A Monumental Opportunity

Sometimes the sights aren't made of stone...

A month before they left for another of their European trips, she asked if her friend could join them. "She and her husband are fighting again and she needs to get away for a while. Plus, she's my friend. Would you mind?"

He thought about it for a few moments. Her friend was smart but liked to act as dumb as a box of rocks, and was obsessed with holding on to her fast fading youth through plastic surgery. But she had two major positive aspects, one on the left and one on the right: She had the biggest tits he had ever seen live. Her husband, a physician, wanted to be married to someone who resembled a porn star, so he had paid for not one, but two boob jobs. Even when she was fully dressed you could tell they were each the size of a large cantaloupe and had to weigh at least five pounds apiece. She also wasn't too hard to look at, as her plastic surgeon was quite good at his job. He gave his assent.

"Of course she can come," he answered. "Let me see about bringing an extra guest and how much it will cost." He figured the worst case scenario would be that he would have two beautiful ladies to escort to dinner nightly.

A day later he had his answers. "Our hotels in London and Paris have rooms available that can accommodate three people, but no single rooms left. Shall we go with the triple rooms?"

"Does that mean she'll be staying in the room with us?"

"Yep, it does. I do sit around in my boxers when we're relaxing, and I sleep in them. You OK with that?"

"Of course," she said. "We're all adults, and it's nothing she hasn't seen before."

"I'll make the arrangements."

That was how they found themselves in close quarters for their three-week trip. From the beginning it was evident that there could be no serious accommodations for modesty; the beds were close together, the bathrooms were small, and it was hard enough to share the space without adding the need to keep every inch covered all the time.

He didn't make it a point to stare at her body, especially with his wife present all the time, but her tits really were gigantic. She didn't display them openly, but between her loose pajama tops and flimsy robes, there was little left to the imagination. His wife pretty much followed that pattern too since C was her good friend and they knew each other so well. For his part, he spent their down time in his boxers and slept in them as was his habit. He didn't have any problem with that -- he wasn't ashamed of his body, and couldn't stand wearing more than that for naps and overnight sleeping. At least he closed the bathroom door when showering.

They had been walking the streets of Paris for hours and the unseasonably warm weather had fatigued them and left them rather uncomfortable, so they had returned to the room to recover and freshen up. He had passed out on his bed, lying on his back on top of the covers, and his wife was curled up facing away from him, snoring lightly. Her friend wanted to shower the sweat and city grime off, and seeing them both sound asleep caused her to let down her guard a bit. Instead of slipping a robe over her bra and panties, she stripped completely down first in the main room, then grabbed her robe and fresh undies and carried them all to the bathroom.

One thing she hadn't learned about him was that he was very light sleeper. The slightest noise woke him, and just the sound of her getting off her bed had caused him to open his eyes, but close them immediately when he saw what she was doing. He cracked his lids slightly and kept his breathing slow and deep, a sure sign of sleep to anyone watching. Holy shit, he thought. Is she going to do what I think she's going to do? Sure enough, through the haze of his eyelashes he saw her drop her clothes on the bed, then unhook her bra and shrug it off. As if that wasn't exciting enough, he watched her hook her thumbs into her panties -- she wore pretty standard black bikini ones -- and yank them down, stepping out of them when they reached her ankles.

He thought his chest would explode and struggled to maintain the appearance of sleep. Alltheholysaints, they're huge! Indeed, when she bent over to drop her panties her melons hung straight down, seemingly to her knees. They were so distracting that he hadn't even noticed how her bending over had presented her pussy straight at him, right below the cheeks of her surprisingly fit and shapely ass. She's got enough for three women. No, four, he thought to himself. He watched her pad into the bathroom, and mused. That was sight to behold. I guess bringing her along wasn't such a bad idea.

The vision of her monstrous tits stuck with him as they continued their vacation. He couldn't help but smile as they walked the city streets, her globes half exposed in the low-cut tops she favored to display her assets. His wife had long ago accepted that her friend had her own view of what constituted proper clothing, so she had become inured to the constant presence of cleavage that seemed to be visible from outer space. As the day ended, they stopped at a small market for several bottles of wine, a couple of baguettes, and some fresh fruit and good cheese to take back to the hotel room.

Two hours later they were all feeling pretty good. The view from their room was fantastic, and they were arrayed in chairs facing them as the sun set. They had already polished off almost three bottles of wine, and their remaining inhibitions were quickly fading. There was much laughter, and the humor had taken on a decidedly sexual tone. The girls had shed their bras and were wearing thin robes over their underwear, and as usual he was lounging in boxers and a tee shirt.

His wife's tongue had been loosened by the wine, and she asked a question that had nagged at her for years. Nodding toward her friend's chest, she said, "How can you stand hauling around those things all the time? Your back must hurt something awful." She had a nice rack herself, but one of more normal proportions.

"With these things? Oh hell yes," came C's reply. "They weigh over five pounds each." With that, she grabbed the edges of her robe and pulled it open, presenting her oversized mounds fully to them. "I did it for him, but I've regretted it ever since. It's like I'm nothing but a pair of walking, talking boobs." His breath froze in his chest.

His wife playfully put her hand over his eyes, but C continued, "Oh stop, he's seen tits before. We're all adults here."

Her globes were indeed wondrous. The skin had been stretched to its absolute limit, thin enough to see the network of blue veins right under it. The nipples were as flat as the rest of the boob, and pushing them so far had drained them of most of their color. But he had to admit that there was something fascinating about being face to face with such outsized funbags.

The last shreds of her inhibitions had apparently disappeared. "The bastard likes to titty fuck me too, when he's not banging me from behind to make them swing back and forth. What an asshole I married."

"C!" his wife cried out before collapsing into gales of laughter. "I can't believe you just said that! You hussy!"

"Well, it's true!" she replied. "I like sex, but I might as well be a blow up sex doll to him. That's about how he treats me. And it's not like you don't do that for him," she said, nodding toward T. She had released her robe and sat back, but her tits remained in full view.

"I don't," came his wife's reply. "That's gross!"

"Oh child, you have a lot to learn," C answered. "Men love tits, they love everything about tits, and if you use yours right you'll have him wrapped around your little finger." She looked straight at him, and through their alcohol-induced haze asked, "Am I right, or am I right?"

OK, buddy, come up with something, and soon, he thought. The alcohol had slowed his thought processes though, and all he could do was croak out, "Well..." Even in his drunken stupor, he had to admit she was right. Bu this was potentially a lose/lose situation for him -- no matter how he answered, he was likely to piss someone off.

"Oh, stop it," she continued. "You guys always think with your little head and you know it."

His sotted wife nodded her agreement. "He is a horny bastard, yes," she replied. "When do they outgrow it?"

"They don't," her friend answered. "I mean, look at his shorts," she said, nodding toward his crotch. "That lump wasn't there when we started drinking, but as soon as my tits came out, he reacted."

His wife was suddenly serious and she glared at him. "What? Really? You want to fuck HER?"

This was getting potentially worse for him, and he knew it. He spoke slowly and chose his words very carefully. "Don't put words in my mouth. I want to fuck YOU, but I'm sitting here in my underwear, drunk on my ass, with two beautiful drunk women who are wearing next to nothing, the biggest tits I've ever seen on full display are six feet from my face, and we're talking about sex. What did you expect?"

"Hmph," she replied. "You always have a way of talking yourself out of trouble." She crossed her arms over her chest and assumed a mock pout.

"Oh, calm down," C said. "He's just being a man, and you know he loves you. Actually, I'm jealous of you."

"Jealous? Of me? You're the one with the great body."

"No, I'm the one with the big tits and the asshole for a husband," she answered. "I'd love to have a husband like yours. He adores you." He hid his embarrassment at that comment by pouring and drinking more wine although he was already wasted. He also refilled their glasses. She asked, "Can I assume there are other things you don't do for him either?"

Uh-oh. "Like what?" his wife asked.

"Don't play innocent," she giggled. "Do you go down on him?" His wife responded with the universal sign for self-induced vomiting - her finger pointed into her open mouth. "Yeah, that's the idea," C pointed out, laughing.

"That grosses me out," came his wife's reply. "He pees out of that thing."

"Not while he's fucking you," C explained. "And I've been living with you two for a week. I know he keeps himself clean." She looked at him and winked. "Maybe what you need is some personalized instruction." His wife just stared at her drunkenly. C continued, "All right then, I'm going to show you how to keep your man wrapped around your little finger." With that, she stood up and dropped her robe completely, then walked to him and knelt between his feet wearing nothing but her bikini panties. Oh man, I have a feeling something really good is about to happen, he thought. All her could see was her boobs.

"Men don't all these funbags for nothing," she said, slightly lifting her tits and jiggling them. "Besides your pussy and your mouth, they're the best tools you have." With that, she reached into the fly of his boxers and wrestled his erect shaft out, holding it upright. "Holy shit," she said to his wife. "This is what you have for yourself? You lucky girl. Come down here next to me." In her drunkenness, his wife obeyed without a word and knelt next to his leg. Her own robe was completely open. She didn't seem the least bothered by another woman holding her husband's cock.

"For starters, you need to know how this thing works," C instructed. "This area is the most sensitive when he's hard," she said, indicating the section right below the head, "and when this turns red, he's ready to cum," she continued, pointing to the head itself. This is amazing, he thought. Two beautiful topless women handling and discussing my dick like I'm a science project. Enjoy it while you can, son. He took another swallow of wine.

"You don't want to grip it too tight," C's lesson went on. "Gentle goes a long way. Sometimes I use just my fingertips. Here, you try it." She relinquished her hold on his shaft so his wife could show what she'd learned. "That's it. And keep your hand moving slowly like that. See? You do know what to do," she giggled.

She moved forward until her tits rested against his thighs. "OK, let's move along. These things can be as good as your pussy around his cock if you know how to use them," she said, indicating her boobs. "But since they don't have muscles to move them, you need to help things a bit." With that, she moved forward a bit more and used her hands to guide her superb melons around his erection. It was now completely surrounded by those gigantic mammaries, the head barely visible in the cleavage between them. She began to slowly move her tits up and down his shaft; it indeed felt like a pussy without the lubrication. "See what I mean? Men love this. Now you try it."

He wife's own breasts were more than adequate for the task, but between her inexperience and her drunkenness, she struggled to get it all together, and went through another giggling fit. "I think I need your boobs for this," she laughed.

"Nonsense. Here, let me help you." She showed her how to gently push them around the shaft. "You don't need a tight fit. The slightest friction on his cock will do the trick." His wife looked up at him and smiled. "You're loving this, aren't you? Bastard," she said playfully.

Oh sure, he thought. Two gorgeous naked women titty fucking me in Paris is just so mundane. "Um, yeah, I must say it does seem a rather pleasant way to spend an evening," he drunkenly said in deliberate understatement. She kept her eyes on his while gently moving her breasts up and down his erect shaft. A naughty glint came to her eyes and she smiled.

"OK, it's time for lesson number two," C said with a smile, "I'm going to teach you where jewelry comes from." With that, she gently moved his wife back to the side and took her place between his knees, her gigantic rack resting against his thighs. "This is the age old secret for getting a man to do whatever you want. Believe me, a good blowjob literally gets you anything you want, ANYTHING." She looked at him and gave an evil grin. "Am I wrong?" she asked. Oh no, he thought, you're spot on with that one. By all means, proceed.

She continued. "A good blowjob doesn't mean just sticking it in your mouth and moving up and down, although a lot of guys are satisfied with that. No, a really great BJ is a work of art, and it means you're making love to his dick. It's probably the most intimate thing you can do with a man. Let's start with how you hold it." She used one hand to grasp his cock at its base, holding it straight up. "Start by stroking gently, how I showed you before. When he's hard it's really sensitive to the slightest touch. Move your hand like this, from the base then all the way up over the head. Slowly." She demonstrated. "Here's where the real art comes in. We're going to make love to every inch of it." She opened her grip slightly to cup the shaft, and holding it slightly canted toward his head, she turned her own head and used her tongue to lick it with infinite slowness form the base to the head and back. She repeated the motion, but ran her tongue around the head once before working her way back down. He gasped.

"I can't get past the idea," his wife said. "It has to taste gross."

"It tastes like the rest of him," C told her. "Everyone has a unique flavor, and his cock tastes the same as his chest or neck." She returned to licking the shaft like a pro, then stopped and said, "Here, you try it. Just run your tongue up the bottom of it like I just did." His wife leaned over and cautiously extended her tongue until it barely touched his member. She recoiled immediately, but tried again and managed to give one long, tempting lick. "You're right," she said. "It's not at all like I thought it would be."

"I told you. Another thing to remember is that this is your man, the person you know better than anyone in the world, and who adores you and wants to fuck you silly. You're not sucking his dick, you're making love to him. Let's get to the good part now." She went back to licking the length of his now rock-hard member, then kept stroking while continuing her narrative. "Let's face it - the part they really like is when they're in your mouth. It's warm, it's wet, and your soft lips around him make it all feel like a pussy, a pussy with a tongue. Watch how I do this."

She again licked the underside of his Johnson, but this time when she reached the top she closed her grip around the base as her lips slowly enclosed the head and lingered there for a few seconds, her tongue flicking the tip of the head. Slowly but surely she took more and more of it into her mouth until her lips met her hand, then moved her head back toward the head with her hand following. He was in awe of her cocksucking abilities and struggled to keep his composure. Lost in her drunken stupor, his wife was fascinated by the sight of another woman's mouth wrapped around her husband's cock.

She continued to move up and down, slightly quickening her pace with each stroke. He moaned with pleasure and closed his eyes so he could focus on the sensation, and his quickened breathing was a sign of his impending explosion. She took him out of her mouth for a few seconds, just long enough to give further instruction. "He's close to cumming, but swallowing is a whole other lesson and takes practice and real commitment. Let me finish this." With that, she began vigorously sucking him, her mouth moving ever faster up and down, her hand making extra friction, her boobs against his legs providing a fine counterpoint to her ministrations. He laid his head back, and grasping her head with his hands, let out a deep grunt and felt his balls spasm as he released his load into her waiting mouth. Her mouth filled as he kept her head on him until she felt his spasms subside a bit, a bit of his goo even running out of her mouth and down his shaft.

She finally lifted her mouth from him, and in an instant put her hand behind his wife's head and without warning pulled their faces together and locked lips with her. She let his hot man juice run into his wife's mouth, and used her tongue to push it around and explore the inside of her mouth. His wife, surprised but drunkenly compliant, responded amorously and returned the kiss, marveling at the salty taste of his cum. This isn't so bad, she thought, I should have done this before. My man, your life just changed for the better. And I'm liking this girl kiss thing a lot. Their lips parted and they all stared at each other for a moment before all three of them collapsed into uproarious laughter.

There were changes after that, some big and some small. The three of them spent that night in the same bed, curled up in various configurations. There was no sex that night, but the girls wore only their panties and he was surrounded by tits no matter which way he turned. The girls had also discovered how close they really could be, and on subsequent days he returned more than once from his solo early morning walks to find them wrapped in each other's arms in bed.

Any nods to modesty flew out the window; there just was no point any more. Her monumental tits were on frequent display, and they learned that like many women in their late 40s, she trimmed her pubes to a narrow strip. They all went to and from the shower in the nude and changed clothes in the same area at the same time. They even discussed the nature of her extreme boob job and learned a few things: Her fake tits were indeed heavy enough to cause back problems, and had lost much of their sensitivity because of all the added silicone. Her husband may have liked them, but to her they were a burden.

With these two people she had found that one could be loved for more than one's body, as they genuinely liked her and enjoyed her company. She frequently joined them in bed, if only for the comfort of being in the arms of people she cared about. They felt the same way and welcomed her. There was no jealousy -- his wife knew where his heart was, and in any case she had formed a new relationship of her own with C that brought her great pleasure. That first girl kiss has grown into other activities, and more than once he had come out of the shower to find one of them going down on the other.