If I have nothing to do at the end of the afternoon, I usually go home early, but today I couldn’t because I was waiting for an important phone call. So I killed time by going through my archives and refrained from watching porn on the Internet. Shortly before five, my neighbour, an art dealer, knocked on the door. “I have to leave urgently to take my young son to the doctor, but I am expecting someone to bring me some paintings. If you sit here for a while, could you look after her? She can come at any time, and I’ll be back in an hour myself. I agreed, got the key to her office and got back to work.
Just when it didn’t matter anymore, of course, the man I was working overtime for called, and I was left with nothing to do until the artistic bitch had delivered her work to my neighbour. To my relief, after a few minutes, I saw a van pull into the car park and stop in front of the gate. A plump woman dressed in black stepped out and lifted a much too large painting from the van and brought it to the door. There was no mention of me helping to carry it, but the sooner this mess was upstairs, the sooner I could go home.
I walked down the two flights of stairs where the artist was waiting for me. “I’m Mrs Webers neighbour,” I said, “and as she’s going away for a while, I’ll help you with the paintings. “That’s nice, because I would never get them up the stairs alone,” she replied. I looked at her carefully and, despite my moderate mood, softened a little. She was quite firm indeed, but she had a friendly face with cheerful eyes and dark hair. She seemed to be somewhere in her forties. Being a fan of large breasts, I tried to guess whether hers were in proportion to the rest of her body, but her wide black mackintosh made it hard to tell.
Enough dreaming for now, there was work to be done.
The painting, which was apparently for sale, measured a whopping one and a half by two and a half metres. It was protected by plastic, but I could see the image clearly: a naked greybeard, rather moody, it seemed, standing in front of a bookshelf. Who would buy that? When we had hung the canvas, she turned and walked straight back. “Would you like to help me with my other painting?” Sure, no problem. I trudged along behind her. At least she had a deliciously fat ass and I could see her upper body moving as if she had something heavy to carry up there.
The second painting was of a young man, again naked, and again with a bookshelf in the background. This man also did not look happy, but rather a little bored. Another canvas I would not want on my wall, if only because of its size. The man himself seemed to me to be well painted by observation, with a great eye for detail. He was not a bad painter.
These two great works of art were all that remained, so I could finally go home, were it not for the fact that I had now become curious about her. I offered her a cup of coffee, which she gladly accepted. We finally got to know each other. Her name was Yvon, she lived in the city, and she actually made a living from her work. I was waiting for her to take off her coat, but she did just as I was busy with the coffee machine. So my first sight of her body without that crazy black bag was that of her still brown jumper as she stood with her back to me at the coat rack. But man, man, I could already see from the back that this Yvon must have very big breasts, because they were already bulging at the sides. And my breath stopped when she turned around.
Her curves stretched at least thirty centimetres forwards and only slowly slid downwards, only to come back slightly near her belly, past her navel. What huge, deliciously soft nipples seemed to be hidden beneath that brown wool. Of course, I had to keep looking at her while I was busy with the coffee, but by now I was fixated on those gently rocking pillows, two metres away from me.
Her huge tits resting on the table.
Yvon sat down across from me, her huge tits resting on the table. I could already feel my pre-cum seeping into my trousers. Still, I managed to pour the hate coffee without spilling it and start a conversation about her work. “What kind of paintings do you do?” I asked. “Mostly models in somewhat surreal settings. It’s just a shame they’re so expensive to get, because I usually need one or two sessions to get a good painting out of them. But I don’t work as a portrait painter because I don’t want to lose my artistic freedom. “Oh, I used to work as a model myself, at the Minerva Academy. I personally thought it was well paid: 45 guilders for an evening.
But yes, that was back when I was living on student loans”. “Well, if you ever have a few evenings free, I’d love to paint you,” Yvon laughed, “because you have a delicious figure to practise on, anatomically speaking. My heart leapt and I had to stop myself from saying that I would love to go to her studio with her right now, but instead I gave her my card and wrote down her address. “I think it would be fun to be a model again, just call me if you are shy for someone,” I said. By now she had finished her coffee and just then my neighbour knocked on the door. “Ah, look at that, you’ve been well looked after, I see. Nice work you brought back. Thank you, Willem, for your good care.” “Yes, and thank you for the coffee,” Yvon said, “and I’ll call you later.” She took her coat from the wardrobe and walked out of the office. For a moment I felt her deliciously soft breasts brush against my hip.
My desire for her became so consuming that my work began to suffer. I had to see her or I would lose my job. I barely listened to what was said on the phone and read all the important news in the newspapers.
I couldn’t get her out of my mind for the next few days. Her breasts were definitely the biggest I had ever seen in person, or at least estimated. But I must have put the note with her address so carefully away when I went home that day that I couldn’t find it, and I didn’t dare ask my neighbour for it. Instead, I masturbated daily and searched my collection of breasts for women who had her breasts.
Thank God the modelling market in the north was so tight that after only two weeks, Yvon called me on a dreary Monday to remind me of my obligation to sit for her model. Even during this conversation, I got a huge boner. It took all my concentration to make an appointment at a time when I was actually free, unfortunately not for three days. “Should I wear something special?” I finally asked. “No way, everything has to come off by Thursday,” she laughed.
As soon as I hung up the phone, I imagined those soft, undulating kisses bobbing up and down so deliciously under her jumper, jerking off faster than ever. What a pity it was me and not her who had to pose naked.
Trembling with nerves and soaking wet, I rang her doorbell that Thursday evening. It was pouring, and I had been stupid not to bring an umbrella. She lived in one of those old barge houses on the edge of the park. I only hoped there wasn’t a man in the house, because although I had no faith in the outcome of this session, a disappointment beforehand would have destroyed my motivation to pose beautifully. But no, she opened the door herself. God, how beautiful she was! She was wearing a very generous white ruffle, which could not hide the size of her huge breasts, but it could hide their shape. So a lot of ravishing was left to guess. Her voluptuous lower body was covered by an equally voluptuous black skirt.
She had lifted her dark hair again, two brushes running through it. “Welcome to my castle,” she said solemnly. With that, she closed the door and took my cloak. “Boy, how wet you are, don’t you want to get undressed right away? It’s nice and warm in here, and I’ll hang your wet things out to dry. It was indeed unbelievably warm in her room, which served entirely as a studio cum den. A round gas stove roared in the middle. “I don’t want my models complaining about the cold,” Yvon said, “because then they might not come back. Getting rid of my soaked clothes was a good idea, though. Once in my trousers and with a cup of coffee, I felt very comfortable.
It was a messy but very comfortable room. Drawings and paintings hung everywhere, while the wooden floor was full of jars of water, turpentine, tubes, etcetera…. Yvon had crawled into a comfortable armchair. Her huge memes were resting on her lap, and her hands were resting on them again. “If only those were my hands,” I thought, already feeling an erection rising again. We chatted a bit about the bad weather, and I complimented her on the work I had seen. Almost all naturalistic stuff, portraits, still lifes and some landscapes. Meanwhile, I couldn’t take my eyes off the impressive curves under her jumper. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice.
When she finished her coffee, she said, “Now we’d better get to work, otherwise we won’t get it done tonight. Cunt, so it would be just this one session! “Where do you want me and in what pose?” “Wait, I’m coming”. With difficulty, she crawled out of her chair, her huge tits waving dangerously back and forth. She placed me near the stove, so that, despite my nakedness, I felt more hot than cold. She brought an easel closer and then gave me instructions. I had to stand with my hand on the back of a chair, and I had to take off my knickers. I had done this so many times at the Minerva art school, but in the presence of this extravagantly plump, super-sexy woman I was a little embarrassed, which incidentally had the advantage of keeping my rod quiet.
In the hours that followed, I was able to feast my eyes. I could not get enough of running my eyes over her busy body. Her very thick buttocks, her firm thighs and those unbelievably large breasts, which I could see were not confined by a bra, but hung freely down like two buttery sacks of delicious fat. By some miracle I did not get a hard-on, which had been my main concern.
Occasionally I took a break to loosen the muscles a little, but she was not very talkative now. She preferred to concentrate on painting. She paid particular attention to the details of my body that I noticed, leaving the background and my face untouched for now. She explained that this could be done later, but after all she only had my body for a few hours. “As long as you want, love,” I thought, but wisely kept my mouth shut.
After two hours she said, “It’s on. I would like you to stay a little longer so I can work on your face. Then you won’t have to stand any more.” She pulled out an old knob chair and carefully placed a cushion on it so I wouldn’t get those wicker marks on my bottom. “Shouldn’t I put my clothes on?” I asked. “Ah how silly, I forgot to hang them up,” Yvon said. “I’ll just sit like this for a while and then I’ll hang them up straight away”. “That’s good, because it’s still pretty hot in here,” I said. “Yes, now that you mention it. Do you mind if I take something off too?” asked Yvon, putting her money where her mouth was. Her huge breasts lifted a little as she took off the sweater over her head, but then sank back down to her navel, now covered only by a white t-shirt that would have been way too big for me.
Her breasts continued to quiver for seconds, and I suddenly became very horny at the sight. My pole became as big as it had never been before and I had to put both my arms in my lap to protect it from her eyes. Yvon now bent down to take off her skirt as well. Finally I had a view! I could see through the ample neckline of her t-shirt those two massive masses of flesh hanging free, so large that they were still pressed tightly together. Oh, to be allowed to linger between them, with my head or with my now jumping cock, to hold, knead and kiss those delicious udders… But she was already upright again and wanted to sit behind her ass.
“You can put your knickers on, of course,” she said, “they were still dry. Now I had to get up to put my trousers on, and of course she could see that I had a huge erection. She pretended to change her mind. “Wait a bit, I want to sketch you naked now that you are sitting down”. “Fine,” I said, thinking, “maybe she didn’t see it. “Move your hands away from your crotch,” she said, now with a smile. What could I do? I put my hands at my sides and she stood up to take a closer look at my swollen genitals. “What are you so upset about all of a sudden? Surely not my ugly fat body?” I nodded wordlessly, my mouth agape. “Really? I’ve always wanted to meet a man like you! Are you attracted to my huge tits? Do you get horny just looking at them while I still have my clothes on? Honestly?” Again all I could do was swallow and nod. “Do you like big breasts like mine? Shall I show them to you? Would you like to look at them?” And as she said that, she pulled her t-shirt off over her head and I saw her two gigantic, delicious, black, quivering and heaving breasts appear.
She also shook her hair loose and said, “I don’t think there’ll be much more painting tonight. Finally, a man who doesn’t run away screaming when he sees my fat body. But you’ll be rewarded, darling, because my tits are tastier than the softest of pillows and I’m also as hot as a bunch of onions. You won’t be out of here for a while,” I stood up to grab her, but she pushed me back into my chair and sat on my lap, so that I was suddenly surrounded by many kilos of delicious, satiny-soft, bewitching flesh. My rod had naturally slid into her soaking wet, steaming cunt where it was now being massaged by hundreds of muscles that only seemed to suck my cock deeper. But that wasn’t the most delicious thing. The most delicious thing was those two huge soft tits I felt all over my body as we kissed passionately.
“Just knead my delicious fat udders, let your fingers wiggle deliciously in this tender flesh,” she panted, “then later I’m going to spoil you so deliciously with my breasts that you won’t know where you are anymore. She was now riding me at a fast pace and seemed to be coming on the conveyor belt. My hands now cupped her delicious breasts and the feeling alone made me come spontaneously. How unbelievably deliciously soft and warm those breasts were. My fingers sank deep into those velvety mountains of flesh, I lifted them up and felt them resting almost fluidly on my hands and lowered in their abundance around her. The sensation of softness made me come like never before. Now I had lifted her breasts so high that they formed a barrier of up to 40 centimetres between me and Yvon. I buried my face between those leaden, tender tits and began to lick her swollen nipples. By now my ejaculation had passed, but I still had no desire to stop stroking, licking and sucking. Yvon had calmed down too, but still remained straddling me as I licked, sucked and kneaded her delicious breasts with my hands.
“How delicious you have spoiled me. Shall I spoil you now with my deliciously thick tits?” She slid off my lap and knelt beside me, flattering her huge breasts in my crotch so that my cock was completely trapped between the soft masses of flesh. The pressure of her own weight instantly revitalised my rod. It was the most blissful feeling I had ever experienced, until the moment she also began to rub her breasts gently against each other. “Yummy horny, come deliciously between my huge soft tits, I will milk you completely with these huge udders of mine,” she mumbled as I squirted load after load of sticky cum into that wet warm horny valley between her breasts. She continued to massage me until all I could see was the soft dark skin of her breasts, marbled with wispy blue veins, rippling and heaving under the pressure of her hands.
When I really couldn’t go on any longer and my pole was small and limp between those massive mounds of flesh, she stood up. “Do you want to sleep here tonight, darling, or do you have to go home?” “I’ll stay here until you send me away,” I said, “I won’t leave before then. “That’s fine. Then we should get ready for the night. Do my big breasts still excite you?” I watched as she began to knead her breasts herself, taking turns bringing them to her mouth to lick off my cum. Then she dropped them again, and the soft flesh seemed to vibrate endlessly. “Yes, I could get completely addicted to your breasts, although my rod is a bit out of count now,” I said, hoarse from a new surge of lust. “Good, then stay downstairs for a while, I’ll get the bedroom ready upstairs,” she said and stumbled up the stairs, everything about her vibrating and bouncing just as seductively.
It was fifteen minutes before she called me into her small bedroom, which was completely taken up by a large double bed. She had taken the time to make herself beautiful. Smiling, she sat on the edge of her bed, wearing a white translucent negligee with a white fur fringe, her unbelievably large breasts resting in her lap. Her thick, long hair was draped over them in the most seductive way. I immediately went mad with desire again. “Do you like really big soft tits?” she asked as if it was some kind of password, “then take me. I’m all yours.” She let herself fall backwards, blushing, and sank deep into her own bed. Her breasts fell over her own face, covering it effortlessly. With that, she turned so that she was on her hands and knees, her nightgown still on. “Come on, I’m going to make you even hornier than you are now.” I jumped on the bed and willingly let her lay me on my back. She crawled astride me again, making the bedspring sag under her weight. She jammed my nail-hard cock back into her opening, put her knees on my hands so I couldn’t grab her breasts and began to ride me very gently.
When she sat fully erect, her breasts dangled in front of my face like two heavy, oil-filled balloons, but when she leaned forward for a moment, my face was covered by that huge mass of soft, springy tit meat, almost smothering me in that gigantic bosom. It smelled of delicious perfume and felt like the softest, most horny substance imaginable. She increased the speed at which she rode me and started to come hard. “Delicious, oh how delicious, oh here you have my tits, they are for you,” she moaned and now she let her breasts slide over my head with their full weight so that I was completely engulfed by them.
Then she moved those super pillows against each other until I squirted jets of semen into her again with an unusually prolonged orgasm. She did not let go either: she screamed and then fell forward, exhausted. Let’s go to sleep now, darling,’ she moaned, ‘I can’t go on any longer. I did the same, and soon we were spooning in the big soft bed, my arms wrapped around her huge soft breasts.
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