The man who rolled “squeeze” and “breasts” chose me as the recipient of his attentions.
He pointed to me from across the room; I walked over, pulling my cami-top down over my breasts as I walked.
“Ohhhh she’s got nice big tits,” a male voice said from off to the side. There were murmurs of assent from around the room.
Cupping my tits in my hands, I presented them to the man, who pinched them thoroughly as my panties grew even wetter.
The turn passed to me. Back at my seat, I rolled “suck” and “above waist.” A sweet-faced redhead had just sat down in front of me with a plate of food. “Are you playing?” I asked her with a grin.
She handed her plate to the man next to her and loosened her halter top. I pushed it down to her waist, knelt between her knees, and sucked my first female nipple (pierced, no less) into my mouth.
So warm and soft, but it grew hard under my tongue instantly. I could have stayed there for an hour but the protocol of the game seemed to call for a speedier resolution to each turn. One final suck, one final tug of the nipple-ring with my teeth, and my turn was over.
But I was far from being done with the titties.
Later, as I re-entered the play-room after a bit of a break elsewhere (a break that didn’t involve much sitting still, if you catch my meaning), I was immediately pounced on. “Are you playing?” I was asked by a tiny blond woman. “I need breasts.”
I laughed and brought my girls out once again. “Yes! My breasts are playing.” She sat on my lap as we played. “Are you guys having fun?” I asked her after a moment. “Is your husband enjoying himself?”
She inclined her head to a point behind me. “He’s having a blast. He likes to watch.” I turned my head to look, and indeed her husband was having fun. He was half-reclined on a bed, rubbing his hand slowly over the bulge in his shorts as he watched me caress his wife’s tiny chest.
Since that night, all I’m seeing are breasts, breasts everywhere, and all I want to do is feel their warm soft heft in my palm and rub their silky nipples into hardness.
And I need to know: How do you men (and you breast-loving women *cough* Madame X *cough*) manage to keep your hands and your mouths off of all the breasts that float around you all day long?
How do you not think about breasts all day long?
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