"Alright, Miss Vinocci, if you'll just sign here, I can start getting this processed." When he looked at me he smiled for the first time. It made my heart flutter. He'd smiled when he welcomed me into his small, minimally decorated office, but this one was real. It made his exotic face even more attractive.
I signed the paper, all the while aware of his eyes on me. Okay, he may not have been scoping out my bod, or even hazarding a glance at my chest, but I felt like I was on display as the pen danced along the line. I was wearing a powder blue dress shirt that followed the curve of my waist, an almost-knee-length black skirt, nylons whose lacy tops clung to the middles of my slender thighs, and four-inch heels that made me saunter. My almost-black hair spilled in silky waves down to my shoulder blades. It felt like his eyes were on every inch of my body, but I knew they weren't. He'd been very professional during my little interview; his eyes never left mine, except to sort through papers and point out parts of my insurance policy.
"There you go," I said, trying to return his smile as I slid the paper back across the desk. "Can I ask you something?"
"Absolutely," he said, looking into my eyes again. I swear he was looking straight into my mind, seeing all these dirty thoughts that sprang up. It wasn't until he dropped his eyes to the papers he was sorting with smooth, nimble hands that I was able to actually get the words out.
"Is breast augmentation covered by this policy?"
"Uh, no." There was the briefest of a hesitation when a look of confusion ghosted across his chiseled features. "No, it's considered a cosmetic operation, so it's not covered." Wait, what was that? Did his eyes just flick down at my chest? I swear they did, but it happed so quickly, I couldn't be sure.
"Oh. Well, I guess I'd better start saving," I said with a giggle, putting the various papers I'd had to bring back into my briefcase. I had to lean forward to do it, since the black leather case was on the floor. He had to be looking at my chest now.
"May I ask why?" His voice wasn't as confident and solid as it was while we'd been talking about deductibles and co-pays.
When I looked up at him, I caught him looking down my blouse. No question about it this time. "Well, since it's not covered by my new, shiny insurance policy, I'll have to pay for it myself."
"No," he said, blushing. "I meant, why do you want... the operation?" He had his papers sorted and set aside in a pile almost as neat and tidy as his suit. His meticulously manicured hands were folded on the desk and he leaned forward just a little bit, trying not to let his embarassment show.
I watched him for a few seconds before offering my best smile. "Because I want them bigger." I felt a tightening deep in my belly when his arched eyebrows rose.
"Miss Vinocci--"
"Rosa," I interrupted.
"Rosa," he corrected himself, shifting in his leather chair. "If you don't mind me saying..." He paused, and only continued once I nodded my ascent. This was an interesting little exchange, a hint of a submissive personality, perhaps? I stored it away in case I'd need it later. "Maybe you would be better off saving your money. Instead of spending it on something you don't need."
"Something I don't need?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow as I leaned back in the padded stackable chair.
"Well, I mean..." He was stammering, growing more uncomfortable by the second. "I don't mean to... It's just that... well, it's fairly clear that you're far from... ah..." He sat back and raked his fingers through dark locks of stylishly messy hair.
I just watched him and lifted my other eyebrow, as if to encourage him. It was fascinating; only two minutes ago, he had been smooth, methodical, and in total control. Now he was embarassed, unsure, and struggling to form his thoughts into words.
"Well, Rosa, you're far from... lacking... in the, uh, in frontal assets."
I laughed, long and silky, the tightening in my bellow drifting lower until I felt myself grow damp. "You don't think so?" He just shook his head. His eyes were locked on mine, but it wasn't professionalism any more. He was trying not to stare at my tits.
I will admit, my breasts aren't exactly small. But they're not big, either. I can fill out a C-cup easily, but I've always wanted bigger. Every day since puberty hit and I first noticed my chest swelling, I've been aware of the way a man's attention is drawn to bigger breasts. I'd started developing before any of my classmates, so I knew those lecherous stares at a young age. I had no illusions about why the boys wanted to date me. I'd never been asked out before I got tits.
When all the other girls in my class started catching up to - and in more than a few cases, surpassing - my expanding chest, the attention dwindled. I thought I'd have been glad to be relieved of the shallow, superficial popularity, but I found that I missed it. I grew into a very attractive young woman, and I had my share of boyfriends through high school, but there was always that sharp jealousy brooding in the back of my mind whenever my companion's eye would be drawn to a larger set of tits.
Now I could finally afford to set aside money for a boob job, and I didn't want a man I'd just met talking me out of it. Now matter how true his assessment was.
"Am I displaying enough evidence for you to make a valid judgement?" He looked so gorgeous sitting there, trying to find something to say that wouldn't piss me off, or something that might even get him a better view. To be honest, he could have said he wanted to fuck me like a animal, and I would have gushed. In fact, I wish he had said that. We could have cut through all this coquettish teasing.
"Well, I mean... your shirt - blouse - doesn't really show much of your... uh... but it--" He was just digging himself deeper. At least, that's probably what he thought. Actually, it was turning me on. I wanted him, and my mind was now focused on achieving that goal.
"It doesn't?" I asked innocently. I stood and leaned forward with one hand on his desk. He should have had a generous view of my cleavage, but just to be sure, I freed the next button. "Is that better?" I watched as he fought to keep his eyes on mine, but finally he looked down at my chest. My pussy clenched against the thought of his cock throbbing deep inside me.
I straightened and loosened the rest of the buttons, slowly. "You don't think they could be just a little bit bigger?" I asked, cupping my breasts still sheathed in a lacy black bra that matched my stockings and panties.
"They look fine to me," he said breathlessly. He was squirming now, probably trying to keep from stroking his erection.
"I don't think you're in a position to make such a decision. Come over here." It took a second to sink in, but when he rose, the thick ridge extending down the right leg of his neatly pressed slacks was nothing short of blatant. I unclasped the front of the bra and revealed my breasts to him. His eyes grew wide and a shadow of hunger flashed across his face. My subtlely upturned nipples were swollen with excitement, as if pleading for him to attend them.
"Now, don't you think they could stand to be a cup or two bigger?"
"They're perfect," he breathed, transfixed.
I don't know what it was, whether it was the awe in his voice, the desire in his eyes, or the heat of his breath on my turgid peaks, but I suddenly had no patience for any more teasing.
"Then indulge," I moaned. I reached up, curled my hand around the back of his neck, and pulled him down so I could thrust my tongue into his beautiful mouth. His tongue reacted immediately and confidently, sliding along mine, entwining them in a sudden explosion of passion. It must have shattered his inhibitions, because just as eagerly, his hands were on my breasts, weighing them and evaluating their firmness. Thumbs flicked over my engorged nipples, and I groaned into his mouth. I've always had very sensitive nipples; sensitive enough to have caused me to climax with no other physical stimulation.
"They're perfect," he insisted again after breaking the kiss to look down at them. While his attention was on my chest, my attention was on his crotch. I made quick work of the belt, but the pants proved formidable.
"Take your pants off," I commanded, not wanting to waste any more time with them. It took a moment for the realization that this was going to be more than a breast-fondle finally cut through the fugue of his arousal. He had the slacks open quickly and down around his ankles before I could even get my panties over the curve of my hips. I worked faster, though, when I saw the head of a long, thick penis peaking out of the leg of his boxers.
"Hurry," I said, and hiked my skirt up around my waist before sitting on the edge of his desk. The boxers were gone in a flash, and I was finally able to bask in the sight of his beautiful length of swollen manhood. Long, thick, and arching upwards as if in anticipation, his cock was perfect. Any other time I would have taken great effort to admire and worship such a gorgeous specimen, but right now I wanted it inside me.
I scooched back and put my feet up on the desk, opening myself for him. He came into my embrace, locking lips again, and I guided him in. I gasped when the velvety head parted my tumid folds of smooth, silky flesh. I was tight enough to keep him from slipping in without effort, so I held him just outside of my slick channel, where he pressed harder and harder against my resistance.
I broke the kiss so I could look at his divine face, beads of sweat glistening across his brow. "Take off your shirt," I said in a husky whisper. He kept his hips tilted into me, but I continued to deny him entrance. I masturbated with his dick, my own flesh-and-blood dildo, while he fumbled at the small buttons of his shirt. He'd lost the jacket somewhere, but i don't remember when. It didn't matter. In fact, all coherent thought flew from my mind when I found my clit with the tip of his cock. I screamed and shuddered, but the orgasm danced away before it pulled me under.
I'd arched my back in the throes of my near-orgasm and before I'd fully regained my wits, I felt lips encircle my right nipple, and that strong, eager tongue flick over the stiff tip. It sent a current of sexual electricity through my body, coalescing behind my dripping pussy. I was grinding his cock against my clit more forcefully, riding wave after wave of the most delicious bliss. Finally, the ache grew too strong and I let him in.
I only had to place him at the entrance to my silky cleft. I braced myself for the thrust, but I wasn't prepared for what he did. The head of his cock was well coated in my flood of arousal, so I stretched easily for him. It felt magical and surreal. What caught me off guard, though, was when he bit down on the nipple he'd been licking, and twisted the other viciously between his fingers. The double jolt of pain made my body thrum like the strings of a bass guitar. The hard friction of his shaft descending into my core sent me over the edge, and the orgasm hit me brutally, stealing my breath, thoughts, and any awareness of anything outside my trembling, bucking body.
He began thrusting into my body as I came, extending the perfection until it almost became painful. When I was finally able to open my eyes, I saw his beautiful face in a sheen of sweat as he worked his cock in and out of my clenching cunt. He'd abandoned my nipples, but I didn't care. His cock fit me perfectly, and my sheathe gripped him firmly as he glided in and out. I could see him rising closer and closer to his own climax, using the full length of his shaft to fill me over and over.
"Not yet," I said when his breathing stopped and the speed of his pumping hips tested the limits of human ability, and pushed him away. The sudden absence of his member made me sigh. I dropped to my knees and took him in my hand. Looking up at him, I started pumping the thick shaft with one hand, and fondled a breast with the other. I kept watching his face, stroking faster and faster, tweaking my nipple, occasionally sucking the head into my mouth, and I found that I was nearing a climax as well.
A grunted "fuck!" was the only warning I got. His lean, toned, and tanned body shuddered once, then he came. The first hot rope of come, along with the tiny jolts of pain from my pinched nipple, sent me spiraling into another orgasm. I came as he came, painting my breasts with his semen. Thick ribbons of come criss-crossed my breasts, and some stronger spurts reached my chin and cheeks. Maybe it was my climax-addled brain, but I swear he came for three solid minutes. I bathed in it, savoring the smell, the sound, and the taste of the few shots I'd caught in my mouth.
As our orgasms began to fade, I used his prick to spread the come on my breasts, then licked him clean. I felt so empowered having the manifestation of his sexual satisfaction smeared on my chest, having him literally in the palm of my hand. I felt as though I could tell him to do anything I wanted, and he'd have done it. If I didn't have more errands to run, I probably would have.
We cleaned up in silence, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. I gathered my things, thanked him for his help, and left. I didn't give him my phone number and he didn't ask. Maybe I'll stop by again when I get my new tits.