Prime Curves
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Prime Assets Ch. 08 free porn video
‘Take it off! Please Emma, you have to let me see them!’
‘Not till I’ve… not till I’ve come!’
The morning traffic passed noisily outside Emma’s bedroom window. Emma, tight green dress now scrunched up around her stomach and only just covering her nipples, was riding her one-night-stand’s delightfully rigid erection to her fourth (and his third) orgasm since the two had scrambled up the stairs to her room the previous night.
The first orgasm had been sheer bliss, and had coursed through her body mere seconds after the prim young gentleman’s throbbing cockhead had crossed the tight threshold her of labia and brushed the folds of her clitoris. After a day of having her pouting udders perved and pawed, that was all it took. In the interest of prolonged intercourse she had left her green dress tightly wrapped around her bouncy chest like a boob tube, as the sight of it in its pale, nude glory would certainly have propelled matters to a premature conclusion where this tit-obsessed vintage hipster was concerned.
‘And, in any case,’ Emma panted as she rode Guy’s cock (his name had turned out to be Guy), ‘You cheated. You had a good look at these puppies during the night while I was asleep. You’re lucky you’ve got the stamina to fuck me as hard as this now after how much you managed to cum on me.’
‘What are you talking about?’ spluttered Guy, torn between indignation and all-devouring lust for Emma’s body. ‘I was fast asleep all night!’
‘Naughty, naughty Guy,’ smiled Emma, wagging a finger as she increased the tempo with which she rose and fell onto his solid member. She tugged the green boob-tube-dress up, feeling it gradually ride down toward her nipple line as her braless bosom rebounded energetically. ‘When I woke up, my top was down and my bare breasts were sticking up in the air, utterly drenched in your semen. There wasn’t a square inch of tit left uncoated in your jism. You obviously had your naughty way with them.’
‘I didn’t… oh fuck I’m going to cum!’
Emma swiftly yet reluctantly hopped off the erection. Its rapid twitching, which she could feel inside her, spoke indeed of an imminent eruption. She sat on his thighs and let the pussy-slick boner flail and strain upwards, untouched in front of her stomach. The promised eruption didn’t happen, balls and shaft shuddering madly in anticipation. ‘Shouldn’t have wanked all over my bosoms in the night, should you! Or you’d be off like a fountain by now.’
‘I promise! I was fast asleep!’
‘Give them a good fucking did you, before wanking off? Or did you fuck them until you came between them?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Emma,’ protested Guy, his genitals aching for release. Then he corrected himself: ‘Well, I would dream of it, and probably will, a lot, but I didn’t last night.’
Emma didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Perhaps he had done it in his sleep, a wet dream forcing the contents of his lust-bloated testicles through his pulsating cock, through the night air and onto Emma’s accidentally disrobed, unsteadily teetering bust. In any case, the talk of titfucking had got her even hornier, and her cleavage ached to be filled with the cock that was so conveniently yearning up towards it. She wriggled her hips backwards and leaned forward, allowing her green cotton wrapped chest to land with a heavy wobble on the purple tip of Guy’s cock.
Guy, in response, let out a helpless, wordless exclamation of what sounded like pain but was most likely incomprehensible pleasure.
Emma let the force of gravity pull her breasts down the length of Guy’s thrilled shaft. The green dress held them firmly in place, the pressure slowing their descent in spite of the generous levels of lubrication provided by the pungent cocktail of pre-cum and vaginal juices with which Guy’s penis was slathered.
‘Fuck!’ blurted Guy. ‘Oh fuck! I’ve, I’ve never felt anything like it!’
Emma couldn’t exactly complain, either. There was a link between cleavage and vagina, between nipples and clitoris, and whether it was physiological or psychological didn’t really matter: the passage of this thick, veiny member between her large breasts was propelling her headlong to orgasm. A thin jet of watery pre-cum hit her on the lips, a salty warning of what lay in wait. Guy probably thought she was wanking him off, but in fact her motives were entirely selfish as she used his erection to masturbate her breasts until, at last, the boobgasm hit, long, strong, and electrifying, sending a violent shudder up her spine that caused her bosom to erupt in careening, jostling undulations which in turn had the effect of bringing about Guy’s own orgasm, thick, long white ropes of jism sailing upwards into Emma’s face. The scrunched up green dress gave up the hopeless fight against Emma’s tits and snapped downwards, trapping Guy’s cock against her ribcage. Both breasts quivered outwards, expanding to their full, uncompressed size, nipples flicking upwards to their perfect 45 degree tilt. The sight of them caused Guy’s eyes to bulge and jaw to drop, and kicked off an unexpected second wave off shuddering ejaculatory mess.
‘I see you like my bosoms,’ said Emma through layers of semen that continued to splat onto her face.
‘Understatement of the century!’ gasped Guy. ‘I’m your biggest fan! I’ve never seen or felt anything so fucking perfect!’ He slapped both hands onto them and jiggled them around his erection to milk the final spurts from his weary balls, gurgling in childlike delight as he did so. ‘When can I see you again?’
Emma let him unwittingly rub her nipples to a smaller, gentler titgasm, then lifted her bust from his cock and climbed from the bed, naked save for the green band of fabric around her stomach. ‘I’m sorry,’ she grimaced. ‘This was just a casual thing. Do you mind?’
Guy looked distraught and sat up. ‘Emma, I cannot live without your tits. I don’t want a girlfriend, I’m not going to obsess over you romantically, but the fading memory of those perfect breasts is not going to be enough.’
Emma looked down at her naked, swaying, spunk-strewn chest and soft, blushing nipples with pride, then smiled at the besotted young chap staring at them from her bed. ‘Leave me your contact details. I’m getting my tits out more and more these days, I’ll let you know when you can come to see me. And them.’
Guy searched frantically beside the bed for pen and paper.
‘Now,’ said Emma, ‘I’ve a busy day so I’m going to have to ask you to leave, but before you go you can get in the shower with me and help wash all of this cum off my boobies. If you like?’
In the shower, Emma let Guy fuck her again from behind whilst enjoying having her breasts groped, squeezed, and jiggled, and her nipples teased and flicked. It seemed to work as a position, keeping her breasts accessible but hidden from direct view. Perhaps she’d let him do this again, she wondered, as he disengaged and rapidly spent another load onto the plump expanse of her firm bottom while kneading her happy bosom to orgasm. This time, however, she covered herself up and saw him to the front door.
On the train back out to Pinewood she worried about encountering Tom, the spotty student, again, but there was no sign of him. Her breasts, braless under her tight pastel-blue vest and leaving very little to the imagination where their hugely appealing natural shape was concerned, provoked their fair share of awkward boners among the suited commuters, but thankfully the crowded circumstances kept at bay any temptation to push that provocation further. Instead she contented herself with fantasies in which her top ‘accidentally’ fell off and she was set upon by helplessly ejaculating businessmen, all in a frantic race to pleasure themselves on her buxom body before they stopped cumming. The thought of her tits being saluted by so many flying ropes of cum reminded her of the veritable lake of the stuff she had found her bare bosom swimming in early that morning, a
nd how strenuously Guy had denied creating it. Perhaps, she wondered with slight concern, she herself had imagined the whole thing, dreamt of finding her towering mountains of tit plastered in fresh jism, dreamt of going downstairs to the bathroom to wipe it all off, dreamt of treating herself to a crafty nipple-wank while she did so.
At the studio gates the short fat security guard did a double-take. ‘Sorry, Miss Enderby, nearly mistook you for Miss Maitland again,’ he chuckled.
‘Easy mistake to make! What, with these’ laughed Emma, hefting her heavy, unconstrained bust from below and, to the security guard’s evident delight, giving it a saucy jiggle up and down. ‘My bosoms,’ she explained, completely unnecessarily.
‘Yes, you’ve quite a pair!’ stuttered the beaming guard. ‘If you d-don’t mind my saying.’ He peeled a security pass identity sticker from a roll and passed it to her through the window of his booth.
‘I don’t mind at all,’ smiled Emma. ‘I love compliments on my boobs. I wish more men were like you, unafraid to pass comment. Here, would you like to put the sticker on my vest?’
‘Oh, um, yes please,’ the guard licked his lips as Emma approached proffering her sumptuous bosom in its tissue-thin skin tight shroud of pale blue stretchy cotton.
Emma angled her body to thrust her right tit at the trembling hand that held the paper sticker. ‘Right there,’ she said, pointing at its jutting, cantilevered tip. ‘Over the nipple. You can just about make out the small bump. I have quite small nipples, does that surprise you?’
The guard shrugged, his hand hovering over her bosomy bounty.
‘It’s one difference between mine and Jessica Maitland’s,’ Emma continued. Once she got going with her teasing routines she was finding it very hard to stop, regardless who her audience was. ‘My nipples are quite small and pale, otherwise you’d be able to see them right through this thin top! Jessica’s are dark, thick, meaty. Here, this is where the nipple is.’ She tapped the softly swelling nub, a fraction of an inch below the revealing neckline of her vest.
The security guard licked the sweat from his upper lip and attempted to position the sticker. If her nipple was to be in the centre, it would have to be half stuck to the vest and half to the alabaster surface of her firm right breast’s upper slope.
Emma recognised the predicament. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘You can put it on my skin.’ The shaking hand applied the sticker to Emma’s tit with delicate, pudgy fingers. ‘Rub it,’ Emma said. ‘Rub it to make sure it’s stuck on securely.’ The guard obeyed, and Emma felt a tingle of pleasure as her nipple enjoyed the manual stimulation it craved on what now seemed to be a round-the-clock basis. ‘Can you feel the nipple now? The more you rub, the more it sticks up.’
‘Yes, Miss Enderby, I feel it. Sorry, Miss.’
‘Whyever are you apologising, silly man,’ laughed Emma. ‘It feels so nice. Do the other one.’
The grateful security guard, caught in Emma’s horny spell, extended his other hand from the booth and ran his hands like a braille reader along the low neckline of Emma’s top until the telltale swell of her penny-sized areola (and the small, shivering moan of delight from Emma’s pink lips) let him know he hand found nipple number two.
Emma felt the guard’s wedding ring cold and hard against her warm, cotton-encased right boob. ‘Does your wife enjoy having this done to her?’ Emma asked.
‘I’ve never tried,’ said the guard, fondling away, transfixed. ‘And she’s never asked.’
‘You should treat her. Rub her nipples until she cums.’ Emma tugged the vest down, forcing the fingers of the guard’s right hand into direct contact with her bared left nipple. The sensation was as deliciously pleasing as the setting and company were dull and unerotic. ‘Promise me you’ll do that tonight?’
A car horn tooted loudly behind her and she jumped, causing her luscious, firm double-F’s to wobble free of the guard’s tender fingers. She span, one nipple out, one nipple securely covered in her name badge sticker, to see a red Alpha Romeo convertible, engine turning over as it waited at the barrier. The top was down, and Jessica Maitland sat at the wheel, deckes out fifties-style in head scarf, shades, and that revealing yellow halter neck blouse beneath which braless torpedoes jutted sharply.
‘Having fun with my nude double there, Alf?’ Maitland called with a wicked grin. She waved her studio pass in the air, setting her left tit into abundant wobbling motion.
‘M-Miss Maitland!’ Alf was scarlet either from embarrassment, cumming in his pants, or a combination of both. ‘Just giving her clearance.’
Maitland’s left nipple had, as a result of the pass-shaking, jiggled its way clear of the yellow halter neck and stood out in stark, velvety contrast to the ballooning mass of pale, jiggle breast flesh that, likewise, was making an animated bid for total nudity.
‘I see what you mean about her nipples,’ leered Alf quietly to Emma, taking in the sexy spectacle. ‘I think I prefer yours though.’
Emma spotted the errant nipple, too, and pointed to her own, which likewise protruded in wardrobe-malfunction candidness. ‘Hey Jessica,’ she called. ‘Snap!’ She pointed to her own bare nipple and wiggled the jutting, shapely boob upon which it sat, then pointed at Jessica’s.
Jessica looked down, squealed with sexy laughter, and jiggled her bare boob back at Emma in response. ‘Sisters!’ she shouted. ‘Here, get in the car, I’ll drive you over to the soundstage.’
‘I’ve never been in a topless car,’ squealed Emma in excitement as she leapt, breasts bouncing, into the passenger seat.
The convertible sped off across the studio lot.
‘And here you are topless inside of one!’ quipped Maitland. Neither woman had bothered to stow their errant breasts from their tops, and Emma decided to go all the way in celebration, and tugged the right side of her top down. The I.D. sticker stayed put over her nipple, like a burlesque pasty. Emma made a mental note for future reference when devising new acts for her second stab at the genre.
Maitland adjusted the rearview mirror, aiming it at Emma’s exposed chest which jiggled heartily as the car sped along the bumpy roadways. ‘Perfect tits, darling,’ she shouted over the noise of the engine. ‘Perfect! Did you read the script pages?’
Emma gave a snappy salute. ‘Read, rehearsed, and memorized,’ she confirmed.
‘Any questions? Anything you’re uncomfortable with?’
‘No,’ shrugged Emma. ‘Why would I be?’
‘It’s quite sexy stuff,’ said Jess. ‘But if you’re cool with it, then great. We’re here, we should cover up.’ She veered the car into a space in the shadow of a huge soundstage. ‘For now, anyhow!’
Emma had been enjoying the breezy toplessness so much she had completely forgotten her tits were out. She was reminded of Rebekah, the friend with whom she had not spoken since she had confided relationship problems. Rebekah was a keen nudist and had in the past had occasionally asked Emma to join her on nude spa retreats on the Continent. Emma, previously a shy, frumpy, shrinking violet, had always refused, scarlet-faced at the very thought. But this new Emma, this libidinous libertine that had exploded into life, she would have no qualms at all about stripping off in public amid a 24-gun salute of spontaneously ejaculating penises. She decided to suggest the idea to Rebekah first chance she got. It might help rekindle their once close friendship, and if Rebekah could see that it really was pretty much any straight man, and not just Bex’s estranged boyfriend, that reacted so viscerally to the sight of her plump, shapely bosom in the nude, then perhaps that relationship might be patched up at the same time. She tugged her top back up over her nipples and hopped out of the sports car to join her new movie star girlfriend who was waiting by the soundstage door.
Another member of the studio security personnel was
chatting to Jess as Emma hurried to catch up. This guard was a different proposition entirely to the corpulent middle-aged man at the main entrance. This one was a tall, strapping, lantern-jawed fellow with thick dark hair combed back with pomade, and a strong, stoic manner. He looked like he had the mental age of an eight-year-old, but he was certainly easy on the eyes.
‘This is Gavin,’ said Jess to Emma, running a manicured hand over the security guy’s barrel chest. Jess had stashed her tit back in her halter top, but only just, and a strawberry hint of areola remained tantalisingly on show, bulging into view as she titfucked his bicep. ‘It’s great when you’re the star and the producer,’ she said in a faux-confidential, entirely audible, aside to Emma. ‘You get to pick your own studio entourage. Gavin, this is Emma, working on the picture for today.’
‘Afternoon, Miss,’ rumbled Gavin’s voice. ‘I’ll need to see the I.D. they gave you on the way in.’
Maitland gurgled with perverted glee. ‘Well this is awkward,’ she roared with a filthy cackle. Emma liked her more and more.
‘It’s ended up stuck to my nipple under my top,’ explained Emma to Gavin. ‘So excuse me for flashing you.’
Completely unnecessarily, and with a wink at Jess, Emma peeled off the top in its entirety, letting Gavin see not only the security sticker swaying atop the quivering peak of her right breast, but her whole nearly-nude bosom and upper body. ‘Here it is,’ she said, and pointed a dainty finger at the perkily-situated paper sticker with her name emblazoned upon it in Alf’s handwriting.
Gavin lost his cool pretty much instantly, stuttering and drooling at the wobbling vision of gropable, fuckable bustiness with which he was now presented.
Maitland placed an inquisitive hand on the titstruck young man’s groin, and raised her eyebrows. ‘Instant boner,’ she observed, a congratulatory nod in Emma’s direction. ‘Impressive. This is the reaction I would expect from boobs like ours, honey.’
Emma looked at the handsome, helplessly shuddering man with a curious sense of pity, and fingered the corner of the sticker. He was like a horny, confused dog, tongue out, boner an embarrassing spectacle between his legs.
‘Do it,’ Maitland egged her on. ‘I want to see those titties do their thing. I’ll pay Gavin’s dry cleaning bill, if that’s what’s holding you back.
Emma ripped the sticker clear of her right breast, and finally the full bare glory of her perfect bosom radiated upon Gavin. Maitland pulled her hand away, and the tent in the man’s trousers twitched and pounded madly, a sticky wet patch darkening the front of his grey trousers and expanding out to his hips and down his legs. He was wetting himself, spectacularly, with what appeared to be a substantial backlog of jism. His knees buckled and he fell to one side, catching himself briefly with a trembling hand on the frame of the door, then collapsing in a drooling fit of ejaculatory spasms.
‘Sorry Gavin,’ Emma called down to him where he lay, cumming, on the dusty ground. ‘But you did ask.’
‘See ya later, Gavin,’ chuckled Maitland. ‘Keep an eye out for stalkers.’
‘Was that a little cruel?’ Emma asked in growing guilt and uncertainty, pulling her thin blue top back down over her braless breasts as the two buxom redheads walked behind wooden facades in the dim edges of the soundstage.
‘Cruel? That was Christmas morning for Gavin. He’s been sneaking looks at my titties for the whole shoot and clearly hasn’t jacked off once! It would have been cruel not to do what you did.’
Emma supposed she was right. ‘It’s nice to see you in such a chipper mood,’ she said. ‘All things considered.’
‘Chipper!’ laughed Jess. ‘I love your English words. Yes, I am chipper. Carter and I have agreed to stay married, but we’re both going to start seeing other men.’
‘An open relationship,’ said Emma. ‘How modern.’
They slipped through a gap in the wooden backdrop onto a surprisingly realistic recreation of a nighttime New York street. Production personnel scurried about, technicians adjusted lighting. A rain machine was being tested. Emma cooed at the scale of it all.
Hortense
- 03.10.2020
- 32
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