Most, if not all of the time, I prefer the A in T&A.
What can I say? I’m a back door man. Given a choice, the south end of a north bound Leigh is where I want to be. Always have been, always will be. There is nothing I do not like about the curvature of an amazing female ass, and I definitely prefer it to breasts.
Well, almost always.
There is one way Leigh can make me a T Man in an instant. And keep in mind she buys bras in 40D which, in her words, “make The Girls™ look magnificent.” All she has to do is one thing and one thing only and I, in essence, lose about 100 IQ points and any form of social grace.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I transport back into being 13 year old Scot as far as being a hopeless slave to being titillated, literally. So what does she do to make me forget my…..
Who…oh yeah, Scot! My name! What does she have to do?
Thrust The Girls™ way out high, taut, tall and proud. Make them strain under the restrictions only provided by her flesh and velvety white skin. Firm, full, spitting in gravity’s face with a “Fuck You! These cannot be contained!” attitude, their pink nipples proudly capping gently wrinkled areola.
I. Lose. It. Just go fucking crazy when they are made firm, tight and aching to be touched.
Often in bed the act of her arms above her head is almost enough to do this. A subtle curvature of her spine upward will do the rest. And my hands will be on them like white on rice.
So you can imagine how, with her arms cuffed securely at full extension above her head, how spectacular the sweater ponies of the 40D Ranch reared up. Her nipples cast the most insane, eye rolling shadows across the jutting curvatures they resided upon. Candlelight is and always will be one of her best friends.
It was everything I could do to not have torn right into playing with them from the start. You know how they say in regards to parental punishment “This is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you!” Well, I won’t go as far as to say I felt that way, nor did I believe for a second she was not going to be in less pain than I, but trust me I was fucking aching to play with her stretched, taut breasts.
After I finished the appetizer that was her arms, it was time for the first course. Make up your own culinary breast joke.
I walked behind her and allowed my hands to rest on the upper sweep of her thighs. Leaning in close I peered over her shoulder, my chin barely resting on it. Looking down her exposed torso from that view was breathtaking. Every goose bump was easily discernible, her skin ripe with adrenaline and anticipation.
She knew what was coming. And could not do a fucking thing about it.
The only thing left to make this perfect was, with barely a nudge of my chest, force her body to lean out against the full restraint of the chain’s tension. She couldn’t have shifted forward more than three or four inches.
But what it did for her breasts was exquisite. In essence her own body was now a form of breast bondage. Her skin stretched so fucking tight it lifted them out, up and full of the most delicious tension in their taut predicament.
“Ohhhhhhh, fuck baby!” I whispered as my hands started their snail’s pace ascent up her torso, reveling in the squirms and twists of her helplessness to avoid their delicate touch.
Her hips ground back into mine, the valley between her ass cheeks milking the erection hidden inside my faded jeans. My eyes widened at the sight of those two Girls™ straining hard into the candlelit night. Leigh’s breathing started to grow ragged, shorter, even shrill as my fingers danced up her torso. Closer and closer they approached her heaving bosoms, the swell of her distressed breathing causing them to grow even more strained, if that were possible.
I was going mad with lust at the sight, sounds and feel of her impending misfortune, or fortune if you so view it as such.
The Chains™ tunngggd as she pulled in vain to escape the inevitable. I love how she fought to no avail. She always does. She always loses to them.
That moment when the back of my thumbs first made contract with the underside of each breast was magic. Just fucking magic. So soft, full, lush, tender.
So close. So very fucking close.
I gently bit the nape of her neck, just allowing my teeth to scrape dryly across the skin’s surface. She cannot stand this. Its like turning the faucet on below. Hot breath mixed with a hint of saliva is a lethal combination that often precedes lethal injection, if you will. Sinking into my oral ministrations, her head leaned back and away from my mouth, which is exactly what I wanted. For not only did she offer me her rigid nape to devour, but she also gave me a much better view of what was going to happen.
The fact her head tilt stretched her chest even more was the icing on my evil cake.
I swear her breasts looked as if they were about to explode from the tension being applied both tactilely and internally. And the erection she was grinding her ass against wasn’t far behind.
With my mouth literally watering at the sight and anticipation, my hands started to snake over all that taut, voluptuous flesh, with only an excuse touching her extremely proud nipples.
“Hhmmmmmm” she cooed at the warmth now adoring her chest, all the while as my mouth devoured her neck and shoulder. I breathed hot and heavy at the sensations coursing from my fingertips. Gently, softly caressing, my open palms savoring this moment. Again and again my hands and fingers teased, stroked, kissed The Girls™ and made them cry. Over and over. Again. And again. It was maddening for us both.
With fingers wide I covered as much of each as I could, then firmly squeezed and kneaded them in a victorious exclamation to their surrender. Leigh melted into their grasp, slumping under the weight of the moment.
My thumbs and pointer fingers placed a nipple each in their stead. Not for pleasure. Oh no. Oh fuck no.