Martin to Martina
- 2 years ago
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Enjoy Them, Martina! free porn video
Enjoy them, Martina!
Dusk had already fled its big brother night and I was on my way home. As
often during the last weeks my boss had kept me busy running deeds for
him until his kids were scheduled to sleep and it would be safe for him
to return home. That I didn't feel safe in this neighborhood at that hour
never occurred to him. He never asked if he could give me a ride home or
at least down to the station.
So I was mincing my way on my 4 inch stilettos as fast as I could without
looking frightened. My heels made a proud click-adee-clack, which echoed
from the dark deserted backyard lanes. I know, a woman should rather use
sneakers around here, but hey, I am a lady and I could never ever find
sneakers stylish enough to go with MY office dress code. I have to keep
my reputation.
You see, as head assistant I can't wear garbage. Today I was dressed in a
night-blue pin-striped business suit. I like to call it my power suit,
too. Because with its wide and long V-neck and its almost (but only
almost!) too short skirt I can get almost everything I want from a man
with not much more than a smile. My long and classy legs show off pretty
well in my expensive tan hose, too. Sneakers just would ruin everything.
I am 44 - not 20 anymore!
Still I keep my body fit and as flexible as I have been when I was 20 and
a little Tae Bo comes in handy to keep my wits up and my confidence high.
A confident stride sometimes is all it takes to keep the buggers on
distance. Still I was glad when I was back on the well-lit platform
waiting for my suburban train.
Of course I could afford a car. To be precise, I own a car - a chic small
European sports car. But still I like to read books more than waiting on
traffic lights, shouting or being shouted at, inhaling toxic air and
frying in the summer sun while being shock-frosted by the AC and as
cherry on that cream paying a fortune for a dirty parking lot in a dark
corner of a dark level. No, I rather take the commuter and read sappy
romances. I don't have much time for that else.
The only drawback are the other commuters and some wannabe-gangsters.
They seem to think if you are a woman and dressed sexy and you are rather
top-heavy you are an easy lay and just waiting for them. I didn't ask for
my 38DDs, but since they are part of me, they should be dressed as
comfortable and sexy as my other parts. Thus I don't restrict them and I
for sure don't bind them flat. Ouch! No, my ladies lay nicely supported
in a sexy, but comfortable lacy bra and make my stomach look flat and my
waist slimmer.
Still I hated to be ogled. Like now when there was this 16 year old boy,
who sat himself purposefully opposite of my seat. He tried to peep
between my of course well-closed and crossed legs and under my short
skirt, but mainly he stared at my buxom bosom. First I pretended not to
notice and a woman always notices such things, but then he sank deeper
and deeper in hope to catch a glimpse. So I stared back and arched a
brow. He grew beet-red and rose to sit straight immediately. I smiled
inwardly, but kept my stony face.
An hour later we arrived at my station. He had ogled again from time to
time but not as brainless as before. So I was about to forgive him and
his male riot-running hormones. But when I went to the door, he came
after me and purposefully squeezed against my breasts although there was
plenty of space.
But what he couldn't know, I friend of mine had given me one of those
hypodermic needles with reservoir, she uses in her job as a nurse for the
mentally insane. One prick and even the most-aggressive 300 pound schizo
would be to handle as easy as a little lamb. Since there were some rapes
a few years ago I always hid one in my fist when exiting the train until
I was home safe.
Now I merely pricked him in the arm with a short fast move. He turned
around but I looked out the window as if nothing had happened. When the
train stopped and the doors opened, he almost fell out of the door. I
caught him and led him over to a bench nearby. We were the only two out
here and I turned to leave when the train had left. But then I thought of
something better.
I pulled him off the bench and drew one of his arms around my shoulders.
He was slim and didn't weight too much, so I stumbled him down through
main gate where a cabby sat reading a newspaper. I asked him whether he
could give me a hand with my drunken son. He jumped out and opened the
door before he helped me to drag and bugle-up my "son". He drove us home
and even carried "Martin" into the bathroom. I tipped him generously and
excused me for my misled "son". He just shrugged his shoulders, pocketed
his tip and off he went.
When I went back to the bathroom a vase caught my eyes. It was made of
glass and I had filled it with those yellow jelly balls and arranged a
few flowers just the day before. The jelly balls came as a small bag of
tiny dry beads. You just add water and they grow in size to those
decorative water bubbles.
That got me thinking. Originally I just wanted to glue some falsies onto
his chest. My daughter Diane had used them because she was a late-
bloomer. But they could be easily loosened if you knew about nail polish
remover. But if I got something INSIDE his skin...
I checked the bag of "Magic Water Beads" again. They were tiny but still
too big to be somehow shoved into or under the skin. So I went to the
kitchen and filled some beads into my grinder and ground them to dust.
Then I added some water and the powder didn't grow into balls but a jelly
mass. I "coated" it with a layer of raw bacon and gently poked it with my
fingers. It surely felt like the real McCoy. Perfect!
Now the last problem at hand was how to bring it in. I could hardly use a
donut syringe for that. I would need a finer needle - like a sewing
machine... or a TATTOOING MACHINE!
I jumped and run over to the garage. On the top shelf in a dusty
cardboard box I found my old tattooing machine. It dated back to those
days were I had been a Rock'n'Roll groupie. Luckily my daughter never
learnt about that. She would never let me live that down.
Her pathetic, boring old mom who forbid her any lunatics and rock
concerts? With blue and green hairs, matchboxes dangling from staples in
her ears, lot of shiny black leather and chrome, over-knee stiletto boots
with needle-thin heels and ... tattoos!!! No way! But when I became
pregnant I settled down. I never ever regretted it a single day for Diane
was my rescuing angel.
Anyway, back then I had my own tattooing machine and made a few bucks
from "Rolling Stones' tongues" and band icons. I wasn't too bad, but I
couldn't live from it either. Beside the needle tended to dive to deep
down. Therefore some color would be washed out by the blood down there
and infection risk was much higher than nowadays. Now this "stitching too
deep" would come in handy.
With my precious I races back to the bathroom. I watched "sleeping
beauty" in the tub for a few moments and it dawned on me now I had to go
for the big prize. Since it was no longer about some glued-on breasts it
should involve more than glue on and throw back out again.
I pulled him out of the tub and placed him on his knees facing away from
the tub. Then I positioned his arms and his head on the edge of the tub.
A pillow under his bum kept him from sinking back down. In minutes I had
shampooed his lovely shoulder-long hair twice and applied some dye. It
was a strong one I usually used for streaks only, but here I was more
generous.
While the dye was working I raided Diane's room. She had almost finished
university and was about to move further south but still it was her room
and her home and so she stored lots of her clothes here. I opted for a
plain white satin bra and panty set, a pink top with "hot babe" printed
up front and a white mini-skirt. Some white frilly ankle-socks and white
sneakers with pink laces completed the outfit.
Back in the bathroom I undressed him. His skin was smooth and soft and
mostly hairless, so was his face. But there was a thick patch of fur in
his crotch and two more in his armpits. I grabbed my shaver but thought
of something better then. He would get a waxing!
Soon his armpits were as smooth as a babies and his little buddy was
crowned by a heart-shape lovely small trimmed patch. Now I could pull up
the panties, the skirt and the socks. For the panties I had to tuck his
little buddy between his legs, of course. With his balls retracting
inside his body by the pressure of the a bit too small panties and their
snug fit his front took on a girly V-shape and the heart-shaped hairs
showed nicely through the fabric.
When I tried Diane's sneakers on him they wouldn't fit. So I took some
bleach and made his own ones shiny white - even where they had been blue
some mere minutes before. Then I replace his dark blue with the pink
laces and those girlified shoes went on his feet.
I put some rollers in his now Marilyn blonde hair, sprayed some sealer
onto it and blow-dried them. When I had brushed them out nicely, too, I
went to work on his face. He got some thinned-out arched brows, light-
blue eye-shadow, a bit too thick mascara (as young girls often wear) a
bit rosy rogue and pink long-lasting lipstick. Finally I coated his
fingernails in the same pearly pink.
Now came the tricky part. I took a spoonful of the "Magic Water Beads"
and ground them to the finest powder I could muster. Then I filled it
into the tattooing machine's pigment chamber. I glued a button with
spirit gum to each of his nipples and knotted a string to each button.
Through the eye at the other end I shoved the needle and then I
"tattooed" round after round around each nipple alternating the breast
after each full round and shortening the strings a bit more so that he
got two sets of concentric circles on his chest. The nearer I got to the
nipple the more I tattooed into the skin. Then I removed the buttons
again.
I cleaned and disinfected the area once more and then cooled it with some
ice cubes. Still it showed a swelling and the swelling kept growing
slowly but steadily.
My gaze fell at the "Magic Water Beads" package and I got a big surprise.
"Magic Water Beads can assimilate 200 times its own weight in water!" I
did a little math and found out soon he would have approximately 500
grams additional "flesh" protruding from each side of his chest. I dumped
my daughter's bra and got one of my own ones instead. Still it might
become a close fit soon.
I dressed him in my bra and the pink top. Currently the cups lay flat and
almost empty. Then I donned him his old jeans jacket, but not before I
had cut off the four top-most buttons. All done I dragged him into my car
and drove back to the station. There I led him back to the platform
through a side gate and sat him on a bench. I placed a little post-it
note in his manicured hand and went back to my car.
Meanwhile it started to dawn. I drove around the station hall and parked
on the other side of the rails. Thus I could watch him over there. I
would call in sick today. I would say something about being out in the
cold that late at night and catching a cold. Should my boss take all the
blame the better.
I watched "Martin" beginning to stir. With each breath he took his jacket
opened a bit wider. Only it didn't close that much when he exhaled. Soon
the swellings were clearly to see. Maybe a C if not a D cup already, as
far as I could tell from that far away. Maybe his body would degrade the
beads over time, but for at least four to six months he would be as top-
heavy as me. Now he could ogle all day long and even feel them as often
as he likes. But maybe he wouldn't like them that much now! Who knows but
time.
While I thought about all that some more he woke up. His head had sunken
down and now the first thing he saw were the pink top and the swellings
beneath. He almost jumped off the bench when his hands flew to his
breasts. He squeezed them. Too hard first, but then more gently.
Suddenly his hands shoot down between his legs. He looked as relieved as
confused. He stood up and turn this way and that, tried to check out his
body and cloth. His hands started exploring his body on its own. After he
had discovered the new hair style and thinned brows he looked confident
and with a swing in his steps he strolled towards the exit.
But then he halted and turned around and picked up the post-it. He read
it, smiled widely and left with a happy stride...
The note read "Enjoy them, Martina!"
Julianne
- 05.01.2022
- 16
- 0
