By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2007 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

Let’s hear it for Fridays!

The last few weeks had been tense. My senior literature students, those uniform clad, fresh faced teens were preparing for their end of term exams, desperate to please their crème de la crème alumni fathers who asked too much of them and spent too little time with them. I needed a break from the tensions holding their jaws too tight. I needed a break from my love for them. I tied my thick terry cloth robe around my middle, loving the weight of it, loving its feel against my shower-stimulated skin. It was a gift from my darling wife Sally who was out with her fellow real estate agents, enjoying the champagne opening of a new Health Spa a few blocks from our Brownstone. I, on the other hand, was happily choosing a nice stash of pictures and videos of large-breasted beauties who would tease me through my 6-pack and the pizza I had ordered. I was trying to decide whether to start the festivities with a stiff Scotch when the phone rang. It was Sally.

Hi, I’m on my way home. Put some clothes on. There’s somebody I want you to meet.

I tried to hide my disappointment. “That’s great, but I just ordered a small pizza. Are you hungry?”

We are, but I’m way ahead of you. I’m at Gorgio’s and I’ve changed your order to an extra large. It’ll be ready in a minute. I’m sorry to intrude on your evening, but I promise, you’ll be very happy that I did.

“That’s fine. See you soon.”

“Bye, Mysterygirl. Je t’adore.“ I sadly returned my buxom ladies to the cabinet. I’d had a raging fetish for large breasted women for as long as I could remember and my tolerant and understanding small breasted wife knew what I did with my Friday nights. On occasion she would join me, but this was the first time she had ever unexpectedly cut her night short to interrupt mine. I wondered what had happened? Not that it mattered. She had her reasons and that’s all that mattered. I wandered up the stairs to our bedroom and changed into my jeans and a sweat shirt. After a week of suits and ties, I refused to be anything but casual tonight in my own home. My cock that had been tingling with anticipation, grew limp with disappointment. I stroked it sympathetically through my pants and headed back downstairs. I might as well grab a beer and mark a few papers, I decided.

I had just finished granting an A+ to a very talented young student writer, when I heard the door open and close. Whispers, giggles, and the irregular click of high heels on tile, sounded the arrival of two girls or two very giddy women. Sally had always had girlfriends, but no-one special, no-one she brought home. How often had she told me that I was the only one she needed to confide in? Now, she seemed excited by whomever she had brought home and that was a good thing. I decided to continue my work and give them some space and time together. I picked up another essay and was soon lost in a story of young love, loss and angst. Although this was not as skilled as the first, it had greater depth and honesty; another A+.

They must have taken off their shoes because I could not hear them, but an unfamiliar perfume, a heady mix of sweet florals and spices, heralded their approach. I got up and moved around my desk to greet them.

“Hi darling, I want you to meet my new boss, Emily.”

“Good to meet you …”

The two of them standing there were so stunning that all I could do was stare.

“Look at his face!“ Sally exclaimed, and the two women burst into laughter.

I do not know how I looked, but I felt embarrassed and invaded, as though they had caught me masturbating. They were a study in contrasts. Sally, a pretty blonde capped, blue eyed pixie, was dressed in a black mock turtle necked top with a short swirling print skirt. She looked like the dancing ballerina in a vintage perfume bottle. Long-legged Emily, dressed in black slacks and turtle neck sweater, with her long raven hair cascading over her shoulders onto her massive breasts, belonged to the cougar family. Danger radiated from her piercing dark eyes like heat from the sun and I instinctively knew that straying too close would risk my being totally consumed. But, I could not help myself. As if drawn by magnets, my gaze swam and settled over her huge, huge breasts. Finally, Sally giggled and cleared her throat. Embarrassed, I forced myself to look into Emily’s eyes and all my fears were confirmed. She held my gaze unflinchingly. Her eyes were mocking. She knew my weakness and I knew she would use it. I felt small and vulnerable. She was the hunter, I was the prey, and Sally was completely unaware of the situation.

“Emily has taken over our whole region. She has some great ideas. Everybody in the office is excited, especially me. She’s going to give me some good leads,” Sally gushed.

“Because you deserve them,” Emily said.

“Let’s get this party going!” Sally turned and started back down the hall. Before following, Emily twisted toward me. Was it a coincidence that the angle of her breasts was perfect, that they looked as grand as any World Wonder? Her expression told me that she had planned act and effect and that I was just another man caught in her hypnotic sway. She ogled the bulge in my pants, smirked and then turned to follow Sally. I followed her, fully aroused and full of apprehension. Every sexual nuance, every come hither glint of her eye had been managed outside Sally’s field of vision. She had enclosed the two of us in a magnetic field that Sally was not even aware of and that frightened me to death.

“You get the drinks and I’ll handle the rest. What will you have Emily, wine, beer or something stronger?” Sally asked.

“Whatever everyone else is having,” Emily answered. “What’s the author drinking?”

“Author?” I gasped.

“Please, don’t be modest,” Emily said.

“Come, let’s get the drinks,” Sally said, hustling me toward the kitchen.

I glanced at Emily as she nonchalantly dropped onto the couch. Her tits bounced and my cock lurched and tingled. Her expression was so smug that it had became a sneer.

“Sally what have you done?” I asked, as soon as we had reached the privacy of the kitchen. I made no effort to keep the anger out of my voice. “What have you told her?”

“You know how proud I am of you and your novels,” Sally said. “I mean, you have this breast thing and Emily looks like one of your heroines. She’s gorgeous and has the biggest tits I’ve ever seen. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Not mind?” I exploded. “I’m a teacher at Oxford High. What do you think they’d do if they knew I was Meymour Tits, writer of erotic tit-fetish novels. They’d have my head. This was our secret. How dare you tell this woman you just met without talking to me? I suppose next you’ll tell me that you gave her one of my novels to read.”

“No, no.” Sally’s face had turned that special shade that flushed just before tears came. “I just showed her one part, you know the section in Melanie’s Gift when she and ….”

“No more,” I said. “Don’t tell me any more. You’ve placed our whole future in this woman’s hands and you don’t even know her.”

“She’s my boss and really nice,” Sally said, weakly. “I really like her and I know we’re all going to be great friends. Please, don’t be mad.”

I looked at my wife’s face. Innocence and trust shone from deep inside her and I loved her to the core of her and my being. “We’ll handle it,” I said, opening my arms. She slipped into them gratefully and I held her close. “It’ll be all right,” I said, kissing the top of her head. But I didn’t believe that Emily was nice or that it would be alright. Far from it. And what I was feeling terrified me. This woman had already reached into my psyche to engage an obsession that had driven me to write four novels. Not even I had plumbed its depths and I believed her intentions to be anything but honourable.

“You’re wonderful! Will you get the drinks?” she asked beaming, believing the crisis was over.

“Sure,” I said, pretending it was.

“I’ll make a salad and get things ready. Go and have a drink with Emily. I want you to get to know her.”

“Okay.”

“You can work and drink at the same time,” I said lightly, pouring a glass of Sally’s favourite Pinot Grigio.

“Thank you,” she said, “but don’t forget our guest.”

“I won’t,” I said, wishing that I could.

I grabbed a beer, poured another glass of wine and started down the hall. I felt as nervous as a schoolboy seeing tits for the first time, but the sexual tension was mixed with a very grownup sense of foreboding.

In the living room, Emily had her back turned to me, but her magnificent mammaries were presenting themselves on either side of her slim frame. She was talking intensely into her cell phone, but immediately hung up and turned toward me.

“Yummy,” she said, brushing her hand against mine, as she accepted her drink. Even that simple gesture registered itself somewhere between my cock and balls. My body was shameless in its betrayal of my efforts to remain circumspect in her presence.

“Sally’s making a salad. She’ll be along soon.”

“Don’t bet on it.” Emily’s voice was seductive, threatening and sure. “You and Sally have spent years together. I need time to give you what you’re aching for, some quality time with these.”

She looked down at her breasts, licking her lips, and all I wanted was to see them, touch them … and she knew it. She undressed me with brazen eyes and the faithless cock that Sally loved so well, surged with pleasure. Fortunately, the phone rang and I was thrilled to be able to relieve the sexual tension that was choking the good sense right out of me.

“It’s for Sally,” I said. “Excuse me.”

I took the phone to the kitchen and stood stupidly by while Sally answered it. I needed time to gather myself. I felt like this woman had reached deep inside me to prod a sleeping, dangerous beast awake. I looked at my wife and prayed for help, as she hung up and handed me back the phone.

“It was work. I have to leave for Bearding right away. I’m booked on the nine-fifteen train. You don’t mind do you? “ Her face was animated, happy.

“Couldn’t you go down in the morning?”

“ A bunch of choice Estate listing are going up tonight. They’ll be waiting for me at the hotel and I can study them tonight and be ready to go in the morning. You don’t mind do you?“ she asked again, more patiently this time, as though I were a petulant, hard-of-hearing child.

“Couldn’t they send someone else?“

“I don’t want them to send anybody else. I want to go. It’s my time to shine.“ Her voice was raised and quite irritated. “What’s the matter with you? You’ve never stood in my way before. We don’t do that to each other,“ she sounded upset, confused. “I’ll grab a cab. The pizza’s in the oven. Please feed Emily. The salad’s made, but needs to be tossed.“

“I’m sorry. I’ll take care of things,” I said, too late. She had left the kitchen and was bounding up the stairs.

There would be no feeding the prowling Emily. I turned off the oven and refrigerated the salad in a plastic salad keeper. Undressed it might last till tomorrow besides, that was the least of my problems. I could hear Sally rushing about upstairs. Emily would have to go. I returned to the living room.

“Sally has to go out of town on business and I think you should go,” I said.

“I know she‘s leaving. I arranged it. Didn‘t I tell you that we needed time together?”

“Time together?! I’m Sally’s husband. What are you trying to do?”

“Give you what you want. This has nothing to do with Sally. Relax!”

“I …”

Sally bounded into the room, interrupting me. “A cab will take too long. Will you drop me off at the station?”

“Yes, and you can drop me at my place after,” Emily said smoothly.

“Don’t you want to stay and have some pizza? You must be starving,” Sally said.

“Bring it along. We can eat it at my place when you drop me off,” Emily suggested.

“Good thinking,” Sally agreed.

Not! I thought, but within minutes was driving my wife, her vixen boss and our dinner, out of our driveway. I was excited and afraid, ashamed and emboldened, all at the same time. Sally had insisted on sitting in the back and she and Emily were chattering like old friends. There was such comfort between them that part of me wondered whether Emily’s tits had actually driven me mad. But Emily’s admission that she had arranged this whole thing was still ringing in my ears. I concentrated on the traffic.

Wishing Sally well, kissing her goodbye, driving back to Emily’s, parking and taking the elevator up to her condo was an out of body experience. Walking into her apartment, pizza and salad in hand, brought me back to earth. I was in the apartment of a woman who wanted to bring me to my knees. I knew it. She knew it. And my wife’s absence until tomorrow night, made her an unwilling and unwitting partner.

“I’ll get you a beer and warm the pizza,” Emily said, taking the food from my hands. I followed her along a short hall. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I walked into her living room, breathing a sigh of relief, as she continued along the hall to the kitchen. The décor was calming, tan modern furnishings against eggshell walls. I checked out her bookshelves, finding that her taste in books, from Stephen King novels to Martin Luther King discourses, was most eclectic. Her taste in music, from Opera to Jazz to Broadway was the same. I picked a CD that I owned and was really enjoying, The Enchantment, a duo album with Béla Fleck and Chick Corea, and dropped it into her player. The familiar strains soothed me. Maybe things were not as bad as they seemed. After all, Sally liked Emily. Maybe she was just a tease and it had hit me hard because I was so married, had been unfamiliar with flirtation for so long. I was suddenly tired. I rested my head against the couch, closed my eyes and got lost in the music.

“How about a picnic?”

My eyes flew open to the image of Emily in a white leotard and slacks. I could see a white lacy bra underneath and the low-cut neckline exposed the longest line of cleavage and the greatest expanse of live breast flesh that I had ever seen. If only I had bothered to pull on my briefs. There was no denying my cock’s appreciation of her appearance or her appreciation of my cock’s appreciation.

“Oh my,” she whispered, staring insolently at my crotch, “I like you, too.” On the floor, she spread our food on a red and white checker tablecloth. “Come. Kick off your shoes and let’s get down and dirty.”

She picked up a pizza slice and examined it lazily before taking a bite. “Good,” she said.
I reached for a slice and she slapped my hand away. “It’ll taste better this way.” She took a bite, chewed it and leaned toward me. Her breasts seemed even bigger as she approached and instant sweat prickled my forehead. I tried to back away, but her looming breasts and pouting lips held me. “Here baby,” she said. I could smell pizza and feel the smear of her lips as she kissed me gently. She licked and nibbled before using her tongue to feed me small well masticated portions. I felt dizzy and leaned back against a handy chair. I was experiencing something I’d never felt before and it was turning me on.

“There’s a sweet, sweet sub lurking deep inside you and I’m just the one to give it life,” she said, pushing the pizza box toward me.

“I don’t think so,” I said, sounding insecure and petty, even to my own ears.

“Don’t try and think,” she said, “It’ll only confuse you. What I’m talking about is feeling, not thinking.”

“This is crazy,” I said. “I’ve never been unfaithful to Sally and I don’t intend to start now.”

“You’re already committed or you wouldn’t be here. You and Sally are fine. You are not. I’m simply encouraging you to be yourself.”

“I am being myself. I’m a happily …”

“Not the married thing again,” she snorted. “A quick perusal of those novels of yours told me everything I needed to know. You’re a man with a breast fetish, a man who longs to be sexually owned. It’s all over your writing. Don’t try to deny it.”

“Writing is one thing, acting out is another.”

“I agree. But the one thing writing is, is the real truth.”

I drank too much and ate too much, but the conversation was stimulating, and I could pretend for awhile that it was all innocent, that I was simply having dinner with Sally’s new friend. Emily behaved herself so well that I began to relax. That is, until I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Until the door opened and there she stood in her black diaphanous robe with nothing underneath but her white lacy bra and thong. I had pulled up my trousers, but could not escape. She moved behind me, pressing herself against my back, and massaging my cock and balls through my jeans. The pleasure was so great that my knees buckled. “Just follow me,” she cooed.

I did. Her tits had enslaved me. I followed her into a bedroom that was all female, all pink and frills, powders and perfume. I felt like I’d entered another dimension. I tried to think of Sally, but her strength had been diluted by my greed for pleasure, my need for this vixen, my total absorption in the pleasure she made me feel. I knew that I was placing myself and my marriage in great danger, but it ;no longer seemed to matter.

She climbed onto her bed. “Strip for me,” she said, “nice and slow.”

Music came from everywhere, soft and sensuous. I was more embarrassed than I’d ever been in my life, but I swayed from one foot to another, casting off my shirt, bending over awkwardly to take off one sock and then another. She sat there smiling and playing with her titties. She lifted her hips to remove her thong and then settled back, opening the lips to expose her pink luscious pussy. “Take off those jeans and play with your cock for me.” I watched her finger her pussy, as I stroked myself to madness. I watched her insert one, two and then three fingers inside, heard her moans of pleasure and globs of come spewed out of me. My face slackened, my eyes rolled upward and I almost collapsed. “You’re mine. You’re perfect,” she screamed, at the height of her orgasm. And my post orgasmic self heard and knew what real terror was.

“Come to bed,” she said.

“I should go home,” I said.

“Come to bed,” she repeated.

And I did.

I awoke the next morning in heaven. My cock was engulfed in a cavern of warm liquid and swirling tongue, pressed lips against my sweet spot. Waves of breasts washed over my legs, nipples tantalized my skin, and I moaned and groaned in ecstasy. I was magically afforded as much pleasure as I could take, given a moment to recoup, and then stimulated further. “Now, I’m going to fuck you,” she said, rolling a rubber expertly over my full blown erection. She climbed on top of me and began to ride me like I had never been used before. She knew her weight and her rhythms. I watched hypnotized as her breasts flopped and bounced and swayed. I held on, determined not to disappoint. “Now,” I heard her command, and I let myself come, as she howled her own pleasure to the noonday sun, and then collapsed heavily on my chest.

I held her while she dozed for awhile, as reality descended upon me like bricks upon a baby’s skull. I felt exhausted from the drinking the night before, from the sex, but mostly from my own duplicitous actions. Sally would be home in a few hours and I had no idea what I was going to tell her.

“You’re awake?” Emily said, sleepily.

“I haven’t slept. I’ve got to get going.”

“Sally won’t be home for a few hours. You need some sleep.”

“What I need for you to understand is that I love my wife. That as wonderful as it’s all been, it can never happen or be spoken about again. I would rather die than hurt Sally and knowing about this would kill her.”

“We’re not going to kill Sally,” she laughed, “but you need some sleep.”

She understood. It was going to be alright. Relief descended upon me as her fingers touched me to sleep, feathers on skin, the massage of the angels.

I awoke with a start. A telephone was ringing a familiar tune much too loudly, and I was naked, alone in a strange bed and, according to my shriveled cock, completely spent. I traced the irritating sound to my own cell lying on the table next to me and reached for it. It fell silent. I looked around the room. It was manifestly feminine with it’s pink walls, paler pink ruffled curtains and deeper pink plush carpet. It was manifestly illicit, sweaty after-sex and her perfume were odorous indictments hanging heavily in the air. I felt suddenly claustrophobic and in great danger. Before I could order my thoughts, the phone rang again.

“Hello.”

“Hi, I just got home. The trip was very successful; I got a one million dollar offer in. Where are you? Emily’s on her way over with Chinese food. Now all that’s missing is you and we can celebrate. How long will it take you to get here?”

“I’m just finishing a meeting.” I spoke my first lie, wondering how many more I’d tell before the night was over. “I should be home within the hour.”

“Pick up some wine on the way and hurry.”

“Will do. See you soon.”

I hung up. There was a note left beside the phone. A key lay on top of it. I discarded the key and began to read:

Contrary to your eloquently expressed opinion, we will not be ending our little arrangement. You’ve been my perfect little Baby Boy all night and all day and I intend to have and to hold from this day forward. Sally called. She‘s back and up for some Chinese. If you don’t want her finding out about what a bad boy you’ve been, you’ll keep quiet and do what you have to do to keep us both happy.
The key is yours to keep. Mi casa es tu casa. Lock up when you leave. Sally and I will be waiting at your house. Be on your best behaviour and you’ll have nothing to worry about. See you soon, Emily.

I savaged the note into tiny pieces, as though it were my recent past, dropped them into her rose-colored trash can, and headed for the shower. Until now, I’d been a happily married man and faithful for fifteen years. Why was I destroying it all and with someone I was quickly learning to despise? The obvious answer appeared in images:

Emily’s breasts stretching the fabric of a white leotard, the total expanse of her breast flesh and cleavage accentuated by the low cut of the bodice. Emily’s breasts taunting me beneath the black turtleneck she was wearing when we met Emily’s naked ponderous breasts grazing my chest as she rode me, her captured stallion.

The very memory of her tits made my cock throb to life, betraying my good intentions, and refueling my self-loathing. My heart pounded and overweight frogs played let’s leap in the pit of my stomach. All I wanted was to shower away every reminder of Emily, the she-devil that seemed bound and determined to ruin my life. I turned on the water, making it as hot as I could stand without scalding myself. As I stepped under the harsh spray, I imagined what a raped woman felt and hoped that they were spared the kind of guilt I was feeling. I deserved it. A rape victim never would. The only thing we shared was the need to decontaminate, disinfect and purify. I grabbed the bar of soap. I could not lather enough, scrub enough.

Eventually, I stepped out of the shower and began to furiously towel myself. I was a man about to go into battle. I would fix this thing, hopefully before my wife knew anything about it. It took me less than five minutes to dress, lock myself out of Emily’s den, drop her key in her mailbox and be on my way.

Outside, I walked quickly to my car. A strong wind blew off the lake, cooling my skin and my mind. The first thought that penetrated my guilt, and I grabbed onto it desperately, was that I had not gone looking for trouble. Sally had brought her straight to our door and, by sharing my novels, our private and personal world, armed Emily with weapons of mass seduction. Now it was my job to save us both and I would, no matter what it took.