melonboobs
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jun 25, 2010
- Messages
- 194
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My co-workers wanted me to seduce my boss. He was nearly 30 and rumoured to be a virgin. They noticed that he often sneaked a peek (when he though no one was looking) at women's backsides down the long aisles at the Target where we worked. Once in a while, I caught him gazing at my sizeable breasts, and when my eyes met his, he'd shyly avert his face. I don't blame him for looking--I've got what you might call some real watermelons. Many men get stuck just staring at my freakish boobs (all natural by the way). I suppose it's normal. Anyway, my co-workers all thought he needed sex badly because he was an irritable manager, frequently giving orders in an exasperated voice and muttering cuss words under his breath when things weren't done exactly the way he wanted them. They figured, if he had sex, he'd calm down and beome easier to work with. They chose me because I was recently divorced and had gigantic breasts no man could ever resist.
For my part I was genuinely interested in him, mainly for financial reasons. I was poor. He was college educated and well-to-do. My husbands had both been womanizers who once they'd fulfilled their big breast fantasies had lost intereste in me and strayed. Plus, they were losers who left me in financial debt.
I did my best to entice Matt to ask me out. I showed him my giant cleavage at every opportunity, dropped hints, some not even subtle. He couldn't overcome his shyness or obtuseness, so finally I asked him out, dreading he would embarrass me by declining. He agreed, however, and on our second date he even suggested we go to bed together which I agreed to.
He was a mousy man, small, and he wore glasses. I was pleasantly surprised when he took off his shirt, revealing a lean muscular torso. He obviously worked out. He enjoyed my gigantic breasts, and even seemed to like my fat ass--a part of my body I always hid with loose clothes. I am not fat, but I am a little on the heavy side, having big bones. Nevertheless, he wanted me on top of him and I obliged.
The rumours were true--he didn't really know what he was doing, but I showed him what to do.
A few weeks later I heard him giving one of my friends a hard time after she didn't do a particular task correctly. She complained to me that my seduction had failed to calm his irritable attitude. I knew he preferred me on top and understood why he was always so cranky. He didn't like being boss.
That gave me an idea.
On our next date I introduced the furry handcuffs which he allowed me to put on him with no objection whatsoever, vindicating my suspicion. I sat on him and buried his face with my enormous boobs, forcing him to turn his head to the side so he could breathe. I placed one boob on his face, and ne mouthed the nipple. My pussy, already moist, almost flooded.
He was like a helpless baby. Wickedly, I asked him if he was ticklish.
He didn't answer, so I decided to find out. I tickled his ribs while my boob filled his mouth. He wheezed and contracted.. My boobs covered his facte so I couldn't see his reaction. I tickled again. He wheezed again. I started caressing his chest, alternating the tickling with the rubbing, my boobs still smothering his face, hiding his reaction. This was too much for him. He let out a high pitched laugh. I sat up straight and saw his flushed cheeks, an apprehensive smile on his face. My big boobs dominated his vision. Even when I sat straight up, they're so large they stretched to over his chin. His hands were handcuffed together in a praying position, as if he was praying to me, the Goddess of Big Boobs.
"The boss is in quite a predicament," I said. "One of his slaves has revolted and captured him and now knows he's ticklish. What will she do?"
I leaned over again, my boobs re-covering his face, and he laughed even before I resumed tickling him. It was a steady nasal laugh now. I could tell he was enjoying himself--I could feel his boner throbbing under my ass.
"Carrie, Carrie, stop it," he said between giggles.
"Oh no. Not until you promise to stop being mean to everyone at work."
He said nothing but tried to block my fingers with his elbows. I reached behind me and tickled his balls and legs.
"No, no, no, I order you to stop this," he said between more laughter.
"In my bed you don't tell me what to do. You may be the boss at the store, but in my bed I'm the boss."
"Please, please, I'll do anything," he pleaded desperately, his nasal laughs, occasionally interspersed with high pitched giggles. He squirmed around under me like a man on fire.
"Do you promise not to be mean to us at work any more?"
"I promise, I promise. I give up."
The look on his face was one of total humiliation.
I stopped tickling him and mercilessly masturbated him as slowly as I could until I could no longer bear it myself and rode him to orgasm.
Ever since this episode, he's been much nicer to everyone at work, as long I tickle torture him at least once a month.
For my part I was genuinely interested in him, mainly for financial reasons. I was poor. He was college educated and well-to-do. My husbands had both been womanizers who once they'd fulfilled their big breast fantasies had lost intereste in me and strayed. Plus, they were losers who left me in financial debt.
I did my best to entice Matt to ask me out. I showed him my giant cleavage at every opportunity, dropped hints, some not even subtle. He couldn't overcome his shyness or obtuseness, so finally I asked him out, dreading he would embarrass me by declining. He agreed, however, and on our second date he even suggested we go to bed together which I agreed to.
He was a mousy man, small, and he wore glasses. I was pleasantly surprised when he took off his shirt, revealing a lean muscular torso. He obviously worked out. He enjoyed my gigantic breasts, and even seemed to like my fat ass--a part of my body I always hid with loose clothes. I am not fat, but I am a little on the heavy side, having big bones. Nevertheless, he wanted me on top of him and I obliged.
The rumours were true--he didn't really know what he was doing, but I showed him what to do.
A few weeks later I heard him giving one of my friends a hard time after she didn't do a particular task correctly. She complained to me that my seduction had failed to calm his irritable attitude. I knew he preferred me on top and understood why he was always so cranky. He didn't like being boss.
That gave me an idea.
On our next date I introduced the furry handcuffs which he allowed me to put on him with no objection whatsoever, vindicating my suspicion. I sat on him and buried his face with my enormous boobs, forcing him to turn his head to the side so he could breathe. I placed one boob on his face, and ne mouthed the nipple. My pussy, already moist, almost flooded.
He was like a helpless baby. Wickedly, I asked him if he was ticklish.
He didn't answer, so I decided to find out. I tickled his ribs while my boob filled his mouth. He wheezed and contracted.. My boobs covered his facte so I couldn't see his reaction. I tickled again. He wheezed again. I started caressing his chest, alternating the tickling with the rubbing, my boobs still smothering his face, hiding his reaction. This was too much for him. He let out a high pitched laugh. I sat up straight and saw his flushed cheeks, an apprehensive smile on his face. My big boobs dominated his vision. Even when I sat straight up, they're so large they stretched to over his chin. His hands were handcuffed together in a praying position, as if he was praying to me, the Goddess of Big Boobs.
"The boss is in quite a predicament," I said. "One of his slaves has revolted and captured him and now knows he's ticklish. What will she do?"
I leaned over again, my boobs re-covering his face, and he laughed even before I resumed tickling him. It was a steady nasal laugh now. I could tell he was enjoying himself--I could feel his boner throbbing under my ass.
"Carrie, Carrie, stop it," he said between giggles.
"Oh no. Not until you promise to stop being mean to everyone at work."
He said nothing but tried to block my fingers with his elbows. I reached behind me and tickled his balls and legs.
"No, no, no, I order you to stop this," he said between more laughter.
"In my bed you don't tell me what to do. You may be the boss at the store, but in my bed I'm the boss."
"Please, please, I'll do anything," he pleaded desperately, his nasal laughs, occasionally interspersed with high pitched giggles. He squirmed around under me like a man on fire.
"Do you promise not to be mean to us at work any more?"
"I promise, I promise. I give up."
The look on his face was one of total humiliation.
I stopped tickling him and mercilessly masturbated him as slowly as I could until I could no longer bear it myself and rode him to orgasm.
Ever since this episode, he's been much nicer to everyone at work, as long I tickle torture him at least once a month.
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