A-Cup Runneth Over

College

Funny how it seems we all (or, women at least) want to look different to the way we do. We get an idea about what the perfect body type is, and invariably it’s something that we think we’re not. I mean, I used to really worry about it myself. I’m a medium height, browned-eyed brunette, with straight, shoulder length hair, and what I guess you might call an ‘athletic’ physique – which is to say I’m slender with very small breasts. I’m 29 now, and still the same 32A that I was as a teenager. These days I’m totally comfortable with myself exactly the way I am. But while I’ve always thought I had a pretty face, I did used to worry about being so flat-chested. It wasn’t just whether men would find me attractive (actually I’d also begun to notice an early tendency within myself to worry about whether certain women might find me attractive too!), but like so many teenagers I’d got this anxiety that breast size was directly proportional to one’s chances for success and happiness. I’ve come to realize that it actually doesn’t matter at all. Experience has shown me that there are a lot of men (and women too, as it turns out) who are very attracted to my body type and wouldn’t want it to be any other way. In fact, I’m convinced that whatever type of body you have there will always be plenty of people who are attracted to it – it seems to me that nature has a way of balancing these things out.

For me, learning how much pleasure my body could give me was one of the most important steps towards feeling at ease with myself. I discovered masturbation pretty early, and I have to say I took to it right away. I also soon learned that my breasts were a hot erogenous zone for me. I only have to lightly brush my fingers across my nipples and I get an incredible flush of sensation that sparkles down my belly, setting my clit tingling and getting me instantly wet. When I masturbate I’m constantly caressing, tweaking and teasing them. I love bringing myself right to the point of orgasm, holding myself there with my finger just fluttering over my clit, and then let the sensations I get from playing with my nipples take me over the edge. I’ve found that the more you learn to love yourself, the more you come to love your body just the way it is.

As I say, I’ve always found that men in particular are really complimentary about my figure, and I’ve been told that there are a lot of guys that find small-breasted women a real turn-on, often preferring us. I also know it from my own experience; I can usually tell which men have a thing about small tits by the way they look at my body, and it happens often enough that I wouldn’t call it uncommon. It was certainly the case with a guy I met last year when I was visiting Prague – an experience that also revealed some kinky desires of my own that I’d never have thought I might act upon.

I work as a researcher for a big financial firm in London and they’d sent me over canlı bahis to Prague to report on a two-day conference about investment opportunities in eastern Europe. It was the end of the second day, but as my flight wasn’t going out until the following morning I’d returned to the hotel. After having dinner there I moved to the bar to have a drink while deciding what to do with the remainder of the evening. It was a large bar and not very busy, so I sat in a booth and began leafing through some of the material I’d collected from the conference.

Not long after I’d sat down a man appeared at my shoulder and asked if he could join me. I looked up at him. He was perhaps in his late 30s or early 40s, nicely dressed, quite tall and slim, handsome too, with dark blonde, close-cropped hair. He had nice eyes I decided, and seemed friendly enough, so I invited him to sit down.

He said that he’d noticed me eating alone in the restaurant, and that he, like me, was a solitary business traveller far from home – in his case Copenhagen, though he spoke perfect English.

We exchanged polite, anonymous conversation for a while, and then there followed a pause in which each of us fell back into our own thoughts. It seemed as though we were both considering whether to move things on to a different level.

He spoke first, telling me that he’d found me captivatingly attractive from the first instant he’d seen me. I thanked him for the compliment and then, reading my unspoken assent, he went on, “Perhaps we have an opportunity here to make this evening a little more interesting.”

I smiled and looked into his eyes for a moment. “Perhaps.” I said.

We were quiet a moment longer. Then he finished his drink, looked directly at me again and smiled once more, “I’m in room 814. I’d be very happy if you’d join me for another drink later.” Without seeming to expect a definite answer to this he then stood up, nodded farewell, and left.

I sat there for a while reflecting on this odd episode. Now I should say that I’ve never really been into random sex with strangers, but at the same time I found myself becoming quite aroused by the idea in these circumstances. After all, I was single. In fact I hadn’t been with anyone for months and frankly I was horny. And there was something tantalizingly erotic and liberating about the anonymity of our situation; the fact that we were complete strangers who could do or be anything we wanted.

Anyway, I wasn’t sure. I’d enjoyed the flirting…and I did make a mental note of the room number!

Back in my own room, I got another gin and tonic from the mini bar and then took a shower. Towelling off, I stood appreciating my naked reflection in the tall mirror. Since the conversation in the bar my mind had become totally occupied with thoughts of sex and I was feeling a strong urge to masturbate. I spread my feet apart slightly and leant forwards, watching bahis siteleri myself caress my fingers up the inside of my thigh, across my tightly trimmed pubes, and then softly onto my clit. Rotating my finger just above the tip it began to swell, and the motion stirred delicious sensations inside me.

I took in the sight before me in the mirror: standing there, fingering my clit, stiff little nips pointing out from the pear-sized mounds of my breasts, my flat stomach tensed, my legs taking on a sensuous definition as they braced me against the floor. Even if I say so myself, I looked pretty good.

It was only at this moment that I finally decided what I was going to do.

With an effort of will I took my hand from my pussy and straightened up. I quickly dried my hair, then dressed in a black knee-length skirt and a white silk blouse that always shows my figure to very good effect, especially, as now, without a bra. Then, with my heart pounding, I left my room, went up two floors, and knocked gently on the door of 814.

He opened it wearing just a robe. Showing me into the softly lit room he passed me a glass of wine from an open bottle, and said he was very happy that I’d decided to come. The wine steadied my nerves and, although we sat silently, the atmosphere was comfortable between us and soon I’d relaxed a bit.

He looked over at me, then said slowly, “I wonder if we might….” He hesitated, seeming unsure whether he should say what he was about to. Then, still searching for the right words, he went on “You see…for me it’s always better…I like to watch…if you understand….”

Although slightly taken aback, I considered the implications of this statement for a moment. I’d been into mutual masturbation with a couple of my former partners and I’ve always found it a turn-on.

“Um, yes, I can understand that…” I began, but trailed off, these words seeming to be enough.

As this all sank in, I began to feel the giddy pull of an exhibitionist desire to do something wanton in front of this attractive stranger.

I stood up and stepped out of my skirt and tights, but kept my blouse and panties on. He remained seated, so I knelt down on the floor in front of him.

His eyes were fixed on me and I sensed them tracing the slight curve of my breasts. His gaze settled on the erect nubs that were pushing out against the fabric of my blouse, the dark swollen areolae clearly visible through the fine weave. I looked down myself and saw that it made quite an enticing sight.

“They’re beautiful.” he said, his voice taking on a husky breathlessness, “Please touch them.” I didn’t really need any prompting because I was now quite seriously aroused by this whole strange scenario.

My fingers traced a path across my shoulders and slowly down over my chest. They came to rest lightly upon my nipples and I gently moved my fingers back and forth, bahis şirketleri grazing the silk of the blouse against them until I shivered involuntarily.

Eager now to touch my own skin I undid the buttons and let the blouse fall open. I shrugged it back so that it slipped behind my shoulders and exposed my breasts to him. His breathing deepened and I could sense his growing excitement. He opened his robe to reveal his erection, but his hands went first to his own nipples. Clearly he got a similar kick from them as I did, and as I watched him touching himself I brought my hands back up to my own breasts.

I could feel my panties were wet. I moved my right hand down under the cotton waistband and slipped it along the folds of my labia, which opened up in a gush of musky moisture that I rubbed upwards to lubricate my clit.

I was so turned on that I felt close to coming already. I stopped working my clit and brought my shiny fingers up to smear the wetness from pussy onto my right nipple. He groaned at the sight of this and for the first time his right hand moved down to his cock, while with the left he continued the attention to his own nipples.

He moved forward to the edge of the chair, bringing his penis level with my breasts as I knelt between his legs, and it was then that I realized where he wanted to go with this. He reached down beside the chair and produced a bottle of baby oil, poured some into his right hand and offered the bottle to me. I love the feel of oil, so I smoothed the shining lube over my breasts while my other hand went back into my panties and found my clit.

I leaned forward so that my highly erect right nipple was touching the tip of his cock, rocking my shoulders slightly so that it brushed against the end, opening up the slit like a little mouth. Letting out a moan he squeezed his cock, swelling the glans to a smooth bulb, and began to drag it back and forth across my slippery nipple as his hand wanked up and down his shaft. My left hand was pinching at my other tit, massaging the nipple between thumb and forefinger, while the steady stroke of my index finger against my clit was melting my will to resist. My head was swimming with a deliciously slutty and abandoned feeling, almost delirious as both the idea and the sensations of this stranger’s oily cock sliding against my teat took me over the edge. I glazed for a moment, back arching, mouth falling open, then my breath caught in a gasp and I was quivering all over as the warm spasming rush of orgasm flooded my body. I realized that in perfect time with me he too had peaked, pushing forward convulsively to maintain contact with my tit as he pumped a streak of pearl white cum over my chest and up onto my shoulder.

We both slumped, our breathing unsteady for a few moments. Then he stood up, pulling the robe around him, and handed me some tissues from the bedside cabinet. He smiled briefly, almost a little sheepishly, then said “Thank you.”

I smiled back, “My pleasure.”

Five minutes later I slipped back to my room and in the morning caught my flight home. I never saw him again.

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