Cupcake
- 3 years ago
- 24
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I am Elizabeth. At age 18 and a few days, I began to notice my breasts finally growing. I was trying on swimsuits at 'The Skin Shop' on the beach walkway. I had lived within walking distance of the beach all of my eighteen years and admired both men and women who were fit and shapely.
As I grew up, I assumed someday I would be all curvy and feminine as most of those on the beach seemed to be. My pubic hair started to grow when I was much younger, but by my last birthday, it seemed that I was going to have a curvy figure everywhere except my breasts.
The store was empty as it was first thing in the morning; ten o'clock when I left the house. I had looked through all of the bikinis, and the other more scanty two-piece suits all up and down the beach walkway the last few days. I decided I would have to get another one-piece because I did not have any breasts visible on my chest. This tiny boutique shop had the patterns and colors I thought I wanted. I needed a new suit since my old one had worn through in one spot. I had picked a one-piece to try on, and when I took it to the clerk, he looked me up and down.
Don, according to his name tag and as gay as a parade, told me, "Girl, with hips and legs like yours, you would be surprised if you tried some of the bikinis. You will amaze yourself at how sexy your flat chest will seem compared to all of those cows out there."
I laughed and said, "It will be a cold day in hell when I flaunt my missing tits."
He said, "Missing? Oh no, watch this."
Don reached over, grabbed a finger full of T-shirt, and twisted and pinched my left nipple.
"Ouch!"
He didn't hesitate to point out that my nipple had grown stiff and stuck out very noticeably.
"Look. The beauty arises from her slumber. She is looking aroused. Are you aroused, yet?” She was asked.
I was alarmed at his touch and stepped back. Then I realized I could feel a new excitement all through my body after he seemingly tried to twist my nipple completely off my chest. I noticed that the right nipple had aroused itself equally as hard and as long as the left one.
The excitement was present in both nipples, and I could feel the connecting tissues, nerves, or whatever those sensations travel on inside my body, zinging, and awakening to his touch. I thought, 'I wonder if he is right?'
He ushered me into a fitting booth, which had a hanging shower curtain across the opening. He slipped the curtain closed as he entered the fitting booth with me.
"Pull that T-shirt off, and let me measure you for a top. I will show you what you have, that is so titillating."
Then he laughed at his joke.
I hesitated.
Don said, "Come on, Elizabeth! We are going to light up the beach. You are so special to see. An absence of breasts in the perfect top will go completely unseen by most men watching the women parading on the beach. They are going to see your hips, then your butt, and legs. If you have the matching top, they will think your nipples are at least a size A cup, more probably a C or a DD cup. The distraction of your transparent bottoms is the magic.
He started to lift my T-shirt, so I pulled it off.
Don laughed politely, saying, "Ho! Ditch that unnecessary bra. It has to be ancient. Is it one of the first ones you ever bought? I will take you to Victoria's and get a sexy one that you will like to have under a T-shirt, not something like this ugly little piece."
He took my brassiere off and dropped it in the wastebasket. He stared at me.
"Hey! This is a mistake." I reach for the bra, but he put his hands out, and this time, he grabbed both of my nipples and twisted. I had an orgasm immediately, causing me to shiver and shake a little.
Noticing, he said, "See, they are so beautiful. Their beauty brings to mind the necessity for babies to nurse on them, as well as men and women. Have you ever had anyone suckle your nipples?"
"No, of course not."
"Let me show you."
With that, he lifts his T-shirt to reveal a beautiful light pink satin T-shirt brassiere that looked as though it was supporting or at least covering C cup breasts. He easily slid the bra up over his flat chest and nipples. He twisted his nipples as he had done to me.
"Here, Elizabeth, suck and lick this." He lifted his man-tit toward me as though I would suckle his nipple.
When I did not, he said, "Well, I guess this is the way to show you what I am talking about then."
He sat on the bench in the booth, put his arms around my hips, and pulled me to him. He latched his mouth onto my right nipple, which was now as hard as a rock. The result was that for the first time the thought I was pretty appeared in my brain, ever!
My opinion about my body changed forever in that rough and invasive touching and suckling of my nipple. I was, at first, struggling to free myself. Then I realized how it felt enjoyable. I was suddenly holding Don's head against my chest because I wanted him never to stop.
He stopped of his own accord, and said, "I have warmed you up, I see." We were both looking down at my crotch. I saw that I had pushed my pubic bone against him, and was grinding on him. I was smearing my dampness on his bare upper leg as I sat on his lap.
He returned to suckle, and I continued toward a crescendo of low rumbling seizures of ecstasy that I had never felt. I was having a series of multiple orgasms, and all he was doing was sucking on my nipple.
As he continued, he said, "I am a bottom, and I love to suck on men's tits as they fuck me missionary. I have to say, though, girl, your nipples are enticing me to reconsider my desires for intimacy with a woman."
Smiling, I replied, "Go get those tops you were telling me would make me look sexy. You can see how unsexy I am, except for my nipples."
When he left the booth, I was bare-chested. I had always been so self-conscious that I never was bare-chested anywhere. Never. However, I realized I did not care that the curtain was pushed to the side. I was facing the street windows with my chest visible to the beach. For the first time ever I think, I saw women that were not perfect. I saw some with big hips and fat thighs. I saw skinny, anemic looking model shapes. There were all kinds of sizes and shapes other than perfect.
Perfect is all I had seen all of these years. It was as if I had been blind.
Don returned with three tops on hangers, and with six or seven bottoms. He stepped into the booth and moaned.
"What is with the moaning?" I asked.
"You are so enticing that I have an erection thinking about how sexy you are. Fuck, girl, maybe I only think I am gay. What if I am not?”
"Here, get those panties and skirt off. First, we should find a bottom you like."
After I had stripped, he pulled the curtain closed because two women were watching us through the front window. He said. "They will be in the store in a few minutes. I am alone, so I will leave you for a bit while they are in the store."
He held a bottom; it was a lace-edged paisley print. I stepped into it. He stopped me and apologized as he swiped his palm and fingers through my vagina; to remove any moisture, or so he claimed while licking his fingers, then pulled the bottom up on my hips. The fit seemed too small to me. He opened the curtain, and with his hand on my elbow, he walked me across the store to a full-length mirror and showed me why this would be the right choice.
I was in front of the mirror before I realized I was top-less. My nipples hurt because they had tightened up so much. The pain in them is what caused me to notice my chest was bare. I rubbed them a little, and the pain became ecstasy again.
After turning this way and that, pulling up on the front, and running my fingers around the leg openings to push my pubic hair inside the panty-like bottom, I decided for sure that it was too small.
I slipped it off, felt that the gusset was soaked, then handed it to him. He laid it on the bench and helped me put on the second bottom. It was white.
The lightweight material made a triangle of fabric in front with a cord connecting through the crotch to the back panel at the waistband, where there was a smaller triangle. To put this one on, he had me stand in front of him then spread my legs apart. As he pulled the front and back up my right leg, he tied the front and back strings at the right side.
I spun around. Using the same palm and fingers, Don made sure my crotch was dry again. Then he pulled up the front and back strings to tie on the left side. Connecting the front to back was a cord that slipped into my vaginal crease at the bottom. It slid through my cheeks to hold the small triangle of cloth above my ass crease. This bikini bottom would become transparent when wet. The cord was already soaked, and I could feel my wetness running down the inside of my left thigh.
The bottom was devoid of any markings, design, or artwork. It had a matching bra top that I wanted to try on. I asked Don to wet it for me to see how transparent it looked when I wore it wet.
He returned with the top dripping. I placed it over my shoulders, tied the halter straps around the back of my neck. Then he tied the cord that was the bottom and turned me to look in the mirror on the wall of the booth. It was as though my tits were 38C or 40 DD all of a sudden; the transparent fabric changed the focus first to my vagina, legs, ass, and then to my breasts.
I loved the look and asked, "How much water will it take to keep it transparent?"
His reply was exciting. He said, "If you spray it with fabric softener, let it dry then shake it for a few minutes to loosen up the weave, it will be nearly transparent while dry."
After a minute, Don returned with another white top that was dry. He had a beach towel and proceeded to dry my chest. We tied the top on. The sight was, 'exactly what you need,' he thought out loud.
After a little adjustment, I paid him and wore the white bikini out of the store. I had gotten both top and bottom wet before I left the store. I stopped to put my wallet in my purse. I looked around and realized that nearly everyone walking by had stopped and was watching me. Those approaching from the front looked first at my crotch, where my pubic hair was wildly uncontrolled around the suit bottom. Those following me had the crack of my ass to view.
I had never felt better about my ‘A’ cup.
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Hi friends. Thanks for all your reply and comment. Mujhe ye jankar bahot khushi hui ki aap logo ko meri ye story itni achhi lagi. Please ek request hai. Don’t ask me for my number. Main kisi se number share nahi karti aur na hi interested in meeting or sex with the reader. Main Nafeesa aaj apni pehli story ka part 2 publish karne ja rahi hu. Main 23 saal ki hu. Mera figure 34 28 34 hai. Main fair hu aur slim bhi. Koi bhi ladka agar ek baar dekh le to tabhi hi uska lund khada ho jaayega. Mujhe...
My mind began to wander and maybe I drifted a bit towards sleep, but either way I never heard the key in the lock or the front door open until I heard a sexy, slightly slurred female voice say, “What do we have here?” This shocked me out of my reverie and when I looked up I saw Nidhi’s sister Neha standing in the doorway looking me up and down with an appraising eye. I had met Neha a time or two and the three of us had gone out on a few occasions. She lived about two hours outside of town and...
The next morning was beautiful. I had to stop and think about it to realize that it was Sunday. I also realized that if Tami's original schedule was holding, we only had four more days before we had to go back to the real world. Maybe we could head north. Just keep going and going. Find a spot in the Northwest Territories, build a cabin, and live happily ever after. No more school. No more Parker. No worrying about college and life after. Just Tami and me, and Robbie makes three. Of course...
Jess: “What do you mean, ‘What we’re going to do?’”Me: “Well, you said you don’t want a divorce, and you haven’t said anything about ending your whorish behavior. I’m not sure where I come down on this yet, so it may take me a while to decide. So, in the meantime, we’re going to do this.”Jess: “Don’t call me a whore. I’m not, and not a slut either. Such derogatory names. I won’t stand for it!”Me: “If it walks like a duck, Honey …. Don’t worry, those words are not in our normal vocabulary, but...
Liz glanced in the mirror in the ladies’ room before leaving the office. She wanted to look absolutely perfect for lunch with Alana. She knew that her dark blue skirt-suit was very businesslike, but she added a turquoise scarf to soften her look for this special social occasion. In the three years since Brandon, her main attorney, had married this beautiful, stylish blonde, Liz really enjoyed her chances to talk with Alana at the occasional cocktail parties and holiday receptions hosted by...
Our staff were happy to see us home. We had to attend meetings with the Magistrates and learned that Veldor had flipped out on them. The man had not liked admitting a few home truths as to how he obtained his wealth or his wife. They ended up sending him to a special place where they put people, who had difficulties relating to the world and that had been convicted of serious crimes. All of his wealth was confiscated. They determined that he has used Raelene’s wealth and title to accrue...
All your suggestions, criticisms and friendly msgs are more than welcomed at Reema had started to learn many new things with the help from Pallavi and Shanoy. Also, she would spend hours on the internet looking at porn and stuff. One day, while Rahul was fucking Pallavi, since Reema had told him to. But Pallavi could not enjoy it as much since she was least interested in guys. She got an idea to help her out. She picked up her lingerie and walked over to them fucking. She gave the bra to...
Pilar said, ““That’s good about Weinstein, right? The pig.” Vanessa glanced at me, then said, “Yeah, it’s a good thing so many women spoke out. Finally. But it’s not that simple.” Pilar frowned, “Why not?” Gertie said, “Ask Winter.” Walker looked from one of us to the other. Pilar’s hand rested on Hobo’s head. We were Saturday-lounging in our favorite corner booth. BEAR on Broadway. Fortunately we have an in with the owner who reserves the best table in the house for us when he knows...
A couple weeks after moving to a new city we were still getting to know our neighbors. The back is wide open and we can easily see into the back yards of five other houses. Since we moved in June we got to know them quickly because there was usually someone outside. Jeremy and Shelley Brooks, who live directly behind us, are very outgoing. My first impression of Jeremy was that he is a stereotypical alpha male. He can often be seen riding his bike on the roads or off-road trails, but you never...
The Curtsey Part V By Sissy Smith Maid Tabitha was dressed in a working maid's uniform. Contrary to what many think, a real sissy maid only wares a fancy French Maids uniform when serving formal affairs. The rest of the time the sissy maid is to be hard at work performing duties that could easily ruin a fancy and expensive uniform. Madam Pointed out to the two ladies that they should note the restraints placed upon Maid Tabitha. Madam said, "The restraints are not to stop Tabitha...
Dawn has beautiful hands. Soft, with shapely fingers, and fastidiously maintained nails. On the index finger of her right hand she wears a plain silver band, and on the pinkie, her grandmother’s old ruby ring. She keeps the fingers of her left hand bare, although on special occasions, she adorns the wrist with a silver bracelet. Her hands are much smaller than mine. When we walk together, my hand will completely engulf hers. I love the way her hand feels in mine: so warm, so feminine. Holding...
Author’s note: I wrote this novel out of sexual frustration during the months I spent working on an A.I.D. project in Oman, an extremely conservative Islamic state (no bars, movies, or extra women). It is copyrighted and is intended only for the private use of the readers. I would enjoy hearing from you. Chapter 1 – Bromfield’s Temptations Louise’s bra had disappeared while she was in the kitchen freshening our drinks. Her swollen, shapely bosom had come alive, jiggling and swaying under an...
The thunder woke me up, a deep sudden boom that shook me into the reality of Monday morning. I groaned as I looked at the clock, which was blinking 12:00. I reached until I found my phone on my side table and brought its face to mine. It told me what I suspected. I was late again. I arrived to work soggy and grouchy, but my mood plummeted to panic when I saw the stickie stuck to my monitor. “Mr. Villalobos. Conference Room 4. Monday. 8 O’ clock. DO NOT BE LATE!” It was written by my boss,...
This story has been reposted due to xhamster having converted every comma in the original post into a question mark for some unknown and baffling reason.Introductory notes; The following piece is an extract from my novel "Sarah's Garden". It is not a work of erotica as such so if you've come here looking for erotic stimulation then I apologise. Instead this piece is posted as a sort of exploratory discussion of transgenderism. Since I have been posting my work on this site I have had the...