Free The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies by Sonia Florens Page B

slide over my breast and
then lift it to Jackie’s waiting lips. The girlfriend caresses my tits as Jackie sucks on them – even in a fantasy, this is too heavenly for me to believe.
    Soon they have me sitting on the table, underwear off, Jackie’s head buried in my pussy while the girlfriend kisses my face and tits. As in all my fantasies, the admiration of my breasts
is ongoing: “Oh, your tits are so hot,” the girlfriend murmurs. Jackie raises her lips from my clit long enough to say, “I told you they were hot.” Looking me straight in
the eye, she adds sweetly, “I’ve been telling her for weeks how you have the nicest tits I’ve ever seen.” If I make it past this point, I add another scene: Jackie’s
girlfriend undoes her pants to release a strap-on dildo. She sits me on her lap facing away from her, and I can feel my clit under her fingers jutting forward like it does when my pussy is totally
full and turned on. Jackie spends some of the time sucking my clit, but then cannot resist my tits. She climbs up onto the table so that she is straddling me and her girlfriend. Then she lifts her
shirt, exposing her own small, round breasts. Shaking slightly from excitement, she rubs her small firm nipples against my larger, softer ones, grinding her body against mine until – well, if
I haven’t come by this point I always do right then, both in the fantasy and in reality.
    Another of my favourite fantasies never happened at all, in any form. I’m not really sure what made me think of it, other than perhaps it derived naturally from my sessions staring at my
tits in the bathroom mirror. In the fantasy, I am in my pajamas brushing my teeth at the sink. My breasts are particularly large, larger than in real life, so that as I brush my teeth they obstruct
my arm motion a bit. They also completely fill out the thin, worn top of my pajamas, bulging against the soft cloth. I haven’t closed the bathroom door, and a male roommate enters the
bathroom to grab something or other. He is vaguely good-looking and entirely made-up; he doesn’t even resemble anyone I know. He, too, is in old, worn pajamas. As I continue to brush my
teeth, he makes some small talk, then falls silent for a moment. I wonder why he isn’t leaving the bathroom already. Looking over at him, I see his hand is at his crotch. A giant erection
fills the front of his pants.
    “Olivia,” he asks, “would you mind if I beat off?” But he does not wait for a response; he has already pulled out his cock and is stroking it slowly.
    “Why can’t you do that in your room?” I ask him.
    “No, no, you’re the one who made me hard,” he responds. “I want to look at your tits. You don’t have to do anything. They just look so nice as you brush your
teeth.”
    Grudgingly I comply, resuming brushing my teeth and trying to ignore him. In the fantasy I am slightly put off, but in real life I am extremely turned on imagining this man so aroused by my
breasts. As he gets more excited, he begs me to lift my shirt, and I agree. By the end, he is fucking me over the edge of the sink. I can see his face contort in the mirror as he comes. My cleavage
swells seductively as I lean forward like a teenage singer in a publicity photo.
    Perhaps my dearest breast fantasy, though, is the one that really happened to me, from beginning to end. I still think about it frequently, and it brings me to orgasm every time. It was a one
night stand – but with a man I’d known for some time, a friend of a friend whose expression of cocky intelligence I’d admired for quite a while. One late, drunken night, he ended
up in my apartment. Of course there was a lot of kissing and groping, but in the fantasy I skip that part; in fact, I skip to after each of our first orgasms that night. I begin the fantasy as we
laid in bed, sweaty and sticky and naked, tangled in the bed sheets and our discarded clothing. I sat up suddenly, planning on getting a drink of water.