|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Intellectual Masturbation ....lactations
Intellectual Masturbation
" -- Professor Veeblefetzer might like to say a few words on this wonderful occasion. Professor?" Uh-oh, that was me. I grabbed the table and lurched to my feet.
"Uh, yeah," I said. "How y'all doing tonight? It's a great honor," yadda-yadda-yadda. All those people dressed up like respectable citizens, like they weren't sloshed out of their minds, like they weren't dying to get home and get their ashes hauled.
"On behalf of my son Robert --" I said, "You know, kids are the greatest. Look at that beautiful boy." Everyone looked at 16-year-old Robert. "You know, being the new chairman of the Department of Philosophy, it takes me back to the time of Socrates, Aristotle, Plato, all them other people." Somebody giggled, but I was on a roll now. "Anyway. How could you not love a boy like that? The Greeks knew all about that. Socrates, he had his own butt-boy. It's only in the Judeo-Christian tradition that we consider it morally wrong to --"
"Daddy! Please!" My daughter Holly, standing to my right, was tugging on my sleeve. I pulled her down onto my lap.
"Aw, honey," I said. "Don't be jealous of Robert. I was gonna say something nice about you, too." My hand was on her breast. I spread my fingers out over it and felt her nipple harden in the palm of my hand.
"And what I was gonna say," I shouted as she jumped up, "is, 'All fathers are in love with their daughters.' That's a quote from James M. Cain. What higher tribute is there than to put her on a pedestal so you can look up her --"
I think my wife hustled me out of there then. I'm pretty sure Dr. Krbopl got back up and told everybody I was indisposed or something. I remember vomiting as soon as I got home, and Shirley tucking me into bed, and crazy insane dreams of having sex with both of my children.
The next morning I woke up with a terrific hangover. Shirley was gone for the day, but she'd left a note for me on the nightstand. "CHARLES! Worried about Rx -- Please call Dr. Wilson ASAP! Love, S." Moaning and groaning, I went into the bathroom. As badly as my head hurt, I still remembered the embarrassing events at dinner. Even more clearly, I remembered the dreams I'd had.
Oh, God, I thought, Shirley's right. I went to the kitchen for coffee. Dr. Wilson's office said he'd be able to see me for a few minutes in the afternoon. I tried to figure out if I felt well enough to drive there. It was only 10:30 now. Robert wouldn't be home until after the game tonight, which was good, because I had no idea what I could say to him after last night. I'd given Shirley grounds for an uncontested divorce on the grounds of public humiliation, but she seemed more worried than anything else. I guess she loved me.
Which left my 19-year-old daughter Holly, who should be home in about two hours. If she was still speaking to me, I would ask her, very politely, to drive her poor old dad to the doctor's office. I had some time to kill, so I settled down in my study to do a bit of reading.
"Hi, Daddy," Holly said from the doorway. Her tone of voice was completely normal. "Shirley says you need to go to the doctor?"
"Yes," I said, thankful that she wasn't yelling. I still had a slight headache. "Yeah. Can you take me?"
"Sure," she said. "Just let me change my clothes. I'll be right back."
But when Holly came back, the only thing different about her was that she'd taken off her bra.
I put on my sunglasses and followed Holly out to the car. She was wearing a low-cut T-shirt tucked into jeans that hugged her butt. Last night I'd dreamed about taking her from behind. All the way to the doctor's office I stole glances at her breasts. They'd only gotten really big in the last couple of years. Today, braless, they were enormous. I looked at her right nipple pointing downwards from the weight. Just last night, she'd stroked the palm of my hand with it.
"I'm sorry about last night," I lied.
"It's all right, Daddy. I know you love me."
Dr. Wilson thought I'd be okay on my medication as long as I made sure not to drink alcohol. "No problem," I assured him. His eyes lingered on Holly's tits a little too long, but all he said was, "See you next month." I didn't tell him Holly was my daughter. The way she looked, he probably thought she was my wife, and we were getting ready to go home and fuck.
My headache was better now, and with all that coffee I was wide awake. I liked the new medication I was on. It made my life so ... interesting. So what if I wouldn't be able to drink? I had a new hobby now, which was the intellectual exploration of the origins of my sexual attraction to both of my children, Holly especially.
Now, I had known plenty of women with big breasts, and even slept with a few. And besides, I could see all the nipples I wanted right in class. So what was so special about my daughter? Or was it just because Holly was my daughter that I burned so hot for her? She reminded me a little bit of her mother, my first wife, but that didn't completely explain it. No, I had read enough psychobabble in my lifetime to realize it was because my daughter's body was so much like my mother's had been, at the time I first became consciously sexually aware.
I was the oldest of four children. My mother breast-fed all of us, and her tits got bigger with each baby. Until age 10 or 11, I would see her with her blouse open, with the smallest baby frantically sucking on one nipple, wiping droplets of milk from the other. A bra would only have gotten in the way. Sometimes my father would watch her with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and say, "Jesus God, those tits are incredible."
And what about Robert? Hey, I'm not a college professor for nothing. Physically, at least, Robert was the image of me at the same age. I didn't presume to know what he did with his time. In fact, I suspected he might turn out gay, although I didn't think he knew that himself, not yet.
Holly pulled into the supermarket parking lot. "I've got to get some milk," she said.
I couldn't help it. I started laughing......cont
A Substitue Teacher's Dilemma
"Now, you all know we have an essay test today. I'm going to pass out the papers now, but don't look at them just yet." There was one empty chair. As I walked up and down the rows I looked down everyone's blouse. Cleavage galore, and if any of these girls wore bras I'd be surprised. I was peeking down a girl's blouse at an especially nice pair of tits as I placed the last test paper on the one empty desk. Then I felt two nipples stroking the inside of my arm as the last student sat down. Dear God in heaven, don't let my dick get hard now, I prayed. I closed my eyes just for a second.
She hadn't seen me either, and mumbled that she was sorry. I wasn't sorry at all. She had brown hair that fell to her waist, blue eyes, and was very slender except for really big breasts. And her nipples were covered by just one layer of clingy cotton knit.
I figured I'd better get back to my desk while I still could. I'd have close to an hour to kill while the class took the exam. Nobody would know if I played with myself under my desk. I opened the newspaper, which was full of terrible news about the economy. After a few minutes I looked up. The blonde in the first row was wearing a jeweled pendant on a long chain, and she tucked it between her breasts and leaned over to work on her paper. Her tube top slipped down to her areolae, but the pendant stayed where it was. I began to fantasize about tit-fucking with her. I turned the page to a boring political column, and very soon my thoughts turned to the girl whose nipples had brushed my arm.
She had her breasts spread out all over her small student's desk as she worked. Her fingers were playing with her left nipple. The right one was already sticking out like a pencil eraser. Then she looked up and saw me watching her. She must have been embarrassed, because she pushed her tits off the desk, covered her eyes with her hand, and continued writing her paper.
There were 22 girls in the class. I counted 17 C-cup or above, but as I said, none of these girls seemed to be wearing bras. The two-minute warning bell rang. I said, "Leave your papers on your desks, everyone. I'll see you tomorrow." My dick was hard now; I didn't dare stand up. The girl who had been last to arrive was the last to leave. My God, I thought, her tits will be down around her waist before she's 30.
I had two more morning classes, then lunch. I was debating between the overcooked macaroni and cheese or the mystery meat loaf when I felt something familiar brushing against the small of my back. For as long as I thought I could get away with it, I stood completely still and so did she. When I turned around, she apologized again, and said somebody had pushed her although no one else was in line. "Hey," I said, "Nothing to be sorry about. Why don't you join me?" But she was joining some friends, who were waving at her that they'd saved her a spot. I sat down where I could get a nice side view of her huge tits on the lunch table.
After school I caught the subway home. The station was crowded like it was every single day. I thought how fine it would be if she came running to catch the same train I was on, her breasts bouncing everywhere. She probably wouldn't be able to get a seat, and would have to stand up with her nipples rubbing against someone else's back. That would be fun to watch, anyway.
But, of course, it didn't happen. I got off at West 4th
Street and went home to my boyfriend Chris, and when he did me that
night I fantasized about being with a woman .....the end
Big Breasted Teenagers
"Put your glasses on, Mom," she said crossly. This was of course my daughter Sasha, whom I hadn't seen since Christmas. She hugged me hello. I absolutely could not believe the size of her breasts. She was only 15 years old. "You like my hair? I got a permanent."
"Yeah, it's real nice," I said. Together we picked up the humongous suitcase and I stole another peek down her cleavage. We chatted on the way home about this and that. The air conditioning was running full blast and my nipples got hard too. I could even see the outlines of her areolae. When I could stand it no longer, I said, "But what the hell happened?"
"Oh, you mean my tits? Are they bothering you?" She grinned wickedly.
"I hope there's a drive-thru Burger King between here and home," I muttered. "I can't get out of the car with you looking like that."
"Well, what am I supposed to do? I outgrew all of my bras." "Fine," I snapped. "You can try one of mine on when we get home. We're going bra shopping tomorrow."
"Yeah. Like I'd be able to fit into one of yours," Sasha sniffed. She picked up the car phone and started dialing her friends. When we got home she tried on one of my strapless bras, size 36DD, but it was too small. She put on another T-shirt, as thin as a handkerchief, and pulled it down over her big brown nipples. "I'm going out, Mom," she said. I was too tired to argue with her about her wardrobe. I planned to veg out in front of the TV. I did, and a few hours later I was awakened by the sound of water splashing. I got off the couch and looked out the back window at my swimming pool. There was a full moon that night. After a few moments I saw Sasha emerge from the water, in a T-shirt and bikini underpants.
She went to the diving board and stood there hesitating. But
I knew better than to miss an opportunity like this. I had just seen
Sasha topless that afternoon and she was spectacular. During those
few seconds, I grabbed my former husband's 35 mm camera and took
Sasha's picture. The moonlight glinted from her wet breasts. I had
plenty of film, so I took another shot. She turned toward the light,
and I got a view of her huge hard nipples in profile. I shot again.
She peeled her wet t-shirt off, and I pressed the button as she raised
her arms over her head, lifting her naked breasts. I shot again as
she dove into the water, and three more times as she got out of the
pool and walked toward the house. Droplets of water ran between her
lovely big tits, which swayed back and forth as she walked. I ran
back to the couch, shoving the camera under a cushion, and pretended
to be asleep when Sasha walked, topless and dripping wet, through the
living room.......(cont)
.
|
A MrDouble Production: mrdouble Changes last made on: Saturday Jan 31, 1998 |
|
|
|---|---|---|---|
| Copyright © 1998, Mr Double, ALL Rights Reserved | |||
| Stories appearing on this page | |||
| Copyright © 1998, Terry_1370 , ALL Rights Reserved |