Beths Breakup

Beth didn't know what had gone wrong last night. She had felt rejected for the last year as her boyfriends sex drive slowly dropped, to now, apparently non existent. The last time they had sex was nearly 9 months ago.

Endless rejection made her feel that she was somehow unattractive now. This morning after her shower she spent a long moment watching herself in the mirror, turning, arching and bending, staring at the same parts that men stared at trying to figure out why her boyfriend was no longer interested. For the most part Beth was petite, toned 31 year old. Long and straight dark hair, 5'4", slight in the shoulders, pretty in the face, 32 B, slim waist, firm stomach. When you got below her waist however, you would stop calling her petite. Her hips were nearly 40 inches, and her butt was round and firm. Men at college used to joke that it came out of the small of her back at such an angle you could set a drink on it. One morning after being told that she tried it in the mirror with a can of hairspray before putting her clothes on, and it worked.

She cupped her breasts, tried to jiggle her firm ass, and made silly kissy faces in the mirror. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with HIM?" Beth made up her mind right then that she no longer had a boyfriend.

Last night they had gone to diner, and when they returned to his place after she slowly stripped off her clothes. Under her sexy, but conservative office wear she was wearing something she had picked up for just this occasion. Her last stand. A pale, lace, off-white half cup bra, with matching garters and panties. She loved the set on the rack, and tried it all on in the store except for the panties. There was a small problem with the panties. Actually, it was a big problem. Her ass. The panties were bikini cut, and she typically only wore thongs, not for any reason other than the fact that her disproportionately massive butt simply didn't fit in anything else. At the risk of ripping the flimsy lace bikini briefs by forcing them up over her ass she didn't try them on. Out of preemptive embarrassment of being asked why she wanted it all but the panties, he bought all three pieces and a pair of black sheer stockings. Beth told herself she could just match a thong to the bra and garter later.

The night of their last date came, and she could find nothing that matched the delicate sheer lace of the set. As she got ready to do everything she could to get laid for a change, she saw no other option but to just wear them. It was only for tonight. Stretched tight over her ass they looked ridiculous. The waist band didn't make it more than two thirds of the way up her ass crack, and it cut into the flesh so deep you could have rolled a quarter in the seams. Looking at it in the mirror she said out loud, "It's just for tonight. It's kinda trashy hot I guess."

She put the garter on, pulling the straps under the waistband of the panties, followed by the bra and the stockings. She looked at herself again in the mirror, and just couldn't go through with wearing panties two sizes too small. She took them off, groaned and threw them on the bed. She went to her closet, opened her underwear drawer and picked through it for anything that remotely matched.

Returning to the mirror with an armload of underpants, Beth went about the task of trying each on in turn to find a pair that matched, and most importantly fit.

It was like looking for the Holy Grail in Kansas.

Beth had slid no less than 30 pairs of panties up over the garter, snapping the elastic of waistbands and thongs into place, turning around in the mirror to see how they looked. Huffing after each rejected pair, slipping them down and throwing them on the floor of the nearby closet. None of them matched well enough to look right.

"Maybe they'll stretch," she said, giving up and scooping the tiny briefs off the bed.

After their date she she stood in his living room between the sofa and the tv, clothes in a heap nearby, giving her boyfriend time to take in the sight of the underwear set she was so proud of.

It did little for him.

She approached him on the sofa, slowly walking in her heels, swinging her hips like they were the pendulum that kept the world turning. When she got close, she placed a hand on the crotch of his slacks and found him limp. She pulled out a smoky bedroom voice and asked, "Need any help with that?"

She unzipped him and put his limp cock directly in her mouth, and went to work trying to harden it.

Nothing happened.

She kept trying. Minutes of slobbering on his shriveled, limp dick later, he gave up. Apologizing and saying he apparently wasn't in the mood, he got up from the sofa and went to bed.

Still on her knees in front of the sofa when the bedroom door closed at 8:30, Beth said under her breath, "Fuck this." She kicked off her heels, peeled the uncomfortable panties off her ass like the skin off an unripe mango, grabbed her bathrobe, and got in the kitchen freezer after a bottle of vodka. She flopped on the sofa, and found a movie on cable. It had an actor in it she thought was kind of attractive, but not exactly good looking. Halfway through her drink she muted the sound so as not to be distracted by the plot, parted her robe, and masturbated listlessly, staring at him and fantasizing simply about him getting a hard on before it was even in her mouth.

Now, checking herself out in the mirror after her shower, replaying the events of the night before, and making her mind up that she was now single, Beth breathed in deeply the relief of freedom. She left the bathroom to get dressed for work, she had a presentation this morning at a local college in front of 300 grad students. Her boyfriend almost always left before her, and today was no different. In the bedroom she got into the one dresser drawer she kept at his apartment, and stood staring blankly into the emptiness. Empty?

"Fucking bastard." She closed the drawer imagining him taking the contents to the trash chute on his way out this morning. "You can't do that. I'm breaking up with YOU." She groaned, and stomped around finding her clothes from last night. What she had worn last night was date-sexy, but still business appropriate. In the living room she picked the short black pencil skirt out of the heap of clothes, slightly wrinkled and heavy with rejection. She straightened it, thought to herself that it would be fine. Bending to pick up the tight white blouse, she thought unprompted, "What about underwear?" She looked up with dread at the tiny panties still on the coffee table.

She groaned again, dropped the clothes she was straightening and went to work rounding up the pieces of her underwear set. After wiggling her gigantic ass into the scrap of sheer lace she looked in the mirror at the elastic cutting in again, this time with the idea of wearing them to work in her mind. She firmly cupped the underside of one of her cheeks and let it bounce, watching everything twist and sway like those videos of suspension bridges collapsing in the wind.

"Maybe they'll stretch." She sounded less hopeful this time. She thought it was more likely they would just shred. The thought of that made her feel like she was exacting some sort of torture on the ill fitting garment. Looking at them one last time in the mirror she negotiated, "Commando?" She had never done that with a skirt without at least pantyhose before. Even the uncomfortable panties would be more comfortable than giving her presentation with just the breeze against her pussy.

She was wearing them. That was that. She put the stockings and the rest of her clothes on, did her make up, and left her boyfriends apartment for the last time, kicking her key under the door when she left.

She had never taken the time to check how the tight pencil skirt fit over the tiny panties. Being mostly a thong wearer, checking for panty lines before she left never really crossed her mind. If it had, she probably would have recounted her decision and just gone without. Her panty lines were not only visible, but likely so from space. If they were channels in the dirt instead of her ass, you could irrigate North Africa with them.

Leaving the building, and clicking down the street on her heels to the subway station, Beth breathed deep a breath of freedom. Knowing that either they just had, or would be impenitently broken up felt like a great weight had been lifted off of her. She was so taken with the feeling that she did not notice the extra attention that her savagely scaled posterior, creased with VPL, was getting. Down on the platform she waited for an uptown train, and when one arrived, it was crowded, but gratefully she still found a seat. Maybe today was going to be alright even if it started off on the wrong foot.

As she went to sit a gentleman tried to stop her, but he didn't try too hard. He smiled when it was too late and went about his business getting off at the next stop. On second thought, he was no gentleman.

There was a reason the seat was vacant, but Beth had not noticed at all. Instead she opened her briefcase and reviewed her Powerpoint for later in the day.

Early this morning a young man had been arrested on that very train. His charge was indecent exposure. He had been masturbating furiously at an older woman headed to work. The police had not noticed that the young man had finished, and New Yorkers being New Yorkers the puddle had been noticed and then artfully ignored by everyone that had been near it.

Even Beth had ignored it.

Her preoccupation with her now ex-boyfriend had kept her from noticing that her blessed empty seat was pooled with one of the biggest cumshots Beth would have seen to date, if she had seen it. Instead it was now coating her ass in a thin glaze of semen.

She wasn't on the train long enough for it to soak completely through, so it continued to go unnoticed. At her stop she stood, strings of cum forming and snapping between her glorious backside and the damp seat. She funneled toward the escalator as the alternative at this stop was 14 flights of stairs. The escalator went all the way up in one go, and was narrow and single file to dissuade people from pushing ahead. Her heels clomped onto the metal grate of the escalator, and a shabby man in his late twenties stepped on the grate behind her. As the grates lifted apart, her ass was brought up nearly to this young man's eye level.

He didn't stare more than 5 seconds before he started snapping cellphone pictures of her cum soaked, large and round, impossibly firm ass, with deep pantylines. After a satisfying number, he thought that even though jacking off to those later would be very gratifying, he had it right here, right now. Why not? He looked over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear. The woman behind him was engrossed in a romance novel.

The coast was clear.

He took out his cock, and set to work attempting to memorize the details of the drying cumstain of a Rorschach test on her ass. Holding his bulky jacket open a little to further hide the view from behind, he worked his cock furiously to finish before he lost the opportunity with her present. When the orgasm started to boil, he made no attempt to catch his load, he just tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling slowly getting closer.

As the mechanical stairs leveled out her ass lowered to his crotch height and he began spurting cum. Shot after shot of thick, pearly white cum splattered into the already damp fabric of her skirt. It was more cum than he had ever seen himself produce, and it covered her ass in a thick, gooey lattice, but he kept cumming even after she stepped off, his last two shots splattering on the floor to be trampled. He stumbled off of his grate, clutching his jacket closed to hide his deflating erection and disappeared into the crowd.

Beth was still completely unaware of anything other than the feeling of being free from a horrid relationship. On the escalator ride she was making lists of things she could do now, that her suffocating and unfulfilling relationship had previously precluded.

Men were breaking their necks as she walked by before, but now that the parts they were looking at were also clearly and completely coated in cum, she was causing accidents. Clicking down the street in her heels a man walking the other direction craned his head to look at her backside, and plowed directly into a light pole when he saw it. A panhandler sitting on the sidewalk dropped a cigarette from his agape jaw, straight into his hat full of crumpled bills setting it ablaze. A construction worker got half a catcall out, and choked out in awe once she was past and he got a view of her backside. A garbage truck driver plowed into a parked sedan, pushing it up onto the sidewalk.

Beth was oblivious in her bliss to all but the construction worker. To him she just groaned, and clicked faster, swinging her hips like mad.

She got to the lecture hall and started setting up. Her presentation was about global economics at an all men's college she had partnered with over the last few years. The lecture hall filled with nearly 300 students (all men), she got a little nervous, they put the house lights down, and she thought she did well in the end.

The college used a set up where there was a camera on her for the whole presentation, projecting her face speaking to one screen, and her Powerpoint to another.

Her presentation was nearly and hour, and unbeknownst to her, most of the male students were snapping cell phone pics of her stained and poorly contained backside every chance they got. The cameraman also had a very difficult time keeping the camera on Beth's face.

She didn't notice any of that.

She did notice that there seemed to be a lot of movement in the first few rows, as if the students were moving their hands a lot. She had no idea what it was.

At the end of the presentation they opened the floor to questions. Beth loved this part. It was challenging and kept her brain on it's toes. She was ready to feel good at something again.

There was a microphone set up in the aisle, and one of the only lights on in the house was above it. The first student to it, cleared his throat, and asked Beth the most difficult question she had ever been asked after a presentation.

"Is that cum on your ass?"

Beth's heart skipped a beat. Her eyes shot open as wide as they could open, and she craned her head over her shoulder, whipping her hair to look. She groaned when she saw her ass. It did indeed look like dried cum. "How did that happen?" And adding insult to injury, the tiny panties were giving her the worlds worst pantylines. "Pantylines? I look like a tramp!"

The student continued, "So it is cum?"

"It looks like it, yeah," she huffed a little, irritated, "Argh." Beth got in her purse for some kleenex, and started wiping them on her ass, fruitlessly trying to clean off the now dried cum. The cameraman didn't skip a beat, getting every pass she made with the kleenex up on the screen. Beth's cumstained butt, 20 feet wide, ravaged with pantylines, for all to see.

One student in the front row, could take no more. He had been stroking his cock for almost the whole presentation and was read to explode. He jumped up while Beth's head was turned over her shoulder attempting to clean up. He stopped right in front of her, threw his head back and grunted and blasted his wad all over the front of her skirt, droplets splattering on her stockings, and globs of it dripping onto her shoes.

Beth turned to face him, completely stunned. She looked at the man's lingering orgasm face, and blankly said, "What the fuck, dude?"

The cameraman circled getting her front in the viewfinder. He panned down from her waist, catching the glistening semen trailing down her skirt, soaking into her stockings, and adding extra sheen to the toes of her patent leather heels.

That was enough for the rest of the front row.

As Beth was looking down at the mess, about to start dabbing the kleenex on the front of her skirt this time, she was blind sided by four more men. All four had their hard cocks out, all four were blazing red, swollen to the point of orgasm. The cameraman, in preparation for what was coming maneuvered around them to get a clear shot of her in the crowd. All four came at nearly the same time.

They had run up to her front, mostly getting it on her below the waist. Her stockings drinking up great patches of, and the wool of her skirt clinging to some, but her shoes paid the ultimate price due to nothing other than gravity. The toes of each shoe was nearly completely coated now, some even soaking through her stockings and dripping down the sides of her feet into her shoes. One of the men was tall enough that his deposit had sprayed the front of her blouse turning spots of it translucent.

Beth's face expressed alarm. "What are you doing?" she asked in a huff, stomping the toe of one shoe in a puddle for emphasis. Beth's attitude overall was more one of indigence than outrage. As soon as she stomped, another man had come up from the auditorium and come on her, this time on to her ass again some of it splattering onto her left hand. "Ew!" Beth whipped to look at him when she felt it, and in turning realized that the stage was now full with men who had left their seats, cocks in hand, intent on blowing their load as the previous six had.

"Oh shit." Beth dropped the kleenex out of shock.

And then they were on her.

In the next several moments, the men in the crowd descended on her. She could only ever see four or five at a time, and the cameraman was always right there. After they came new ones always rotated in. Someone in her field of sight was cumming nearly nonstop. They seemed content for now just jacking off on her clothes. When she would attempt to shield herself someone inevitably pulled her hands away.

In short time she took at least 30 more shots quickly in skirt, excess soaking her stockings in streaks and gobs, polishing her shoes, and pooling inside them, squishing under her feet. The skin under her skirt was feeling damp from it. A few taller men, and those who could make up the distance were able to reach her blouse, soaking it to transparent nearly instantly. It clung to Beth's tits, and exposed hints of the classy bra she wore.

The hem of her skirt started to be lifted from behind. Beth squealed, "Noooo," and attempted to reach back and hold it down, but her hands were pulled to the front, not only making her unable to hold it down, but forcing her to bend at a slight angle. As soon as the skirt was up around her waist, exposing the garter, the tiny panties, and her improbably giant butt, three men came on it at once.

The panties were little barrier.

The lace of their construction barely slowed the cum down on it's way deep into her ass crack. It dripped down coating her asshole, and following the channels creased by the elastic of the panties. It pooled on the inside of the gusset nestled against her pussy, and dripped from the outside of her crotch.

One man in front of her tucked a single finger into the waistband and held the panties open enough to cum into her natural pubes and let the waistband snap back into place, splattering cum over the top and through the lace with a squish. Beth still had her hands held, but made eye contact with the man, "Really?" He shrugged. As he turned to disappear into the crowd Beth sarcastically said, "Thanks, guy."

Beth was aware that some of the cum was starting to get in her hair, down her cleavage, and over her collarbones. From the neck down she was completely soaked and still fully clothed. This was not looking good, but she knew there was nothing she could do to have stopped it.

There was a yanking at her hips, and a long hard tearing sound as her skirt came off. Over the clamor of the crowd Beth could clearly hear it splatter to the floor. Her blouse followed suit, splattering off in the other direction. Beth was now only wearing the underwear set that had failed to get her laid, her patent leather heels, and semen.