My wife had always been self-conscious about her big tits but I never minded. I knew I was a pervert. I'd been into big tits for as long as I can remember. I had always ogled women with the big ones, the kind that needed a bra to stay holstered in place. Except I would long to see real women's big tits without the bra and I would scour the internet, hoping to find just the right amount of boobage to keep my cock throbbing.
When I met my wife, I knew she was the right woman for me by the way her huge breasts hung in her tight, pink shirt with no bra, her nipples protruding through the fabric where I could admire them. I couldn't even look her in the eyes. All I could focus on was the gloriousness of her breasts. They were so glorious that I could feel my cock instantly harden and a longing deep inside of me to get to know her. I forced myself to walk up to her and say something. To my shock, she was interested in me! I kept at her until she was mine. Her beautiful, glorious breasts were perfect and I adored them with all of my might. I tried my best to give her what she needed but I knew that I was selfish, and I suppose she did too. I couldn't resist objectifying those tits. They were just too awesome.
We had been married almost five years the day that I took her to the mall. We'd been to the mall before but this day was different than other days. She was wearing a pink shirt, just like the one she had been wearing the day that we met. It woke something inside of me, a lecherous, evil spirit that made me want to objectify those tits. She was talking to me, but I wasn't listening. All I could see was the rise and fall of her big tits with her breath. All I could see was the way her nipples were sticking through the fabric. I wanted to touch them. I wanted to suck them. I wanted to pull them.
"Honey? Are you even listening to me? Can we go over to Cheesecake Mill? I want a piece of cheesecake."
I knew she was talking and that I should have been listening. After all, she was my wife. She deserved more than I was capable of giving her. I had no idea why she had chosen me to settle down with. I was obsessed with her tits. They moved up and down with her breath. I stared at her nipples, transfixed by their beauty. I forgot to answer her.
"Bob! Up here!" She grabbed my face with both hands and pulled my face up until I was looking into her eyes. I looked at her sheepishly, upset that she had pulled me away from those perfect nipples.
"I'm sorry, honey. Your tits are just so perfect. They are so fabulous. Look at these nipples. I love that you hate wearing bras. I love that your nipples are visible through your shirt. It's such a thin shirt, you little slut. It's like you're trying to make my cock hard."
"Maybe I am," she shrugged. "But we're at the mall. You can't do anything here!"
"Wanna bet?" I asked her and my fingers sprung to life, moving to her nipples and closing around them both with a precision that had come from handling her breasts all those years. I knew what I was doing and I knew that she loved it when I objectified and worshipped her tits. I gripped her nipples and twisted them a bit, right there in the food court. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, but everyone else seemed caught up in their own mall experience. I could do whatever I wanted and so I pulled my wife by the nipples through the food court.
"Bob! Stop! That hurts!"
"No, it doesn't!" I told her. "I know you love this shit. Now take it, honey. Show me what a slut you are. Let me pull you across the mall by your tits. Let it happen."
"Bob, you are so bad! There are families here!"
