Susan was sitting at the kitchen table, looking, I don't know... I guess "perky" would be the word.
"Your breasts look pretty cute in that T-shirt," I said, equally cheery.
It was one of those V-neck things which extended just low enough that the barest amount of cleavage was exposed, unusual for Susan. It was hard to tell if she was wearing a bra or not. Her nipples weren't quite poking out and the shapes beneath the shirt were heavy and rounded, but she looked that way with or without.
"Why, thank you kind sir. And my girls thank you too." She gave be a big smile, and whipped up the T and almost growling, "You wanna fuck these ole hangin' titties pal?" She flopped them around, clearly she was without.
Instant erection, I loved her jiggle. The kids were at Grandpa's and with Susan that could mean either sexy time or resting time, I never knew which. Today, she was making it pretty clear.
"Your are not sagging, and sure lovebug, bundle me up and let's see what comes out," I said as I pushed my zippered jeans up against her back and reached up her shirt.
"Oh honey, that feels nice." She pulled her T all the way off. "But come around front so these babies can work their mama magic."
Not one to disobey a lady, I moved around to her front as commanded and shimmied in between her blue jean covered legs and her completely uncovered top. Susan's hands did quick work of my belt buckle and trouser zipper, fishing out my stiffie and giving it a lick.
"Bay-bee! If I knew my tits would always get this reaction I'd stay topless forever," Susan whispered, almost in surprise. "C'mon closer, let Bert and Ernie have a threesome with Willie."
Before I knew it, my hard on was enveloped in her chest, feeling good. Susan swaddled my tip with her wet tongue, and not feeling it was enough she dribbled down as much saliva as she could manage to lubricate the whole endeavor.
"Feeling good, my man? What's it like inside my pillows, you like?"
I nodded, "I like, I like," because I did. "It almost like I'm in your cooch, but I can see how I'm fucking it." What? "I have no idea what I'm saying, it just feels goddamned hot. Hmmmm, more."
Her breasts were pistoning up, my sensitivity rising with them. "If you don't slow down my dick is going to..."
Susan had pushed her right fist down between her own legs, moving in time with our whole bodies. "Going to what? Shoot? Shoot your milk all over my milkers? C'mon, do it! Spray it all over my face and I'll squirt right through my pants! Let's come together lover!"
That did it. My balls started to empty out all over. When I was able to open my eyes the stuff had hit her chin and neck and was already dripping down to the tips of her nipples. When I looked down, sure enough, the crotch of her jeans had turned almost black with wet. Come together is right.
...
As I was drying up and she was trying to get her saturated pants down, Susan looked up at me.
"Why 'breasts?' Why are they always my 'breasts...'"
Here we go again.
"...and not my hooters, or my melons, or my ...? Why are you constantly so damned polite about my boobage?"
She started laughing even though we'd had this conversation before. But never, ever around sexy time.
You can tell that neither of us could be considered shy. Far from it, we were both pretty GGG... good, giving, and for sure, game. Kinky described our sex games pretty well, everything from anal to watersports, and most things in between. With some pretty explicit dirty talk along the way. All the same, when it came to her mammary glands, for me they were always "breasts."
"I've told you before, for some reason... it always feels, I don't know, disrespectful." I was raised by a pretty powerful mom, and with two younger sisters. "Not that your breasts don't feel great sweety," I hastened to add.
"Oh come on! Are you being respectful when you call me your cum slut? I don't hear either of us being too respectful," she almost spat it out, "when I'm begging you to unload your stuff all over my ass and you're screaming that you want me to spread my cheeks so you can give me a sperm enema."
She definitely had a point. When it came time for fucking, there was no "making love" for us. Down and dirty sexy time, every time. Whatever I needed to do to turn Susan on, I'd do it for her. She'd do the same for me, no matter how depraved she needed to be. And even when it came to her, uh, top area, I could go for it. No areola for me.
"Want me to pinch your nips? Or bite them?"
"Pull my buttons baby. Stretch them 'til I screech. Then grab them harder. Make 'em cry!"
But when it came to her actual breasts, to me they were always... breasts. And they were plenty arousing just as any two... you know, breasts.
"I pinch them, I bite them, I manhandle them, just like you want. And I kiss them, lick them, hold them, caress them, worship them, stare at them, get hard at them, come all over them."
"Hooters, jugs, sweater meat! Ta-tas, puppies! I need you to treat my titties as dirty as the rest of me!"
