Covet Thy Neighbor's New Tits

I am a successful businessman, a partner in a large consulting firm. Unfortunately, where I was blessed with a sharp mind and good business sense, my physical appearance is lacking. I am a stereotypical business nerd. At thirty-seven I am prematurely balding, slightly overweight no matter how much I work out, and reliant on a set of coke bottle thick glasses.

Married to my job, I have led a sheltered sex life. Twelve-hour days at the office leave little time for dating, and a hot night for me is a bottle of wine and a few hours of surfing porn on the Internet.

I do enjoy outdoor activities; gardening in my yard, fishing, motocross, and tennis. It was a result of these activities that I became good friends with my next-door neighbors in Wichita, Scott and Allison Snow. We lived in an upscale neighborhood on a quite cul-de-sac. I owned a sweet bass boat and Scott often joined me for Saturday morning trips to the local lakes. Allison wasn’t much of a fisher, but she would tag along and lay in the sun while Scott and I caught dinner. On many a hot Kansas afternoon, ogling Allison’s bikini clad body was more fun than fishing.

Visions of her long, lithe body, barely covered by the Lycra of her string bikini stoked many a late night jerk-off session.

The Snow’s had met at the University of Kansas, where he played college football and she was a Jayhawk cheerleader and volleyball player. They were your typical all-American couple; great looking, athletic, and successful.

Though Allison didn’t care for fishing, she was an avid tennis player. Scott thought tennis was a ‘sissy’ sport, so I often joined her at the club to play a few sets. We even teamed in mixed doubles for several club tournaments. Scott clearly was not threatened by the nerdy consultant next door spending time with his knockout wife. I wasn’t a threat, besides we were all good friends.

Allison was in her early thirties, a perpetual tan from lounging around the couple’s pool. She spent several nights a week in aerobics classes at the club, even teaching a spinning class. She was tall, maybe 5’10” and towered over me in a pair of heels. She had long blonde hair and the most gorgeous deep blue eyes. Unlike most southern girls, she wore almost no make-up and was still the prettiest woman in the room.

As Scott had often confided, her only setback was her flat chest. He joked that in college she used to wear a padded bra, and it was her fake tits that had made him originally take notice of her. The first few times they had done the deed, she insisted on lights-out before she would strip. Only after Scott had become addicted to her sweet pussy, did she confess that her ‘public’ tits were the figment of a water-filled bra.

I once asked, “Couldn’t you tell in the dark that her tits were smaller when she took off her clothes?”

In typical Scott fashion, he responded, “Tits are for show, Wayne. When we were getting down to business, my dick was either in her mouth or her pussy. Foreplay for me was the cash I spent on flowers and a fancy dinner.”

Scott was your typical ex-jock. A strapping middle linebacker in college, he stayed in shape playing hoops and lifting weights. He flirted openly with women, although I never saw him actually consummate a deal. The couple often joined me in my backyard hot tub, and Scott packed an awesome punch in his wet bathing suit. A time or two I had caught sideways glances of his exposed dick as he pissed off the side of the boat, draining his lizard after a few too many brews. He was very well endowed and I often observed Allison’s dreamy gaze glued to his package, a look of lust and longing in her bright eyes.

After a few beers around the pool one night, Scott confided that he was planning to give Allison a tit job for Christmas. She would have the big jugs she always craved and he would have his trophy wife.

I had to admit, next summer’s fishing trips would be that much sweeter.

Unfortunately, around Thanksgiving, my firm transferred me to San Francisco. We said our goodbyes and Allison mentioned that she would be in San Francisco in the spring for a fashion show. She was a buyer for a big retail chain and traveled a lot with her work. We made plans to meet for dinner and I promised to show her the town.

Scott, in his usual crass manner joked, “And she can show you her new sweater meats.”

I blushed and Allison whacked Scott on the arm, “You’re such a pig!”

Several months passed before I received a call from Allison, “I’ll be in SF on Friday. Let’s meet for dinner before I have to fly to Los Angeles on Saturday for another show.”

I had a healthy jack-off that night, thinking about seeing Allison and her new tits. I couldn’t wait until Friday.

She was staying at the swank Hotel W across from the Museum of Modern Art. We agreed to meet in the lobby bar for a drink after work before hitting the town.

I arrived early and ordered a martini to sooth my nerves, positioning myself at the bar so I could watch for Allison’s arrival. The place was full of A-class talent, all way out of my league but great eye candy.

Every head in the place turned to watch Allison as she walked through the door. She wore a tailored navy pinstripe business suit, the jacket low-cut in the front revealing a lacy undergarment barely concealing her new cleavage. The suit’s short skirt almost covered her tight ass, her long stocking-clad legs sitting atop a pair of 4-inch heels. Her hair was down and a look of renewed confidence shone in her face, her posture tall and proud as her new tits steered her toward the bar. She owned the room, and she new it. Allison was never shy, but her new and improved breasts had instilled a sense of invincibility in her persona, and she walked into the bar like she owned the place.

“Oh Wayne, it’s so good to see you,” she smiled, hugging me tightly, her new rack pressed against my chest. I was in heaven. All the men in the bar stared in envy as Allison pulled up a barstool next to me and ordered a drink.

“You look great, Wayne, have you been working out?” she asked. Her physical appearance revamped, she was still the sweet Kansas girl her parents had raised.

“Some,” I answered. “Just trying to stay in shape. I’ve gotten into mountain biking and my posterior has firmed up considerably.”

“Nothing like a hard set of buns,” she giggled, slapping my butt a playful swat.

We chatted for an hour, downing a couple of drinks, getting reacquainted and enjoying each other’s company. While I had a tough time keeping my eyes off her cleavage, wondering how those magnificent new boobs would look in one of her skimpy bikinis, we never mentioned her surgery or her tits. I guess it’s just not something two adult professionals work into a conversation.

We grabbed a cab and headed to North Beach for dinner at a little neighborhood Italian restaurant. After a couple of bottles of red wine and a fine meal, we were feeling no pain. After staring at Allison’s new rack for several hours, the only thing I was feeling was a rush of blood to my pecker.

As we emerged from the restaurant, Allison implored, “I need to find a souvenir for Scott, any ideas?”

It was getting late and all the tourist shops were closed. “We can walk through North Beach and head for Broadway,” I suggested. “Maybe something will be open down there.” Yea, all the sex shops I thought. Maybe she could get Scott a leather thong or a new cock ring.

To my surprise, the first sex shop we came too Allison said, “Let’s try in here.” I didn’t know if it was all the booze talking or just Allison’s renewed adventurous spirit, but what the hell.

We browsed the magazines and DVDs, Allison with a clinical inquisitiveness, me trying to keep my semi-erect penis hidden from her view. Television screens played endless loops of various sex scenes; orgies, interracial, gangbangs, lesbian, gay, bisexual. Allison would watch a scene briefly before turning her attention back to the shelves, filling her basket with odds and ends. What is it about women and shopping?

“So do you have any gonzo tapes with Briana Banks?” she asked the clerk.

“Right over there ma’am,” he responded.

Turning to me, Allison explained, “Scott loves Briana Banks.”

Well who fucking doesn’t, I thought to myself.

This was a new side of the Snow's with which I wasn’t familiar. “So you and Scott are into porn?” I asked.

“It’s one of the few hobbies we share,” Allison answered, matter-of-factly.

As Allison perused the Briana Banks’ section, my attention was drawn to a bisexual video playing on one of the televisions. A big-dicked stud was plowing an older guy’s ass, while a hot babe squatted on the twink’s face. The hottie had big, firm tits and the ass-fucker was enjoying playing with her erect nipples while he throttled the poor guy’s shitter. The twink had an average dick, but the chick was paying him special attention, jerking his tool as his ass was being deeply abused.

“Did you find something you like?” Allison asked, yanking my attention from the video screen, a funny gleam in her eyes.

“Just looking,” I said, absently picking up a big rubber dildo from the shelf under the TV screen.

“I like that one too,” Allison purred, taking the dildo from me.

It was probably 9 inches long, chocolate black and thick as a beer can, deeply veined with a realistic sack of balls. I was embarrassed to have picked the phallic toy, my face blushing bright red.

“It’s a remarkable likeness of Scott,” she sighed, “except for the color of course.”

Damn, I knew Scott had a big wanker, but I had no idea he was that well endowed. I didn’t know how to respond.

“Maybe I’ll get it,” Allison continued, “I’m traveling for several more days before going home. This could come in handy.” She winked wickedly at me before turning to another shelf of lubes and lotions.

I wandered over to the magazine rack and perused several of the skin mags while Allison finished her shopping. I love porn but I was too embarrassed to buy anything in front of her.

As we left the shop, I noticed from the size of her stuffed bag, Allison felt no such shame.

“That was fun,” she exclaimed. “The sex shops in Wichita aren’t nearly so exotic.”

As the cab pulled up in front of her hotel, I was saddened to think my time with Allison was coming to an end.

“You want to grab a nightcap in the bar?” she asked.

I didn’t need any more alcohol, but I jumped at the opportunity. I was hoping to at least get a hug goodbye, getting my cheap jollies where I could.

Unfortunately the bar was closed, but Allison had a solution, “Why don’t you come up to my room? The mini bar is stocked and I want to get out of this stuffy suit.”

As she closed the door to her room, I opened the mini bar and poured us each a drink. Turning back to Allison, I was floored by the view. She had removed her suit jacket, her lacy camisole the only garment of clothing between her proud tits and my wanting eyes.

“Wayne, you didn’t say anything about my new boobies,” Allison cooed, massaging her mammoth mounds through the thin material, tweaking her nipples to arousal. “Don’t you like them?”

“Uhhh…well…ummmm,” I stuttered, unable to regain my self-composure.

“You’re so cute,” she teased. “I’ve watched you drooling over these new puppies all night. But you are too polite to say anything. Scott wouldn’t have lasted five minutes before asking if he could see or touch them.”

“They are spectacular, Allison,” I croaked, trying to salvage the situation. “Your doctor did a magnificent job.”

“Thanks, Wayne,” she answered proudly. “I’m going to slip into something more comfortable. Make yourself at home.”

She disappeared into the bathroom with her bag full of porn goodies and I absently flicked on the TV before grabbing my drink and gazing out the window at the spectacular San Francisco skyline. Where was this going, I wondered? Was she coming on to me or was she just a little drunk and brazenly showing off her new rack. Scott would kill me if I made a pass at his wife, but the booze was swirling in my mind, significantly altering my decision-making ability.

“What are you watching, Wayne?” Allison queried, emerging from the bathroom wrapped in a big terrycloth robe. As she motioned toward the TV screen, I embarrassedly noticed a skin flick was playing.

“Wow,” I stammered, “I didn’t realize….”

“Do you like her big tits?” Allison cut me off, mid-sentence, as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“They are OK,” I answered.

“You want to see some really nice tits?” she continued, as she ran her hand sexily down the front of her loosely tied robe.

My mind was spinning and my knees went weak. What the fuck was I gonna do?

“You don’t have to answer, Wayne,” Allison giggled, “The tent in your slacks gives you away.” She slowly pulled her robe open, revealing more of her incredible cleavage, her hand disappearing inside the robe to massage her firm tits.

Worried this was getting out of control, I tried a different approach, “What about Scott?”

“Scott’s not here, Wayne,” she answered sharply. “Besides, would you rather see his big cock or my new tits?”

Her comment caught me off guard. She had misunderstood my concerns. But fleeting images of Scott’s big piss stick flashed in my head. I wondered, was his dick really as big as that dildo at the porn shop?

I’m not gay, although I do admit large cocks really turn me on. Whether in pornos or stag magazines, watching a big, thick dick plow a hot piece of pussy never fails to flip my switch. Maybe its just envy, wishing my average little dick could drive women wild like those porn stars.

Before I could answer Allison’s inexplicably perplexing question, she answered it for me. Standing up, she untied her robe, flashing it open to reveal her beautiful body.

“Lucky for you, you don’t have to choose,” she exhaled, that wicked gleam returning to her bright eyes.

I was in shock; her boobs were truly spectacular, perfect round globes, floating above her well-toned tummy, standing proud and begging for attention. But the most shocking aspect of her nude body was the long, thick, black cock dangling between her legs, strapped on by a thick leather belt.

My jaw dropped open, my hand drawn to my throbbing boner, my eyes not believing the incredibly sexy sight of Allison’s nude body.

She reached down to stroke her dangling dildo in her dainty hand, “I saw you watching that bisexual video in the porn store. And the lust in your eyes when I told you this dildo looked like Scott’s prick; I thought you were going to shoot a load right then and there. I had to buy it and I found the harness while you were thumbing through the magazines. I hope you like it.”

“You look beautiful,” I stammered, truly entranced by her naked body.

“I have noticed your infatuation with Scott’s package,” she continued. “And I don’t blame you; it is impressive. But until tonight, I didn’t know how badly you wanted it.”

“I’m not gay,” I defended myself, “In fact, I have never had any kind of homosexual experience.”

“It’s OK Wayne. I understand the hypnotic draw of a big fat cock. It’s mesmerizing. And trust me, it can please you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

She continued to stroke her rubber dick, spitting a fat loogie on the knob, nastily lubing the long tool.

“Why don’t you strip for me,” she giggled. “Show me how those workouts are toning your body. I want to see your firm butt cheeks.”

Unable to resist her power, I quickly undressed, leaving only my briefs to cover my pathetic little boner.

“Not bad, Wayne,” she stated. “Rip those tighties off and show me yours. I’ve shown you mine; or should I say I’ve shown you Scott’s.”

Removing my underwear, I stood completely nude in front of this incredible goddess. I needed her to take control, to use me. I wanted to succumb completely to this fantasy come true.

“Cute. You’re just a little teddy bear. Now crawl over here and kiss my big dick,” she ordered.

I obediently dropped to my hands and knees, following her command. As I reached out to grasp her toy phallus, she harshly slapped me across the face with the spit-lubed dildo.

“Beg for it,” she ordered. “Do a good job and I will let you play with my new boobs.”

I was so fucking aroused. Between her gorgeous tits and Scott’s replica penis, it was like Christmas morning.

“Please, Allison…” I started.

Slap! Slap! “When you suck my dick, call me Scott,” she ordered. “Tell Scott how you want to suck his big cock.”

“OK,” I answered tentatively. “Can I suck your big cock, Scott?”

“That’s weak you little faggot,” Allison shouted, again slapping my face with her fake dick.

Digging deep, I tried again. “I want you to fuck my face with your big stud cock, Scott. Make me your bitch and train me to throat your monster.”

“Better,” Allison coached, “much better,” as she lightly tapped the rubber cockhead against my outstretched tongue.

Getting into it I begged, “I’ve wanted to touch your dick for years. I have always envied your beautiful wife’s unlimited access to your giant tonsil tickler.”

Allison began to thrust her hips forward, forcing the head of the big rubber penis into my mouth. I licked the plum sized head and stretched my jaw open to accommodate the large toy.

“You like that don’t you?” Allison teased. “You like the thought of Scott’s fuckstick invading your virgin mouth?”

With my hands, I stroked the dildo, trying hard to imagine how Scott’s hard dick could be this big. “Please screw my tight throat,” I implored, “stretch my hole and fill me with your throbbing boner.”

As Allison thrust several inches down my gullet, I fought my gag reflex, my eyes starting to water. “Don’t worry sweetie,” she whispered, “it just seems impossible to deep throat a cock this big. Trust me, you can handle it. When my big rubber balls are bouncing off your chin, you’ll be begging for more.”

Allison sounded like a woman who knew her way around a big dick. I cranked my jaw open another few degrees and worked the last few inches down my throat. As I felt the hard rubber nutsack hit my chin, I felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment. I had throated Scott’s entire length.

“I wish Scott were here to see his good buddy impaled on his 9-inch boner,” Allison purred. “He’d either be really impressed, or he would beat the shit out of you.”

I took Allison’s rubber dick from my mouth, relaxing my aching jaw, “Is Scott really this big?”

“Scott’s hard dick is actually about a half inch longer than this replica,” she answered, “And his balls hang much lower in his sweaty nutsack.”

“Can you deep throat his entire length?” I asked, in awe that Allison could handle so much meat.

“I can and I do,” she replied, “in fact I do it every chance I get. I get off having him buried down my throat. I often reach orgasm while he fucks my face,” she announced proudly.

“You’re so lucky,” I moaned.

“Why do you think I went through with the tit job?” she continued. “I would do anything to please that big hunk of a man. He can be a royal prick sometimes, but his magnificent cock makes up for it.”

Looking down at my average six-inch tool, I had to ask another question, “Does it feel like he’s splitting you in two when you fuck?”

“It did at first,” she casually replied, “But I quickly learned to crave his fat sausage buried in my twat. But you wanna talk splitting-in-two, that stud can pack fudge like a professional.”

No fucking way, I thought. She couldn’t take a dick that big up her poop chute. “He fucks you in the butt with that baseball bat?”

“Oh yea, and I’m going to teach you to like it too.”

The thought repulsed my conservative mind, but looking down at my throbbing boner, it twitched with anticipation, a trickle of pre-cum leaking from my piss slit.

“I see your cock likes the idea of riding my fat rubber dick,” Allison cooed, bending down to finally stroke my ignored penis. Her hand was so soft, and as she bent to my pecker, her incredible tits swayed inches from my face.