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too boobylicious for ya

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Baz really likes my tits.

 

Which, like, okay she’s a lesbian. Makes sense, yeah. But for her it’s like, a whole thing. I think of them as more of a pain in the ass half the time, but her liking them so much is… flattering. You’d think I was some greek goddess or shit the way she looks at ‘em.

 

Well, anyway.

 

I thought I’d try to do something nice for her, a little surprise. A month or so ago she’d been looking at bras for herself, and she’d paused at this leather number. Kinda like a vest, but held together by this little metal loop at the bottom instead of the big ass zipper on it. (Why even have the zipper if you can’t zip it up?) It’d struck me as pretty impractical at first; it looked scratchy too. A shit ton of straps lead to nowhere. (Baz would’ve looked good in it, though.) (Except, Baz looks good in everything, so that’s not a fair judgment.) 

 

I’d waited for Baz to scroll past it, but instead her long eyelashes just fluttered as she’d stared it down. “You gonna get it?” I’d asked. 

 

“Hm?” She was nestled in the crook of my arm. She looked up at me.

 

“You gonna get that one?” 

 

She’d blinked at me, then flicked her eyes to my boob she wasn’t laying on, then back to her screen. “No,” she said, starting to scroll again. 

 

If she wanted me to wear it she could’ve just asked. I’m not as big into wearing the outfits and lingerie as she is, but I’m not against it. So, I’d found the thing and bought it. 

 

Now, I’m laying on the couch in it, watching tv and waiting for her to get home. I just left my jeans on. I yawn and crack my toes. She’d told me she was gonna be home early tonight, right? I look at the clock on the wall— oh, right, that one’s broken. I shrug and start chewing on a nail. Hope it’s not a night I’m supposed to cook. 

 

It’s either three hours or ten minutes before she gets home. I immediately spit out my nail and shove my hands behind my head, trying to look sexy or something. I bought this thing a size too small, so my boobs are barely shoved in there. Half my damn nipple is out. 

 

“Simon?” she calls out.

 

I grunt. My legs squirm. How does she look so confident doing this all the time? I feel awkward.

 

She walks into the room, starting to say something. Whatever she was gonna tell me dies immediately. She stands stock still, staring at me. My neck starts to heat up. 

 

“Hey,” I say. “How was your day?”

 

Her mouth opens, then shuts. She starts unbuttoning her blouse. I feel a tingle along my neck and spread my legs a little. 

 

“When did you buy that?” She asks conversationally. Her blouse drops to the floor, then her skirt. 

 

She starts walking over. I shrug. “Couple weeks ago, maybe.” 

 

“That so?” She’s standing over me. Her lip is trapped between her teeth as her fingertips come down to slowly graze up my stomach. 

 

“Yep.” A muscle in my leg twitches. Her forefinger hooks into the dumb metal hoop. She pulls it up towards herself. Maybe it’s not so dumb. 

 

“And do you have any special plans for it?”

 

“I dunno,” I mumble. 

 

Within the next moment, her leg is swinging over me and my hips are getting straddled. She lets go of the loops and slides her hands over the leather. Something in my chest flutters. 

 

“I think you might’ve had something in mind,” she says, leaning down and rubbing her cheek against my tit. I feel her eyelashes brush my skin.

 

My hands finally come down and start touching her. They move over her bra straps and down her vertebrae. I swirl my fingertips through the soft hair at the base of her spine. “Maybe.” 

 

Her tongue presses to the half of my one nipple that’s hanging out. I wonder if the zipper hurts her tongue. 

 

She pulls more of my tit out and gives it a hard suck. (Guess the zipper was hurting.)  I grunt and start unhooking her bra. She halfheartedly moves enough for me to get it off and toss it across the living room. “Oh shit,” I mumble as I hear it knock something over. I look down at Baz. She seems so absorbed in smothering herself in my boobs that she didn’t notice. Phew.

 

She has both of my boobs almost completely out of the vest now. Her teeth scrape over a nipple; a gasp slips out of me. I sneak a thigh between her legs and push her hips back until she starts gently grinding against me. She pants against my spit-drenched tits, and my pussy throbs. Shit, she slobbered all over me, didn’t she?

 

Hm. Speaking of. 

 

I grab one of my boobs and lift the nipple up to my own mouth. Baz watches me like I’m about to cure cancer. I swirl my tongue around the areola before sucking on the nip. Baz stares as it disappears into my mouth, enraptured. It, honestly, took me too long to figure out this trick. If I’d known that this is all it took to make Baz give me her undivided attention, I’d have been whipping out my knockers and sticking ‘em in my mouth from day one.

 

I take her by the back of the head and pull her up to my face. I stick my tongue out, my nipple still on it. She immediately dives on in, kissing and licking around my tit. It feels sorta slimy and weird with both tongues, but it’s hot, and I find myself moaning when her lips brush mine. 

 

Her arm moves against my stomach, and it takes me a hot second for it to compute that she’s rubbing herself. “Hey,” I mumble. 

 

Baz pushes towards me for another messy kiss. My boob actually gets forgotten for once. 

 

I nudge her shoulder gently. “Take your undies off and get up here.”

 

She bats her eyelashes at me for a moment, then it registers. “Oh,” she says. “Ah.” 

 

She fumbles kicking off her panties and crawls up my chest like there’s a flame under her ass. I hold my boobs for her as she straddles my breasts. One of her feet ends up on the floor. Maybe… I should’ve thought to do this in the bedroom. Too late now. 

 

Her pubes tickle my skin as her pussy touches down. “Damn you’re really wet already,” I comment. 

 

She gingerly moves her hips so her clit brushes over a nipple. She sounds breathy as she says, “Would you prefer me to dry up for you?” Any snippiness she’d maintained while talking is immediately negated as she moans. 

 

I’ve never really understood why she likes riding my boobs so much. They’re, like, just boobs. She looks beautiful when she’s doing it, though. She’s so flushed and gorgeous. Sweaty, and hair messy. And I get to lay back and watch it, unlike when I’m eating her out and paying attention to what my mouth’s doing. (Not that I don’t like eating her out.) (I really like eating her out.)

 

My mouth starts watering. 

 

Baz moves my hands to where she wants my tits. 

 

When was the last time I ate her out? It seems like forever. It was Monday because Baz had gotten home late, and she gets home late on Mondays. What day was it today?

 

“Hey, Baz?” 

 

She grunts. 

 

“What day is it?”

Her hips briefly stutter. She braces a hand on the back of the couch and looks at me like I’ve told her to picture her grandma naked. (Ew.)

 

“Is this necessary right now?”

 

“Yeah. C’mon.”

 

She pants. Rolls her eyes. “I don’t know. Wednesday, I believe.” 

 

Well, it wasn’t as long as I thought, but still. 

 

“Are we finished with the pop quiz now?”

 

“Yeah.” I let my tits drop and she makes a noise of distress. I scooch down until my mouth can reach her clit. As soon as I give it a suck, she sighs, content, and settles onto my face. 

 

“I don’t-- see what the day of the week had to do with this,” she comments.

 

“Mmph.” I flick her clit with the flat of my tongue and then give it one huge slurp. Baz’s hands fist in the short hair on top of my head. 

 

I get lost in her pussy for a hot minute (ha, hot.) before remembering what the star of this show was supposed to be this afternoon. I scooch and crane my neck until I can move my boob up. God, this is fucking uncomfortable. 

 

“Simon, what are you—?”

 

I press my nipple against her opening and give her a hard suck and suddenly—

 

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, oh, f—” and just like that, she’s coming. 

 

Woah. Didn’t expect that to work so fast. 

 

I feel her flutter against my nipple. She rocks into me, then I open up my mouth and stick out my tongue and let her keep chasing orgasms. She yanks my head up even closer to her crotch. (I’m gonna have a bitch of crick in my neck later.) It’s hot breath and her smell and her sounds and just— just— 

 

Jesus fucking christ, yknow?

 

When she’s done, she practically collapses against the arm of the chair. I get to lay my head back down. Ah, thank god. 

 

Baz shakily climbs down to slump onto my chest. She huffs like she just ran a 5k. 

 

“You should buy lingerie more often.”

 

I bark out a laugh. “Can do.” I look down and tilt her chin up to meet me.

 

“Mmm,” she says against my lips. “How gracious.” 

 

I snort. Her hand starts traveling south. 

 

“I suppose this warrants a reward.”

 

I spread my legs as her fingers touch the hem of my jeans. 

 

 

I should get a fancy bra every Wednesday.