Attempt to TITilate him [End]

You pan the mirror up from your slender legs, wide hips to the impressive swell of your cleavage. You have big tits. Maybe not quite as big as the udders Haley is swinging around, but yours aren't nearly as pendulous even though Haley barely looks 20. Overflowing the lacey pink cups of your too-small bra your pale titflesh is ready to burst forth from the low v-neck of your sweater.

Mr. Perry was giving them a lot of attention too. If he's a breast man you'll have him hooked.

Reaching beneath your sweater, you expertly unfasten your bra and slide the straps from your shoulders. Freed from their bondage, your big tits settle a little lower. Your nipples are achingly hard and hot. They are clearly defined beneath the sweater. You smooth your skirt, choose a random hard copy of spreadsheets, and head to Mr. Perry's office. Wendy in reception is occupied with ordering something over the phone, so you had right up to the door, your firm ass given a little help by your two-inch heels. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever may come from your attempt at seduction, and knock on the door.

"Come on in," says Mr. Perry.

The clicking sound of your heels precedes you into his office. It's appointed in fine wood and covered with various hunting and fishing trophies. A long, dark leather couch stretches beneath a bookcase. Mr. Perry, at his captain's desk beneath the head of a moose, is wearing his reading glasses and paging through a trade magazine. You hold the binder in front of you, your arms working to push the soft mounds of your breasts together and up, threatening to squeeze them out of your sweater. Mr. Perry looks up and immediately blushes, his eyes locking onto your chest.

Summoning your sultry voice once more, you come around to his side of the desk and offer the hard copy to him.

"I thought you should have a look at this," you say and as you give it to him you lean forward. Your heavy breasts stretch the neck of the sweater down and he can see right down your top to the dangling, creamy flesh on display.

"What is it?" asks Mr. Perry, apparently unable to look away from your cleavage.

"I was just so worried," you say, "that I couldn't handle it all myself. I needed a man to help."

"The, ah, well, ah, I'm not an accountant, but, ah, I could take a look." You've got him tripping over himself with nerves. He opens the hard copy and begins scanning through it. "What, ah, what am I looking for?"

You take a pen from his desk and lean against his shoulder. The tops of your breasts spill to the neck of your sweater as you press your flesh against him.

You lean in closer, pointing with the pen, and your breasts are literally pressing against his face. You raise a hand to his back and rub it, hopefully encouraging him to take action.

"Oh my God," he murmurs.

"What is it?" you ask, pressing your tits even more against his face.

"It's your tits," he says, turning his face into them. "They're amazing."

You're not sure about that last part, because he says it right into your tits, his breath hot down your sweater.

"Oh, Mr. Perry," you coo, moving your hand up to the back of his head and pulling him more firmly against your chest. If the lips excitedly smacking against your titflesh are any indication, you've succeeded in seducing Mr.

Perry. What do you do with him now? Mr. Perry eagerly answers that question for you, turning and depositing your butt on his desk. He shoves papers and desk ornaments to the floor and sprawls you out. Standing over you, he grins as he drags up your sweater. You pull it over your arms and head and expose your bare breasts to him, which he falls on like an eagle swooping a fish out of a river. He lips loudly smack from one breast to the other, his tongue teases your nipples, he mashes and squeezes and nibbles and sucks.

You start out with him acting like it's turning you on, but the intensity with which he manhandles you and sucks on your breasts turns those fake sighs into real ones.

"Your breasts are gorgeous," Mr. Perry gasps, lifting his face from your mauled mams. "I need them. Let me fuck them."

"You want to fuck my tits?" you ask, sitting up and creating an enticing shelf beneath them with one forearm. "Move back and I'll let you fuck them."

He takes a step back, almost in a frenzy to unbuckle his belt and drop his pants. His cock springs out as you drop to your knees in front of him. His cock is huge - you guess ten inches or more - swollen to purple and deep scarlet. He grips it and strokes and precum drools from the fat head. You insinuate your hand beneath his and take over for him, stroking his hot meat and positioning yourself so that he can fuck your tits. To be honest, it always boob jobs always seemed a bit pointless, but if a man was into them and you were into him then you were willing to live with a little friction burn once in a while. Normally you would start a man off with a very wet and messy blowjob to get him lubricated, but Mr. Perry seems to have done all the work for you. His cock is drenched in his excited juices.

Your boss reaches down and mashes your breasts together. You guide his slimy sword to the tight trench between your tits. It sleeps into the soft canyon and is so oily it takes a few tries to get him wedged in there without popping out. You finally have to take over handling your breasts from Mr. Perry, using the heels of your palms to press your breasts together around his huge dick and your interlaced fingers to trap his cock in your cleavage. Looking up at him with a smile on your face, you begin to bounce your tits against him, the purple head of his massive fucktool popping up from between your tits with each downward stroke, pushing almost to your chin and smearing your throat with more of his leaking juices.

"That's so hot," Mr. Perry groans. He leans his heavy bulk against his desk, letting you fully take over, his lower body at an angle so he can watch you fuck his cock with your tits. It's quite a workout. You wonder how many calories you're burning bouncing yourself up and down on his huge cock.

The smell of his arousal and the friction-heat of his cock between your tits is turning you on, but you have no means to pleasure yourself. You focus on him. Reacting to his every moan and sigh.

"Don't stop," he groans after a few minutes. "Go faster, Becky. I'm almost there."

You bounce your tits on him faster and faster despite the ache in your back and the burn in your shoulders. The heat between your tits has become a little unpleasant, but you keep smiling encouraging him to, "Spray me with your cum."

He obliges you moments later, barking out, "Fuck!" There's too much going on to feel his cock throbbing, but you feel the splash of hot spunk on your throat, big gobs splashing up against the underside of your chin and your neck and gathering at the top of your cleavage in a thick, creamy puddle.

His cockhead spears through the veil of cum with each downward stroke, twitching and adding another gush of his cum to the flood on your chest.

Finally, Mr. Perry stops you wtih a hand on your shoulder and you slowly release the pressure holding his cock in place. It thumps against his back against his belly. You smile up at him, rubbing his load into the friction redness on your chest like a lotion.

"I can never get rid of you," Mr. Perry says and he leans down and plants a long, sweaty kiss on your lips.

Your raunchy performance for Mr. Perry secures your place at the company and drives Haley out of his inner circle. A few whispered words after another hot, sticky titfuck in his office and Haley is no longer employed there. She deserved it, not because she tried to get your job, but because she was a really shitty accountant. Your relationship with Mr. Perry develops into a perverse routine. He calls you into his office "to go over the numbers" and you end up on your knees, cramming him into your tits, or sucking him off, or, less often, bent over his desk being pounded from behind. He's still not your type of guy, but if you close your eyes it's not so bad. He even makes you cum sometimes with that big cock of his and that's more than you can say about your husband.

YOU'VE MANAGED TO KEEP YOUR JOB AND HAVE FUN OUTSIDE YOUR MARRIAGE! IT'S HARD WORK, BUT IF YOU'RE LUCKY NO SLUTTIER GIRL WILL COME ALONG AND DO WHAT YOU DID TO HALEY!