Her Breasts
God.
There's a lovely sense of coyness yet underscored by a stunning potential. I don't know what makes me think that, now I come to think about it, but I really do; a sense of untapped, or latent, or perhaps even suppressed erotic potential about her.
I particularly remember one occasion when we bumped into each other and she just had on a light cotton summer dress, yellow. Her breasts were spectacular under that soft fabric. Full and round and so large - she has a full figure. The sunlight played across her form. We were in dappled shade and I wished the shadows of the twigs flitting across her curves were my finger tips. The buttons of her dress strained at the bust. I no longer get spontaneous erections but were I the 'self' of thirty years ago, there would have been ample straining in my crotch as I took her in, probably transparently obviously. I am just a boy after all.
Needless to say, I didn't do or say anything, shy boy that I am. (And married, small detail...) But the thought of her tortures me sometimes. Just the idea of giving in to the impulse, and just coming out with it... Oh fuck. Just imagining unbuttoning that dress and scooping those fine breasts out. I think I would ask her permission, or something lame like that. She'd just smile and say, "oh, go on then", let the boy have his fun... I imagine her being patient with me, indulging me. But then, quickly realising the seriousness of the situation as my hands and tongue went to work.
I imagine that she has large areolae and quite small nipples. Very pink. Perhaps the odd mole, dark and raised, sensitive in its way, lickable—perhaps under the breast so that to reveal it is to heft the fleshy weight first. White white skin. I also imagine that her breasts are really erogenous for her, again, not sure why, but I think she could be brought quite close to orgasm through breast play. And I have not even got on to imagining what her sex is like. But I will at some point.
Just standing behind her, reaching round and holding those full breasts in my hands, puling her back towards me, my chest at her back, my groin hot against the small of her back (she's shorter than me).
Anyhow, it is amazing how often she creeps into my thoughts. Now that the season is changing, we might run into each other again. It is always such a pleasure when we do. Swapping pleasantries, sometimes getting a little philosophical, chatting 'innocently' away, a definite meeting of minds,which makes it harder...but never quite a gathering-of-the-courage to really speak. The old fears. What have I got to lose? Yea right. She deserves better than a fleeting encounter with a married man. All the guilt too. So no, this will remain squarely in the realms of fantasy.
Still, what if by some miracle she were were to ask me...(a favourite fantasy.) That would be tough. Would I?
Anyhow, just bashing this in -- I will elaborate on it more fully at some point. This will be after all a place for me to put unbridled erotic fantasy. I wonder where it will go.
There's a lovely sense of coyness yet underscored by a stunning potential. I don't know what makes me think that, now I come to think about it, but I really do; a sense of untapped, or latent, or perhaps even suppressed erotic potential about her.
I particularly remember one occasion when we bumped into each other and she just had on a light cotton summer dress, yellow. Her breasts were spectacular under that soft fabric. Full and round and so large - she has a full figure. The sunlight played across her form. We were in dappled shade and I wished the shadows of the twigs flitting across her curves were my finger tips. The buttons of her dress strained at the bust. I no longer get spontaneous erections but were I the 'self' of thirty years ago, there would have been ample straining in my crotch as I took her in, probably transparently obviously. I am just a boy after all.
Needless to say, I didn't do or say anything, shy boy that I am. (And married, small detail...) But the thought of her tortures me sometimes. Just the idea of giving in to the impulse, and just coming out with it... Oh fuck. Just imagining unbuttoning that dress and scooping those fine breasts out. I think I would ask her permission, or something lame like that. She'd just smile and say, "oh, go on then", let the boy have his fun... I imagine her being patient with me, indulging me. But then, quickly realising the seriousness of the situation as my hands and tongue went to work.
I imagine that she has large areolae and quite small nipples. Very pink. Perhaps the odd mole, dark and raised, sensitive in its way, lickable—perhaps under the breast so that to reveal it is to heft the fleshy weight first. White white skin. I also imagine that her breasts are really erogenous for her, again, not sure why, but I think she could be brought quite close to orgasm through breast play. And I have not even got on to imagining what her sex is like. But I will at some point.
Just standing behind her, reaching round and holding those full breasts in my hands, puling her back towards me, my chest at her back, my groin hot against the small of her back (she's shorter than me).
Anyhow, it is amazing how often she creeps into my thoughts. Now that the season is changing, we might run into each other again. It is always such a pleasure when we do. Swapping pleasantries, sometimes getting a little philosophical, chatting 'innocently' away, a definite meeting of minds,which makes it harder...but never quite a gathering-of-the-courage to really speak. The old fears. What have I got to lose? Yea right. She deserves better than a fleeting encounter with a married man. All the guilt too. So no, this will remain squarely in the realms of fantasy.
Still, what if by some miracle she were were to ask me...(a favourite fantasy.) That would be tough. Would I?
Anyhow, just bashing this in -- I will elaborate on it more fully at some point. This will be after all a place for me to put unbridled erotic fantasy. I wonder where it will go.
2 年 前