and more breast flesh was exposed to my stunned amazement. Her tits were insanely large! As she moved gracefully into my arms Mrs. Roberts, Kate, mashed her 58 inch chest against me. I could feel her tits slide across my chest and I swear they wrapped around me! Still smiling proudly, she shimmied her upper body so I could feel her fulsome endowments move against me. "I so want to take this opportunity," she purred, "to welcome you to the bosom of our family." Her voice dripped with promise as she continued to move in my arms. She pressed herself even more tightly against me as we shifted positions on the dance floor. Her hand started to drift downward. Looking down between us, all I could see was breast flesh and cleavage. I had danced with Missy earlier. This was another experience entirely. At our first meeting Kate had bragged that she had a fifty eight inch bust line. It seemed that she might be even larger. Missy measured 48 inches. I'd done the measuring myself. But the boobs quivering between us seemed much more than 10 inches larger! "Missy and I wear the same body band for our bras you know. But my bust is inches larger than hers." She was again smirking at me. "I was blessed with Missy when I was eighteen. I'm forty now, just entering my sexual prime." Her voice seemed to come from a distance. She was pulling me to her and whispering into my ear. "When I was Missy's age I was proud to have a 40 inch bust. I measured 40-22-32. I've gained a little weight, but most of it has gone to my bosom." She pressed herself against me even more tightly. "Each year I gain an inch or so, up top." Her eyes dropped significantly before smirking at my amazed expression. "Every year. Another few years and I'll be as big around the bust as I am tall! "And do you want to know something even more amazing? Missy is growing too. Even faster than I am! We had to let out her dress last week so she wouldn't fall out of it! She measures almost 50 inches now. She'll catch up to me in a few years, I bet!" She didn't seem upset at the thought. "But I know her. She's still uncertain of herself, sexually. She hasn't realized how lucky she is. I've been talking to her, trying to tell her that she's so very fortunate in so many ways. And how important it is that she embrace the changes that she's going thru. And how lucky she is to have found a man like you. Someone who will enjoy her more and more. I don't think she believes me. Yet. But she will, I know it." While she had been talking to me she had continued to use every part of herself to bring me to a full blown hard on. Her massive breasts massaged me from waist to mid chest. Every once in a while she would slide down a little and I could feel her tits press against my groin. She would rock her body back and forth, making her boobs caress me. My arms , reaching down to her waist, were about the only thing that prevented her from completely enveloping my torso. Looking down again I was amazed that I could see no sign of her dress at all! I was looking at her tits and cleavage. More of each than any three of the other women in the room could produce combined! Yikes! "I know how Missy can be. If you ever need any, um, relief, I want you to feel free to come to me. I want to help you any way I can," she cooed. The available services seemed obvious as she moved her hips, caressing my groin with hers. My hard on had sprouted while were dancing. And it was not going down now that she was pressing herself full length against me. "Missy will eventually catch me up. But for now, well, I know how much you love big, big breasts. And I know mine are the biggest titties you have seen. Getting larger, too!" she laughed. "And I don't want you to be embarrassed by admiring my figure! I'm very proud of how I look. And I want you to feel free to admire how I look. How I fit in my clothes with my big boobs!" As the song ended she pulled back and somehow managed to pull her dress up and return to a measure of modesty. Leading me back to the table she watched me collapse into my seat. Bending over she cupped my hard on, remarking, "Save this for Missy. But remember who inspired it." She was gone before I could think of a reply. That night Missy dealt with that erection and two more that she inspired. She seemed focused on pleasing me as seldom before. I loved it. The next day we left for our two week honeymoon. Two weeks of sun, sand, salt water. Two weeks of couples massage, tanning on the private patio of our private cottage, wandering around the picturesque island. Two weeks of sex with the sexiest woman I knew. One of the sexiest women I knew. Missy seemed to have a great time too. At first she wore a one piece swim suit. But she noticed that all the other women were wearing bikinis. So she bought a two piece. And she admitted that she liked the way she got attention in it. And why not? There wasn't another woman on the island that had her figure, as I pointed out to her. So then she got a bikini. And then yet another. By the end of our trip she was practically naked. Wearing the smallest imaginable thong which exposed both of her tight little cheeks, cut so low that she had to shave herself. And the top consisted of two tiny scraps of cloth that were attached by a thin, almost invisible string. Her nipples were barely covered. Hints of her aureoles could be seen peeking out from behind the cloth. She was showing more boob than any other woman at the resort. She seemed to glow all the time. The attention she got when she went out seemed to spur her on. Our sex was hot and spontaneous. And she was taking charge more often. "Did you see the way those men were staring," she would ask me as she slipped out of the skin tight blouse that was cut THIS low. "They couldn't take their eyes off me. I swear!" She acted annoyed. But the way she dragged me to bed delivered a very different message. She was HOT! I was in heaven. And then we went back to the States. As we unpacked I noticed that she was tossing out her new swim wear. "I can't believe I acted like that," she explained when I asked. "You must think I'm some kind of slut. Well, I'm done with that! I should act like a respectable married woman now." "Well," I replied, "Not all the time, I hope." I couldn't persuade her. All those sexy, lovely outfits got tossed. Two hours later her Mom called. Roland had died while we were away. She had waited to tell us so that we would enjoy ourselves. It wasn't a surprise. If anything it was a surprise that he had lived as long as he had. Missy was unconsolable. She cried for days. All I could do was to hold her and try to be an anchor for her. She took a leave from her job and just moped around the house. She would call me at work and just cry over the phone. It got worse and worse. I was really worried about her. The Doctor suggested that I find a way to spend more time with her or to at least make sure that she was not left alone. We even considered having her hospitalized. We moved in with her Mom. The house was too empty, Katie said. And having the two women together in the house did seem to help Missy. But it didn't help me. Missy was never in the mood for sex now. All the fun that we had had on our honeymoon seemed to have vanished from her memory. She didn't even like to cuddle any more. She would respond if I insisted. But she seemed uninvolved to say the least. And after that marvelous honeymoon it was a bummer to lie on top of her unresponsive body. So sex was not happening. I even jacked off in the shower a couple of times. Just to get some relief. Doctor had prescribed sleeping pills and mood elevating meds for Missy. But I didn't trust her with them. I was afraid that she would OD. So I kept them and gave them to her on a schedule. And at night I made sure that she didn't drink before she went to bed. Or, if she did, I didn't give her any pills. Everyone was unhappy. Missy was really a mess. I was not too far behind her and Kate seemed to echo our mood. Kate had known how ill Roland was. So she was probably less affected than Missy. She started to try to talk Missy through her grief. I would see them talking all the time. One night, another frustrating night, I went to the kitchen to make a snack. Missy had taken a sleeping pill. They knocked her out and left me high and, well, dry. If you get my drift. I had just sat down to my omelet when Kate came in. "Oh, sorry," she said. "I didn't know you were here. I can come back." She was wearing a modest robe, tied at the waist. "No, stick around, I said. "I could use the company. Missy took another of her pills and she'll be out until morning." "Oh, that's too bad. I was going to grab a salad as a midnight snack." She opened the fridge door. Despite the robe she had on there was enough light from the fridge that I could see the outline of her massive boob as it hung below her as she reached for the salad. "Do you want anything else?" she asked as she half turned toward me. Her colossal breasts swung gently with her movement and started to loosen her belt. "I'm fine, thanks," I replied, trying to pull my gaze away from those gigantic melons. How could they ride so high and proud with out a bra I wondered. Kate turned to close the door and then pirouetted toward the table. As she turned her robe was caught in the closing door and jerked her whole body. With a shriek of dismay she lost control of the salad bowl and fell backward into my lap! Salad went everywhere. And as she surveyed the wreckage I found my self holding my sexy as hell Mother-in-Law. In fact my left arm was around her slender back while my right arm was stretched across her immense bust. My right hand barely reached to the far side of her left boob. I could feel her firm softness from my wrist to my shoulder and even further. It took a moment for me to realize that I was holding a naked from the waist up, sexy as hell Mother-in-Law. I was holding two of the biggest tits ever in my arms. Well, not so much holding as supporting. They rested heavily on my arm. I slowly lifted my eyes from all that bulging breast flesh. Kate was looking at me. Her eyes were the first to break our look. They slipped down to my lips and her lips swiftly followed. Her arms wrapped around me, her boobs pushed heavily against me as she ground herself to me. Our lips were locked together as her hands feathered thru my hair. Both of us were breathing heavily as our kiss continued. Her butt was slipping and sliding against my now full blown hard-on. I felt, as well as heard, her moan. I was making no effort to escape. It had been since before the end our honeymoon that Missy and I had had sex. And I was holding the only woman I had ever known who could match or exceed Missy in every regard! And she was squirming in my lap, pushing her tongue down my throat while groaning in lust. What would you have done? Yeah, I'm weak too! Best Job in the World [Note: As is often the case, the day I wrote this vignette, which doesn't pretend to be a full story, I woke up with this storyline in my mind. As also is often the case, I have no idea what my mind was referencing when it created it.] "What a crock of crap this is," Philip Metcalf muttered to himself—there being no other figure in his plush office overlooking the activity on the editorial floor below him through a bank of glass windows. "And I think we've used this title a hundred times before. Just how gullible can our readers get? How did Tony let this one get past him?" He held up the grainy cover of one of his company's best-selling pulp sex mags and peered at the title "My Life as a Male Pole Dancer" that was blazoned in screamy red lettering half way down the contents list. He flipped open the magazine to the article and read, "Who would have guessed that a corn-fed lad from Iowa would wind up . . .?" Just the usual shit; a country hick waving his booty on some dive's bar and calling it sexy, Philip thought. We don't run pics on his sort of trash anymore. Tony's lost all touch with whatever creativity and sense of the fresh he'd ever had. For the third time today, the publisher of the chain of girlie and homo rags contemplated firing his managing editor. But he knew that Tony probably did have a good feel for the readership. He also knew that firing Tony would require finding another managing editor. And doing that would interfere with Philip's golf game. This has gotta be the shittiest job in the world, Philip thought. He slapped the magazine down on the expansive, shiny top of his mahogany desk and picked up the letter sitting next to the magazine. "I can't think you enuff for running my story. It make me feel like a millun bucks," it began. "I seen your photo in a magasine, and I think you are a very handsum man. I wish there was some way I could show my gratude for . . ." I didn't even notice this story in the magazine until I got this letter, Philip fumed. And when I went down and reamed Tony after I had seen, he just gave me a wary look and said he'd handled it. Having the hay seed pole dancer ask for an appointment to see me was Tony's idea of "fixing it?" This I gotta see. Philip snorted and dropped the letter. He couldn't bring himself to read any more. Illiterate. The guy couldn't even write a letter. How had any story he had written ever gotten to be published—even in one of Philip's rags? But the hilarious spelling of the letter had been exactly why Philip hadn't shunted the appointment back downstairs when the guy had called in, wanting to see him. Maybe he'd get Tony up here and lower the boom on them both at the same time. "This has got to be the world's crappiest job," he murmured. With a sigh, he reached over and punched the intercom button on his telephone. "OK, Vicky, you can tell the guy out there to come in now." Philip was somewhat taken aback by the handsome, blond, neatly dressed young man who entered his office, carrying some sort of electronic device under his well-muscled arm. He'd expected some sleazy dirt bag chewing on a strand of oats. "Listen, son," he said, as the smiling young man, looking at the same time both innocent and fetching with the lock of blond hair swirling down to his pale-blue eyes, walked to the desk and placed a boom box on the top, "if this is about payment for the story, we don't pay for three months, and you should address all queries on that to . . ." "You're even better in person than in the photos, Mr. Metcalf. I do want to thank you for running my story, and I've thought of how I hope I can thank you the right way. The guy downstairs I showed the story to certainly liked the way I thanked him for publishing it." His voice was soft and rich. It had some sort of twang to it, which Philip thought might be Iowa. But who was he to know? He hadn't been any further west from Jersey City than Philadelphia. The young man was so good looking, though, and seemed so assured of himself that Philip was at a loss for words and just sat there, mesmerized, as the young man pushed a button on the boom box, causing music—pretty loud music with a strong bass beat—to boom forward. Philip's eyes followed the young man as he moved with arresting, mincing steps back to the office door, shot the lock home with a sharp click, and then moved from window to window overlooking the editorial floor below, and snapped the blinds shut. He turned and gave Philip a smile and a provocative look, and Philip sank into his plush executive chair and gave a little groan. It was beginning to dawn on him why Tony had agreed to run the guy's story—and also why sending the guy up to see him was how Tony thought the problem would be taken care of. It obviously wasn't the sweet young thing's writing that was convincing about his story's worth. The young man obviously was in full control. Philip hadn't imagined this would go this way. He wouldn't have let him in for an appointment at all except that he had been looking forward to seeing what an illiterate, corn-fed country yokel from Iowa looked like as comic relief on an otherwise dull day. The young man's hips started swaying and he pulled his polo shirt over his head. Philip sucked air. The guy was really cut—ripped. He wasn't muscle bound, but every muscle was in place, fully developed, and part of a luscious package. His smooth, tanned torso was moving with the beat of the music, and his pecs were flexing and releasing right on the beat. "My name in the magazine is listed as 'Charles,' but you can call me Chucky." Of course I can, Philip thought, anything he could actually say, though, caught in his throat, which was constricting. He could feel a low growl of lust building from the center of his chest, busting to break out, but trapped inside by air moving in the wrong direction. "All my friends call me Chucky, and we're going to be very good friends, you and me, I think. The man downstairs was happy to be my friend. He liked my story enough to print it. So I think you'll like me too. And I got lots of ideas for stories. I bet this will make a good story too." Chucky laughed. Philip couldn't manage much more than a gurgle. Oh, god, I hope so, Philip thought. Chucky had pulled two long, red silk scarves from somewhere, and he was using them to dance in place with. Philip's eyes followed the slide of the scarves as Chucky moved them provocatively around and across his smooth, lightly tanned torso. When Chucky reached down and jerked off his breakaway pants with one swift movement, Philip gasped, and a hand involuntarily went to his basket, which was already tenting out. "Do you like me?" Chucky asked in a low, melodic voice. "Do you think I make a good story?" All Philip could muster in reply was a low, guttural sound rising up from his gorge. His eyes were popping out at just how exotic—and suggestive—were Chucky's undulating movements to the beat of the boom box music. And he was reminded yet again how much better this was in real life than just reading fantasies about it and looking at photographs depicting it in the magazines he published. He sometimes got so bogged down in the tiring, dull business end of selling sex that he forgot what got him into this business. He reached over and punched the intercom button and managed to croak. "Hold all of my calls for now, Vicky." "Sure thing, Mr. M.," the intercom chirped back. Vicky had worked here a long time, and Vicky was no dummy. The rags in Metcalf's empire featured photos as well as written stories, and the auditions for a lot of those were conducted right here in Philip's office. Of course, before now Philip had always been in complete control of what happened in this office. This was a whole new sensation for Philip. Maybe that's why it was turning him on as high as the volume of the boom box music. As Philip buzzed off, Chucky was coming around the side of the desk. Standing behind Philip's chair, he pulled it away from the desk toward the large plate-glass window behind. Philip tilted his head back to find himself staring into a pert and nubby nipple on a very nicely developed, smooth-skinned chest. He groaned. This wasn't anything like looking at one of the photos in his magazine. It had been so long since he'd auditioned guys for those photos that he'd forgotten the difference between a photo and the sensation of the guy actually being there. At the feel of Chucky's touch on his arm, Philip looked down and dumbly watched Chucky firmly wrap his forearm against the arm of his chair with one of the red silk scarves, holding his arm bound there. His head swiveled around to see Chucky doing the same to the forearm resting on the other chair arm. In everything, the surprise and shock of what was happening—as pleasant as it was—kept Chucky one step ahead of him. Philip couldn't think of what he should say or do before Chucky had moved on to something else—something even more provocative than he had done before. And now the "do" was too late if he wanted to regain control. He was firmly bound to his chair. Chucky came in front of him and moved in close, with Philip's knees between his thighs. The young man was still dancing in place, his torso slowly undulating in the most provocative way. Philip's eyes ran down the enticing line of Chucky's torso to the bulge of the red silk thong, which was all Chucky was now wearing. "Gah, gah," Philip managed from his nearly paralyzed throat. But that was all he managed to say, fully realizing it was gibberish, before Chucky leaned over him, pulled Philip's head toward his face by pulling on Philip's tie, and having Chucky's minty-flavored mouth capture his. Philip shuddered. The bulge between Chucky's legs was rubbing against Philip's belly now—but the red thong was gone. This was real. This wasn't just one of the lame, same-same stories being run in his magazine. Literacy and spelling and word usage didn't mean shit here. Philip wasn't able to concentrate on the kiss—as arousing as he was finding it—because Chucky was already unbuttoning his shirt and running his hands in to grope Philip's chest and rub and tweak his nipples. And the arousal of this was quickly replaced with the sensation and sound of his belt buckle being undone and his zipper lowered and then of warm hands on his half-engorged and quickly hardening cock. The feel of Chucky's hard cock against Philip's belly made him hyperventilate. And he barely had time to appreciate Chucky's fisting of his shaft when he was gasping and gulping at the feel of a condom being rolled onto his cock and lubricant being slathered on the sheathed shaft. A strangled "Muffff" sound and the bulging of his eyes as the pale blues of Chucky's bored into them and Chucky worked to get his tongue to the back of Philip's throat were the most reaction Philip could manage—other than the jerking and trembling of his body at every point, as Chucky, still weaving his torso to the beat of the boom box, slowly descended his channel on Philip's cock, rose, descended, rose . . . Racing through Philip's brain in constant, ear-ringing repetition was just one phrase: "God, this is the best job in the world." Chucky was right. More of his stories would be bought for the magazines. And Philip knew just who could become his editor to make them readable.