Prime Curves
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Prime Assets Ch. 06 free porn video
That night, as she lay in bed listening to the rhythmic thud of Simon’s masturbation while the breeze from the open window wafted across the snowy mountain range of her bare chest, Emma imagined sexual intercourse with a partner, any partner, able to stay hard enough to fuck her, with the visual stimulus provided by her bosom helping him to keep his erection in equilibrium rather than drive it to an instant and unsatisfactory climax. The fantasy carried over into her dreams, which were voluptuously erotic in nature, and she woke several times resisting the temptation to go into the next room, milk Simon dry, and ride his spent cock to a good old traditional orgasm. She thought of all the men she had known who had shot their loads the moment she had taken off her bra, and wondered how different those relationships may have turned out those men been on Dr Harding’s stamina programme. Finally she fell into a deep sleep, and it was not until late morning that the phone woke her.
She smooshed her nipple onto the cold biometric sensor to unlock the screen and answered, half asleep. It was Howard, of course, checking in.
‘Dr Harding gave me a schedule covering the next weeks, on and off,’ Emma explained.
‘She sent it to me, too,’ enthused Howard. ‘Along with praise for your professionalism and your excellent breasts. I’ve never seen her so excited about one of girls, so well done, very proud of you.’
‘That’s great to hear,’ said Emma, walking fully nude down the stairs to the kitchen to make a pot of tea, her bare breasts bouncing heavily. ‘Especially given the competition. That girl Shelley is something else.’
‘Mmm, Shelley, yes,’ Howard’s voice dropped to a low, sensual rumble, which he quickly made the effort to snap back out if with a clear of the throat. ‘Yes, a very effective pair of COTS breasts.’
‘COTS?’ echoed Emma, puzzled, as she took a jug of milk from the refrigerator, dangling udders lingering for a moment in the refreshing chilled air.
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Howard, ‘It’s an acronym we have here at the agency, it stands for Cum On The Spot. We have a few COTS girls on our books here, they’re rather hard to come across, so it’s great to have found a new one.’
‘Sounds like they’re very easy to come across,’ joked Emma.
‘Yes, I could have phrased that better,’ admitted Howard. ‘Anyway, why don’t you swing by this afternoon and we’ll discuss some other work where you can put those COTS to lucrative use.’
They agreed a time, and Emma set her phone down thoughtfully on the worktop. COTS. How curious that they had their own shorthand for her… I suppose she could call it a condition. Part blessing, part curse, no cure except… no, she had never contemplated surgery, and she wasn’t about to start, not now that the money was starting to flow. She had spent her adult life thus far trying to come to terms with her chest, and now, via this taxonomical classification, at least she was getting a sense of where she and her body fitted into the grand scheme of things. She thought back, with a bosom-jolting shudder, to the pleasured face of the man with the straggly yellow hair as he ejaculated in front of her bouncing teenage breasts, and wondered for the first time how many other men in the audience had spontaneously filled their pants with spunk as well. All them, she presumed. On the other hand, given that it was a musical comedy, most of the men there would arguably have been gay, and thus, she imagined, immune to her buxom superpowers. Thank goodness her father hadn’t been alive to witness the incident, that did not even bear thinking about. And what about lesbians? How did that work? Did lesbians get off on tits the same way heterosexual men did? She had no idea.
The train of thought made her self conscious once again, standing idly naked in the kitchen with her cup of tea. She dressed conservatively again, or at least as conservatively as her jutting bosom would allow, and made her way into town.
‘How nice to see you,’ Howard smiled and pointed to the chair opposite his desk, where Emma planted her shapely bottom. ‘Much prefer having these meetings in person rather than over the phone.’
‘I quite agree,’ said Emma.
‘Everything makes a difference in person,’ Howard reiterated, with a meaningful look that Emma took to be some kind of flirtation or innuendo, so she simply ignored it. Stout and impressive though Howard’s cock undeniably was, and as handsome and broad shouldered as he looked in his tailored suit, she was keen to keep their relationship professional. Letting him unload his seed onto her bare breasts in the interest of auditioning and classifying her was one thing, but saucy banter was quite another. On the other hand, maybe he was just making conversation.
‘How do you feel about acting?’ asked Howard, leaning back in his chair. ‘Ever done any? I mean, apart from the burlesque performance.’
Emma flashed briefly yet again back to the tapdance experience of her teens. ‘A little amateur dramatics experience,’ she said. ‘When I was younger. I always liked liked the idea of it, but, well…’
‘You never carried on?’
‘Some girls just aren’t built for tap dancing,’ she said with a mirthless smile and an explanatory gesture toward her brown-cardiganed bust.
‘Ah,’ smiled Howard. ‘That must have been a sight to behold!’
‘You could say that.’
Howard pushed a sheet of paper across the desk. ‘A casting call came through for nude double work on a film. No tap dance involved, nor even much acting, but we sent them your pictures and they want to use you.’
‘Nude double?’ Emma’s brow furrowed as she scanned the document.
‘A thriller that’s shooting over at Pinewood. Hollywood, big expensive production, excellent money. Short scene in which the main character is spied on while she’s undressing. You’d be doubling Jessica Maitland, heard of her?’
Emma had indeed heard of Jessica Maitland, an American actress who had very much become a role-model for bosomy redheads. ‘I’ve seen all of her films,’ said Emma. ‘How exciting!’
‘Well, I can’t guarantee you’ll get to meet her,’ said Howard. ‘For such a sex symbol she is notoriously guarded about nudity and sex scenes. Your measurements match hers, so this would seem to be another excellent opportunity for you. You’d be anonymous, either your face won’t be visible or they’ll add Maitland’s head onto your body with CGI… What’s on your mind?’ Howard had noted the look of concern that had darkened Emma’s face.
‘I’m happy to do it in principle,’ said Emma. ‘But wouldn’t it be somewhat irresponsible for me to show my breasts in a big Hollywood film? If they are indeed, as you say, cum-on-the-spot breasts, then that would make for very awkward cinema screenings.’
‘Good question, Emma,’ smiled Howard. ‘It’s kind of what I alluded to earlier when I said that everything makes a difference in person. You see, we’ve found that the COTS effect only occurs in the physical presence of the nude bosom in question. Photographs and video… they don’t work. So when that art student puts his pictures of your breasts in a gallery, it’s safe to say that while there will be more than a few boners among the patrons of the arts, there won’t be many semen-filled pants. It’s also why Dr Harding needs you at her lab in person. It would be far cheaper for her to use porn, but she needs you there in the room with her test subjects.’
It seemed far fetched to Emma, but she had to admit it had a kind of internal logic. ‘I’ll do it,’ she smiled. ‘Uncredited though, please.’
‘Excellent! I’ll find a date that accommodates your services to sexual science, and will get the paperwork drawn up and confirm a final fee.’
A Hollywood movie! And getting to stand in as Jessica Maitland’s boob-double to boot! A curious exhibitionistic sensation caused Emma’s nipples to tingle all the way home as she contemplated the enormous responsibility that carried.
She was halfway through one of Maitland’s films she had on DVD in the sitting room when Simon got home from work. It was a romantic comedy she had seen numerous times, with various men falling head over heels in love with the curvaceous redhead. ‘Good day at work?’ she asked her housemate.
‘Not really,’ Simon slumped into the armchair and untied his shoelaces. ‘What’s this you’re watching?’
‘Oh, nothing much,’ she smiled. She hadn’t told Simon about her new life as a freelance pair of breasts. ‘I transferred you the last couple of rent payments, so I’m up to date, you’ll be pleased to hear.’
‘Thanks, Emma,’ said Simon. ‘Sure you’re okay for money?’
‘I’m doing some part time work,’ Emma smiled. ‘Money’s good. In fact, I’m watching this film as research.’
‘How so?’
Emma was enjoying this teasing guessing game. ‘See the actress in this scene? Know her name?’
Jessica Maitland’s character was in a small,white bikini top and sash skirt, walking a dog along the sea front while men fell off bikes and walked into lampposts. Her breasts were large and bouncy. Simon did a rather unconvincing job of pretending not to know her name. ‘Jessica… something.’
‘Maitland! Anyway, look at her. What does she have in common with me?’
‘Red hair?’
‘Apart from the hair.’ She couldn’t believe Simon wasn’t catching on.
‘You’ve the same birthday?’
‘No, silly!’ Emma said. ‘I’ll give you a clue. There’s two of them.’
‘Blue eyes?’
On screen, the camera lingered on a close up of Maitland’s bikini-clad bosom, representing the point of view of some lecherous admirer. Emma hit pause on the remote, then skipped over to stand next to the TV and whipped off her sweater, presenting herself to her housemate in white lace bra and striped leggings. Her own breasts were now side by side with Maitland’s, both within white cups. ‘Our boobs! We’ve both got lovely big bouncy boobs!’
Simon’s suit trousers shifted, his groin swelled, and a growing erection began to prod upwards. ‘Jesus, Emma, you have to warn me when you’re about to do that!’ he exclaimed.
Emma’s hands flew to her face. ‘Oh Simon, I wasn’t thinking!’ she said. ‘Is it frightfully hard?’
‘Yes,’ said Simon, annoyed. ‘Damn it hurts.’
‘Let it out,’ said Emma. ‘I don’t mind helping.’ She hoped she didn’t sound too eager. ‘Unless you’d rather I left you alone to look at Jessica Maitland’s bosoms in private?’
Simon wasted no time unfastening his belt, and opening his fly to let his suddenly-raging boner twang forth. ‘Look how bloody hard you’ve made it. Your tits Emma, they’re too much?’
‘Do you… do you think you’ll cum?’ Emma’s tongue flicked at her lip as she eyed the tumescent erection that rose from her housemate’s groin.
‘I hope not,’ Simon wheezed. ‘At least not as hard as I do when I see you topless. I don’t think I can handle that right now.’
Emma seized her chance. ‘Um, then how about I do it really gently? I’ll keep my bra on, I promise!’
‘Wh-what are you going to do?’ Simon’s eyes were unblinking.
‘I’m going to try something,’ said Emma. She dropped to her knees, shuffled between Simon’s legs, spreading them with her hands, then positioned her jutting bust over the bulbous tip of his cock. The bra she was wearing was an older one, a couple of sizes too small, and her firm bust held the cups clear of her ribcage by a couple of inches. Very carefully, she slid the bottom of her bust to and fro over the wincing landlord’s twitching helmet until it slotted into the pussy-like groove of exposed undercleavage. ‘I’ll be very gentle,’ she said.
Simon’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as Emma’s marvellous bosom made its tightly-encased way down his frantically throbbing hard-on until it came to rest on his thighs and his wet, gasping opening peeped out from a creamy ocean of decollete, already leaking pre-cum in a steady stream. ‘Oh Christ! Oh fuck!’ he spluttered, face contorted in exquisite anguish as he tried to hold back the release.
Emma smiled in bliss. Why had she never thought of this before? Here she was, finally, with a lovely, rigid male member filling her hungry cleavage, and it hadn’t gone off in her face! ‘How does that feel?’ she asked, probably unnecessarily.
Simon’s entire body was trembling. ‘A-a-amaz-zing,’ he managed to utter.
Emma couldn’t agree more. Ever so delicately, she rose and descended on her haunches, her every sense prickling with naughty pleasure as she felt that rigid, veined shaft stroke her soft, ticklish breasts. Pre-cum poured down into her cleavage, acting as a very welcome lubricant, minimising the friction that would doubtless have set Simon off too quickly. She surprised herself at quite how badly she craved a nice hard cock between her tits. It seemed like the most natural, inevitable thing in the world. Of course, she wouldn’t have said no to a good old-fashioned fuck the cunt, but that was best left for one-night stands like her gratifying experience with Grant the art student. She didn’t want to risk overcomplicating things with Simon, simply give him the release he deserved whenever she inadvertently aroused him. And, selfishly and jealously, she’d rather do it herself than leave him to masturbate over… who was it exactly he masturbated over, she wondered.
Simon was prone, motionless, clearly too terrified of a painful eruption to add any titfuck action beyond the gentle massage he was receiving behind Emma’s undersized bra. He let out small, wordless utterances, jaw trembling. It was as though the two of them were specialists from the bomb squad, delicately preparing the controlled detonation of a dangerous explosive device. One wrong move from either of them, and… kaboom.
Emma stopped her rocking, equally fearful of bringing proceedings to a messy close, and the two housemates now faced each other like statues, eyes locked in a standoff.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Emma softly, and fumbled behind her back for the hooks of her bra.
Simon shook his head frantically, eyes bulging while he made a high pitched gurgling noise in protest.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Emma. ‘I’m just going to loosen it. I’ll keep the cups where they are.’
With the utmost care, she snapped open the back band of her bra, letting her bosom slowly expand to its natural size and shape while still remaining covered. The lightly lace-cupped tips of her breasts swung loosely over Simon’s stomach, but the innermost vice of her cleavage still held his pulsating cock firmly in place, holding it effortlessly upright while it fought to spring free. With her hands down by her sides, uninvolved in the process, Emma thought that perhaps the inactivity and release of physical pressure would stave off Simon’s imminent ejaculation, but, to her surprise, she felt his erection swell and stiffen still further, while his helpless gasps increased in frequency and intensity. Veins throbbed on his forehead, his teeth gnashed. He looked like he might not just cum, but explode into a thousand pieces.
She suddenly thought of the incident she had witnessed at Dr Harding’s research clinic, where the drug test subject had become trapped in pre-ejaculatory limbo, increasingly aroused but incapable of release, and how only a double dose of cum-on-the-spot breasts had broken the spell. Emma realised with horror that in her selfish pursuit of a cock-induced titgasm she may in fact be putting poor Simon’s health at risk, and decided there and then to relieve him of his torment.
‘You really look like you need to cum, Simon,’ she said, and whipped the bra cups away, causing her breasts to leap then bounce back down the length of that breast-crazed shaft, landing with a bouncy wobble on Simon’s balls and thighs. Her perfect nipples were now exposed to his horny gaze, quivering and dancing on her luscious 3D mammaries.
The effect was instant and spectacular. Emma tilted her head back just in time for the first t
hree bursts of semen to sail high into the air, but that didn’t prevent her getting a faceful of the hot, viscous cream as it descended again. Simon moaned and sobbed in ecstasy as Emma’s autonomously jostling breasts continued to coax powerful ropes of seed from his lust-bloated balls, seed which found its way onto her mouth and his shirt, but principally all over her big, beautiful breasts.
‘C-can I… may I t-touch them?’ Simon stuttered between endless spurts of cum.
Emma felt mortified with guilt for not having offered. ‘Oh goodness, yes!’ she urged. ‘Please! Touch them! Grope them!’
Simon’s weak hands found their way onto her tits, and pleasure surged through her, radiating from wherever his fingertips and palms found their exploratory way.
‘Oh Simon!’ she moaned, finally getting the boob-attention she had been craving. ‘Don’t stop! Squeeze them! Play with my nipples, yes, yes, just like that. And jiggle them. Please, please jiggle them, oh goodness yes Simon that feels so good!’
As Simon continued to rub his cum into her breasts, Emma felt her small pink nipples finally erect themselves from within her pale, swollen areolae, and she knew the boobgasm was upon her. ‘The nipples,’ she gasped, ‘Rub the nipples til I cum.’
And, as Simon’s thumbs made their slippery, horny way all over her sensitive nubs, flicking them this way and that, she felt her breasts tense and heave, almost a breast erection of sorts, before with heart-pounding eroticism she felt her knees turn to jelly as the pleasure coursed from her tits to between her legs, and as she shook her breasts so hard her nipples escaped Simon’s fingers, she came, came harder, longer, and better than she could remember cumming for a long time.
The bomb squad had triumphed.
They sat, heaving bosom and spurting penis interlocked, for a minute or two, until Simon prised Emma’s boobs apart to allow his wilting penis to flop backwards, a milky curtain of cum connecting it to the cleavage in which it had been residing with such delicious torment.
Simon caught his breath again. ‘So, you were saying something about Jessica Maitland?’
‘Oh yes!’ said Emma, seizing Simon’s hands again and placing them on her breasts to encourage him to keep rubbing while the waves of her boobgasm continued to wash over her. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone, but it looks very much like I’m going to be her bosom double in a nude scene in her next film!’
Simon’s cock responded by stirring and slowly rising from the pool of cum on his stomach.
‘Oh Simon!’ gasped Emma in delight, perfect double-F-cup breasts quivering jubilantly under his tender hands. ‘Again?’
***
‘Three times he came! In the space of an hour!’ Emma whispered to her new confidante. She had found herself in the reception waiting area at Harding Sciences next with her agency-mate Shelley, both of them waiting to be taken in to work on experimental treatments. And with their sumptuous cum-on-the-spot bosoms in common they had quickly struck up a firm rapport.
‘And you’ve only known about this for a few weeks?’ said Shelley, tucking a strand of long brunette hair behind her ear.
‘I guess I’ve known about it since I was eighteen, deep down,’ Emma said. ‘I’ve always had the feeling something was wrong with me.’
‘Never think that,’ said Shelley. ‘Nothing’s wrong with you. Everything’s right.’
Emma grinned. Shelley seemed a decent sort, and was clearly far more comfortable in her own skin, having been snapped up by Prime Assets two years previously. Even before working as a body-for-hire, Shelley had learned to harness her buxom powers, and Emma looked forward to learning from her.
‘Ladies, we’re ready.’ Dr Harding appeared in the doorway, clipboard clasped to her torpedo-stretched scapular.
The three women made their way through the pristine corridors and walkways of the facility.
‘Emma, you’ll remember Geoff from your first visit here.’
Emma nodded in the affirmative, recalling the sudden, lurching orgasm she had given him.
‘He’s on round-the-clock masturbation watch for a week,’ said Alex. ‘Or wankwatch as we like to call it informally. While he undergoes the first stages of the dietary regime we can’t have him cumming. But we need his reserves to build up, so he has to be kept mildly aroused while awake. Not too much that he suffers autoejaculation, nor so much that he experiences wet dreams during sleep. I need you to keep him company and make sure he’s relaxed, semi-erect, and that his mind is on tits as much of the time as possible.’
Trish
- 04.06.2021
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