The Best Tits in the World

I work in a field that’s dominated by women, and so the vast
majority of my coworkers are members of the fairer sex. What that
means precisely for this married man is that I have a lot of fodder
for my spank bank. There hasn’t been a single female coworker, young
or middle-aged, crippled or athletic, buxom or svelte that I haven’t
fantasized about.
It’s a tricky thing, actually. When you fantasize about someone
sexually, there’s always something frankly degrading about it, and
it’s hard to look someone in the eye the next day when you spent all
night thinking about coming in their face. (Good ol’ Catholic
guilt.) If I’m going to jerk off when thinking about a coworker, I’ll
consult the schedule first to make sure they won’t be in the next
day.
Lately, my fantasies have centered around two of my coworkers in
particular. They’re both college girls, almost fresh out of high
school, with some of the biggest tits you’ve ever seen. Sarah is a
blonde, lily-white skin, somewhat imperious if not an out-and-out
bitch. (You won’t believe how many times I’ve longed to slap her bigtits around.)

Zeinab’s people come from Lebanon: jet-black hair,
lightly-toasted skin, sweet-natured but prone to fits of anger and
melodrama.
Both Sarah and Zeinab are terrible flirts, despite the fact that
both are in relationships, and since I’m a happily-married man, they
generally feel comfortable flirting with me because they know nothing
is going to come of it, that I’ll never take it seriously or
misunderstand. They’re also fairly competitive, and this came to the
fore last week when they started arguing about who had a better pair
of big, luscious melons.
I listened to this debate (the place was empty save for the three
of us) as I went about my work, shaking my head occasionally at the
silliness of it even as I kept my ears wide open for any detail that
might be of aid later in the evening. After this back-and-forth had
gone on for a few minutes without resolution, Zeinab asked me what I
thought.
“You’re a man,” she said. “Who’s got better boobs, me or Sarah?”
“I don’t know if I should be answering that.”
“Come on,” said Sarah.
“Well, I don’t know.”
“It’s just us,” said Sarah.
“It’s just that I really don’t know,” I said. “I never gave them
much thought. I never really looked at them before.”
“Well, take a look now,” said Zeinab.
“Well, just to settle the debate,” I said. And then, glory of
glories, I got to stare at those tits. Not a glance stolen sideways,
but a nice, long, stare, just drinking up their cleavage.
“Well?”
“If you girls could lean forward a little, if you could bend over,”
I said.
Sarah did so without hesitation, letting her big white boobies hang
over the table. I could see the edge of her white cotton bra.
Zeinab went next. I noticed (though of course not for the first
time!) that while Sarah’s firm breasts squished together, Zeinab’s
hung apart, that there was more distance in her cleavage.
“Well,” said I, “this is a really tough decision. I honestly don’t
know which one is better. It’s hard to tell without actually seeing
them completely.” Quickly, and sincerely, I added: “Not that I want
to.” I held up my hand, showing off my simple gold band. “I think I’m
going to have to call it a tie.”
Nothing frustrated them more than not having a clear winner.
“Well,” said Zeinab, “which do you like better, personally?”
“Oh,” I said, “both pairs are quite lovely, just fine. They’re
just different, is all. They’d be better for different things.”
“Like what?” said Sarah.
Zeinab’s interest was also piqued. “What would you do with mine,
that you couldn’t do with hers?”
“Well, if I was to– purely hypothetically, of course…”
“Of course.”
“If I was to suck on your boobs,” and here I used ‘your’ to refer
to both of them, “because your boobs, Zeinab, hang a bit apart, seem
to be less firm and compact and more jello-y, a bit heavier, what I’d
do is lie down on this table or a bed and let you plop them into my
mouth, hanging over me. Whereas with Sarah, I’d rather hold one in my
hand, be sitting upright, and suck away like mad.”
“Or I could hold onto your head,” said Sarah, “and force your mouth
onto my nipples.”
“You could at that,” I said. “You could hold my face between your
big firm boobs, have me gasping for air in your cleavage. Whereas
with you, Zeinab, I’d rather you pelt my cheeks with them, shaking
them back-and-forth. If Sarah tried that, she might give me
whiplash.”
“You would love it,” said Sarah.
“Yours would certainly look nicer bouncing,” I offered. “If you
were on top, I’m sure they’d look great. Zeinab’s would be too jiggly
for me. Though if I had her bent over the table, I’d rather be
holding her boobs in my hands so I can feel them jiggle. So, as I
said, different boobs are good for different things.”
“Mine would be better for feeling up, then?” said Zeinab.
“And mine better for giving a good squeeze?” asked Sarah.
“That’s right,” I said. Both of them were quite flush, and so
against my better judgment I said what I had been wanting to say since
the conversation began. “Sarah, your boobs were practically made to
be slapped.”
“Slapped?” she said incredulously.
Oh, crap, I went too far. But I pressed on, meekly: “If you were
into that sort of thing, slapping them around. Big firm tits like
yours can take it.”
“How hard would you slap them?”
“As hard as you’d let me, probably.”
“Would they be all red?”
“Skin as white as yours, they’d be blistering red. Maybe starting
to bruise a bit.”
She gasped, almost involuntarily.
“What would you do to mine?” asked Zeinab.
“Probably grab ahold of your nipples and twist them around. Big
brown floppy boobs like that, twist them all around. And if I was to
fuck them…”
I paused, and saw that both of them were hanging on my every erotic
word. “If I was to take my dick and stick it between your tits,
Sarah, and your tits, Zeinab, then I would put Sarah on the table, on
her back, like a slut, and have her press her tits tight against my
cock and just fuck the living shit out of them.” Sarah shuddered.
“But with you, Zeinab, I would just lie back, pull out my cock, and
have you get on your knees, like a whore, and rub those lovely silky
boobs up and down my cock, like a warm velvet hand-job.”
“Whose tits would look better with your come all over them?”
demanded Zeinab. She answered her own question: “Well, mine, because
your hot white spunk would be contrasted by my sexy brown skin.”
Sarah countered, “I think mine would hold it better, because of
their shape. And I’d rub it all over my tits, into my perfect white
skin.”
They both glared at me.
“You both have valid points,” I said. “Like I said before, you
both have a lot to offer, just depends on what you want to do with
it.”
They looked disappointed. After a while, Zeinab blurted out, “God,
I’m so horny right now.”
“Me too,” said Sarah.
Both of those big-titted beauties stopped for a moment and stared
at each other, as if communicating by telepathy. Then, they turned
back to me, first Sarah, then Zeinab.
“Tell you what,” said Sarah, “whoever you pick, once-and-for-all,
as having the best tits, you get to fuck them.”
“You get to fuck them right here, right now,” said Zeinab. “And
for the rest of the week, whenever you want.”
“Whatever you want,” said Sarah, raising the stakes higher. “You
want my hot mouth, you want my tight asshole, it’s yours.”
“You can call me names,” said Zeinab. “You can call me a dumb
bitch and slap me around.”
“We’ll worship your cock,” said Sarah. “Just pick one of us.”
“The best tits,” I said, “the best tits in the whole world, bar
none, are my wife’s.”
They were not amused.
“I’m serious,” I said. “They might not be as big as either of
yours, but there’s one thing I can do with them that I could never do
with yours.”
After all the perversions I had listed off before, this got their
attention: what could there possibly be left?
“As I climb into bed, I can lean over and kiss each nipple, gently,
sweetly, completely and totally without lust, without a single twitch
of my cock. I can kiss her breasts good night, and that’s something I
could never do with yours.”
They nodded. “Well,” said Zeinab, “I can’t wait to try rubbing my
tits up and down Michael’s dick.”
“And I’m going to let Bob slap my tits till they’re raw,” said
Sarah.
I smiled. “I’m going to go home and jerk off like crazy thinking
about both of you,” I admitted. “And in the morning, I’m going to
make love to my wife. Ain’t monogamy grand?”