The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Martin — July

Dawn was exasperated by how long it had taken me to get the moving van squared away—not a problem in need of an explanation in New York, where parking can take five minutes or an hour. Besides, her angst was purely about time having ticked away without the two of us banging each other on the next to last night before she left for Italy.

Though most of our meager possessions were in boxes, we still had a mattress on the floor, not worth keeping when it was scorched and scarred with all sorts of tit-created circular burn marks. We created two new ones as Dawn’s boobs flattened wide onto the mattress with her ass raised high, wanting me from behind. As I pumped into her I simultaneously found myself tuning in to the girl-girl lovemaking taking place blocks away, in Laura’s apartment. It was funny to enter those breasts and be able to sense how their mass, even combined, even with Bonnie continuing to grow, didn’t equal the volume that Dawn had pressed beneath her, smoking as she screamed out her pleasure.

Some fires, once started, stay lit even without tending. Bonnie and Laura had continued to make love while I’d dealt with paperwork and parking, and it seemed that the tide had turned, in that Laura’s tongue was doing a number on Bonnie’s nipples. I thought Laura should be rewarded for being such a giving lover, and so I went inside her tits again and gradually turned them into sensation-monsters. Once all three pair in my awareness were screaming with energy, I kept my focus and revved them in unison, creating something like a synchronized cocktail of runaway bust-lust. It took some concentration, not an easy thing when Dawn switched positions and began to tit-fuck me for all she was worth, but I managed to coordinate three simultaneous boob-centric orgasms that shook my balls and dick like I had multiple earthquakes stroking me off. I came all over Dawn’s sternum and throat as the lower part of her body mule-bucked her wet release, eventually collapsing on me with her right boob covering the lower part of my face. I accepted the soft warm weight by turning my head so I could breathe, and we lay there with our hearts gradually calming, recovering for more.

I thought I could feel a similar scene at Laura’s apartment, their tits pressed together so I couldn’t tell which heartbeat belonged to whom.

This was boob sex of the third kind, and I fucking loved it.

Dawn and I slept little and fucked much into the wee hours, not wanting to waste the night. We got up at seven and had the van all packed by nine, and it was while driving through Manhattan to the Williamsburg Bridge that Bonnie’s name came up, via Dawn’s lips.

“I wonder if Bonnie will help us carry some things in,” she said out of nowhere. “She’s small but she looked really strong.”

Bonnie, from what I could tell, was still sound asleep with some part of Laura’s body warming her left breast. But I thought Dawn’s comment was less about fewer boxes to carry, and more about how I’d be living down the hall from a great looking woman, just me and the cute-as-hell yoga babe with the growing tits that were also growing my dick. Dawn didn’t know about all that, and even I didn’t know why Bonnie’s boobs were getting bigger. I hadn’t seen the change in about a week, but from what I could feel of them, the difference was enough that Laura and others had to wonder what was going on. Bonnie had to be wondering, too, and I had no idea how she was dealing with it. Other than with sex and/or masturbation, every single night.

Oh what potential for a tangled web, now that Bonnie and Laura had become lovers. It occurred to me that Bonnie’s other lover, the one whose hands and mouth had been in my awareness when I first tuned into Bonnie’s breasts, hadn’t been on the scene for a bit. Had she been dumped for Laura? Laura was definitely cheating on What’s-his-fiancé-face—if they were even together still—and perhaps Bonnie was in a similar situation. And Dawn, I thought, had been speaking recently as if she expected me to stray, with Bonnie.

She had asked a couple of times since meeting her what I’d thought of Bonnie. She continued to probe about that as we were crossing over the East River, asking if I thought Bonnie was beautiful.

I decided to be honest to a degree. “She looks like a living advertisement for yoga sex,” I said. And Dawn didn’t even know how much more like that she was now, with her tits growing bigger.

I expected to get a disapproving comment or at least a lowering of eyebrows, but Dawn said, “I thought the same thing. I also thought she was checking you out pretty intensely when we were over there.”

“That’s funny. I thought she was checking you out,” I said, partly because it was true, partly because this conversation had me feeling uneasy. “I’m pretty sure she’s into women,” I added.

“Doesn’t mean she can’t dirty-dance with men, too.”

“True.”

“Martin, I want you to know...”She squirmed in the passenger seat, the shoulder strap on her side cutting a diagonal line between her breasts that emphasized their volume. Something in her demeanor told me she was thinking about how we should treat monogamy, or its antithesis, during her time away.“I’ll call and write,” she said. “And I have my phone, so I can send pictures to remind you of how much you love my body.”

That love word was large enough that it filled the available space in the van. Dawn wasn’t one to use it casually, unconsciously; she was making a point that leaving me to spend time overseas had nothing to do with how she felt about me.

“It doesn’t feel quite right to me when you imply it’s only your body I love,” I said. I was pretty sure the words by themselves were capable of warming her heart. Just because I could, I made a point of having them warm her tits, too.

She had a way of breathing deeply when I did that, which in profile made it look like her tits had grown a couple of inches. I took my eye off the road for a second or two to witness the effect, and she caught me doing it, and laughed.

“Say what you want, you could look for the entire month and never find another woman with boobs as hot as mine. Literally.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Because I’d been inside a good handful of tits by now, and no one else had demonstrated that smoking hot ability.

We were over the bridge now and though I’d gone back to staring straight ahead, I knew she was looking at my shorts, and thinking about the cock she believed she’d caused to grow like a magic beanstalk. “We shouldn’t pretend that we’re normal people when it comes to sex,” she said. “We’re freaks.”

Back to the freak language. “That sounds like the old Dawn speaking, the one who couldn’t accept how special her figure was.”

“It’s gone way past that and you know it. I don’t know what I am, Martin. I used to worry that my boobs were way too big; now they can burn like torches without getting burnt, and look at what’s happened to you from being with me. You were fine before, but now you’re hung like a picture frame.”

“I get the feeling you’re trying to say something without actually saying it.”

“You’re right. I’m not sure if you understand how I get so sexed up sometimes, so quickly. It’s like my boobs go nuclear and I feel like I’ll die if I don’t get off. I keep wondering what I’ll do if that happens on the plane, or in my room at the dig site. I just don’t know what to expect and I think the same is true for you. Your thing is growing, which is miracle enough. But think about it—how many times can you ejaculate in a day?”

“I haven’t been counting.”

“A dozen times? Twenty? I know we must have done it close to twenty times in twenty-four hours, just last morning to this one.”

I made a quick count by thinking of the ways we’d filmed Dawn for the site yesterday, plus the night’s fucking. I came up with fourteen since this time the previous day, and it would have been more if I hadn’t spent all that time screwing with Laura’s sex life while getting the van.

“Don’t pretend that’s normal,” Dawn said. “You might want to be faithful to me but feel... I don’t know, compelled. Like you have to have sex, in a way no one else would even understand. I could end up feeling like that, too, and... I don’t know. It’s not a question of my feeling for you; it’s the unpredictability of my body. I don’t know how I’m going to stand it, not having you there to ravage me. I mean, will the need ease off when I’m busy working? I kind of hope so, but I just don’t know.”

Some of what she was saying was stuff I’d already thought about, without coming up with any answers. I’d switched Dawn on in a way we still didn’t understand, and we had no experience with what might happen once we were physically separated by however many thousand miles.

I thought I’d be okay, but only because I’d have Bonnie right down the hall, for better or worse. I’d been drawn to Dawn on invisible strings, and now I felt compelled to wreak some serious ravaging on Bonnie’s blossoming body, almost like I didn’t have a choice. It had nothing to do with what was the right thing to do by any normal rules—with Dawn leaving, every erection pointed at least partway in Bonnie’s direction now, as though the tip of my dick had become magnetized and either her tits or her pussy represented true magnetic north.

The conversation ended when we pulled up outside the Williamsburg high-rise. It took no time at all to get all our stuff loaded onto the freight elevator, and into the new loft. Because we were whom we were and did what we did, my photo gear and several bottles of sex-friendly lotion were the very first items unpacked. The owners’ bed was wide and firm and unscorched, just waiting for us to put our own sheets on it and play.

I urged Dawn to put on the red wig, and shot footage of her unpacking clothes and hanging them in the bedroom’s walk-in closet. I tit-heat coaxed her into pausing in her activities, trying on different outfits with every change of attire getting her breasts more excited. The light, almost entirely from the west, was excellent, and I liked how I could position myself with the floor-to-ceiling windows behind Dawn’s thrusting tits, the skyline of Manhattan like an assemblage of concrete erections responding to her figure.

There was much more room to move around in this space, and Dawn took advantage, becoming something like a pole-dancer minus the pole, letting her body elongate and contort, flirting with the camera to the point of nearly fucking it.

“You poor man,” was whispered into my ear, sound and breath suddenly close. Because filming Dawn had done what filming Dawn always did, turning my cock into an oversized begging animal.

Two hands squeezed hard around my erection, until one of them left to remove the forgotten camera from my hand. She pushed me over to the bed, our bigger better bed, flopping me onto my back and climbing aboard with her tits dangling all over my face.

I essentially channeled the energy making my dick strain straight into Dawn’s knockers, making them two big bouncy echo-chambers to reverberate with the same kind of lust. I wasn’t surprised at all when she gasped, leaping away for a few seconds to grab a bottle of lotion, which she uncapped and squirted all over her tits, focusing on the cleavage crack soon to be filled.

“Fuck them!” she demanded, frantically pulling my jeans off and slapping her tits together against my towering meat.

And thus began our first fuckathon in Brooklyn. I’d love to say the first of many, but there were already less than eighteen hours before Dawn would be on a flight from JFK, soaring across the Atlantic.

Bonnie — July

My breasts felt great when I first awakened in the morning. They were sore in places from having been girl-handed so frequently in the night, Laura going a little boob-crazy sometime after midnight, straddling my chest with spread legs while she ground her clitoris around and around one stiff nipple, then the next. She literally fucked my tits, more than once, and came from it, heating and wetting them with her juices.

This was a woman getting married to a stiff Wall Street suit? It wasn’t my business, but good luck with that.

She wasn’t as wild as I wanted, though, as I came so many times and so forcefully that she grew shy of going down on me. Thank God I had my dildo in my handbag—it had felt like a desperate thing, the need to carry such a safeguard with me when I went out, but it came in handy, Laura showing none of Mirabella’s reticence in using the phallus on me, on her, on us.

I needed sex every night, or multiple times every night. It was time I admitted it, that I could often hold myself together during the day, but once the sun went down my libido went up. It probably wasn’t quite that clockwork, but when was the last night I hadn’t needed to get off?

It was late morning or even early afternoon when I stirred, ready to get the day going. Laura was still sound asleep, more like passed out, and I gently uncurled from her embrace, got up and stretched my muscles. The bedsheets were a twisted mass at the foot of the bed, and the room smelled the way I could imagine a lesbian whorehouse smelling. How many times had I come? I’d lost track, but could remember times before the dildo, then more after.

I turned in the direction of the bedroom door, intending to head for the bathroom and a cleansing shower, when I saw it. For an instant I had no idea what it was, and when I did identify it I wondered if I might still be asleep, and dreaming. My blue dildo—it was embedded halfway inside the wall next to the bedroom door.

It seemed that every muscle in my body trembled as I went over to investigate, my head shaking back and forth in disbelief. The hole in the drywall was significantly wider than the phallus’ circumference, the impact caving in a section about the size of a book. My heart pounded as I reached and pulled the dildo from its embedded position. The shaft was completely intact but one of the balls had cracked, leaving jagged edges. It was still partially wet in my hand, wet from me, with dust and pieces of drywall clinging to the moisture.

Perhaps a minute passed where my thoughts didn’t move. When I snapped out of it the gritty dildo was in one hand, my cell phone in the other. I closed Laura’s bedroom door and went into the bathroom, closing and locking that door, and only then dialed Mirabella’s number, sitting naked on the toilet, staring at the distressed blue dildo in my hand.

“Belle, I need you.”

“Not again... Jesus, Bonnie, I’m here with my mother. We’re about to...”

“Listen to me! Something’s happening! Last night I was trying to... to walk off some anxiety, and all of a sudden it was like my hormones attacked me. I keep thinking of solar flares, surges of explosive energy... It’s like my body has a will of its own and I can’t control it!”

“You’re being theatrical again. Listen to me, Bonnie, I don’t have time for this. My mom goes into surgery in two hours and it’s all very emotional down here.” In a lowered voice: “If you’re horny pull out your dildo and...”

“I just fucked my dildo last night and I think I… I…”

“You what?”

“I think I broke it.”

“Broke it? How?”

I thought of the hole in the wall, exactly opposite from where I my pussy might have been angled. It had to be true, but I couldn’t say it. Vaginas didn’t shoot objects like that, they just didn’t.

I confessed another impossibility instead. “My breasts are still growing, Belle.”

“Right. Call Ram, Bonnie. He’s in the city and I’m sure he can help you with your belief in... With all of this. You’ll be fine, but I need some peace and quiet, okay? It’s going to be a long day.”

“Belle, my tits are catching up to yours! They’re at least that big, maybe more!”

Silence.

“Finally, I got your attention. They’re so big, Belle. They’re growing and the energy I feel inside them... It’s like they’re alive! It’s like they’ve become... I don’t know, growing creatures with their own appetites!”

“Bonnie, I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. You don’t have to... Look, they’re calling me in to sign some papers. I have to go.”

She rang off without giving me a chance to say anything more. Had she come close to saying that I believed in my delusions? That I didn’t need to make up stories about my tits growing to lure her back? Like all of this was in my head?

I placed my hands on my breasts. These were not mirages; I could feel the increased size and when I stood and positioned them in front of the mirror, I could see how much they’d grown. When I spread my fingers and pressed there was boob flesh bulging between the fingers. When I let go and simply looked down, they stood out like they were proud of being so big and beautiful.

“No wonder,” I whispered out loud, remembering how Laura had become something of a boob worshipper in the night. Me, great body but small boobs, had cheated with a well-endowed student, only now I had bigger and better tits than she had.

“No wonder,” I said again, thinking how preposterous it must sound to Mirabella. I could take a picture with my phone and send it, and was lifting my arm to do just that when a better thought came into my head.

“I could show her in person.” Fly down tonight or tomorrow. Get away from the temptation to keep cheating with Laura. Get away from the temptations that were probably moving their things into the apartment down the hall from mine right about now.

“Fuck my girlfriend like I’m supposed to.”

And let her see for herself.

“It just keeps getting better and better,” Dawn said, sounding kind of dazed. “I think... I’d say we’re good in this new apartment. A shame I have to leave it so quickly.”

Right-o, depending on what “good” and “shame” meant. I could hear the nervousness in her voice about how she’d deal with the lack of this kind of encounter overseas, and I wondered if she had any clue that things might be just as treacherous, in another way, if she’d decided to stay. It was easy as love-pie to imagine me with Dawn and Bonnie together, all in one bed with Bonnie’s tits growing while Dawn’s burned circles into the sheets.

Maybe it was silly but in thinking of doing the two women together I remembered that old Ghostbusters thing about not crossing the streams. I had this weird feeling that with women like Dawn and Bonnie, women whose bodies were reacting to me in ways I didn’t fully understand, I was dealing with alchemical forces that might combine in even freakier ways than I’d seen so far.

Dawn and I used our new spacious shower for the first time, and it was during the rinsing of my hair that I could feel Bonnie’s tits arriving in the building. They rose from below to my level in the elevator, jiggled to her door and went inside.

Just down the hall. Growing breasts that fucked with the size of my dick, just down the hall. I’d known all along what the arrangement would be, that Bonnie would go from miles away to mere yards away, but to feel her there, her tits shifting this way and that as she went through the motions of her day...

It was an effort to keep my focus in this loft, not that one, a bit like learning to tune out the conversations taking place at other tables in a restaurant. Dawn and I managed to get the new space in order through the rest of the afternoon. There were clothes and other things she kept packed in her suitcases, and other possessions she wanted set up in the loft. We got our computers going, and during the afternoon she wrote personalized replies to her new online fans. We’d gotten an additional thirty-seven subscribers just in the time that we’d moved and fucked, meaning the word was getting out that an extremely sexy and steamy internet model had arrived on the scene.

Having no groceries, I ordered take-out Italian food that evening, accompanied with chilled Pinot Grigio. Dawn would be up to her eyeballs in the real deal the very next day, but she loved the gesture. She was excited about leaving, about the website, about everything. She was kind of wired, and downed a second and third glass of wine while continuing to respond to her website admirers. I gave her an additional hour of privacy as I set up a single spotlight in the main area of the loft, turning it on and turning off all the other lights. I wanted something really dramatic this final night, some video and photos that could lure in even the most frugal of big-tit porn lovers. Not long ago I’d envisioned shooting a ton of material of Dawn in this space over the summer—that wasn’t going to happen now, but we could get one really good night’s worth.

When all was ready I went inside Dawn’s tits, putting them on simmer, then boil. I could hear the tap-tapping of her typing fingers get less regular, and she cursed at her mistakes as she made more and more of them. I began the photo session with images of Dawn clothed and sitting at the computer, which turned into the removal of her clothing and ended up with her tits squashed against her computer screen, the monitor’s glow bestowing an eerie light that accentuated their volume. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of the scenario before—with her boobs mushed into the monitor it was almost like she was tit-fucking her fans, trying to push her tits from her reality into theirs. It drove the point home when I excited her tits to the breaking point, and she came hard enough that she pretty much collapsed onto her keyboard afterwards, the weight of her tits typing who knows what as her hands clutched at the desk edge.

I didn’t give her much rest time. When she was mobile enough to drink down the letftover wine from her glass, I beckoned her towards the camera. On the surface I drew her close to lick her nipples while my fingers traced an upwards path along her pussy. Beneath the surface, I poured need into her tits until she was half-blind with lust. I spun her away from me and that’s when the video camerawork started, following her movement as she staggered around the great space. I hit her tits even harder and she careened into the balcony glass, grinding her pussy against the reflection of her pussy, her sex like a squeegee smearing her need in long loud squeaks.

I hadn’t planned this pussy-scented window-wiping direction when I started but it was fabulous and I went with the flow, handing her a bottle of lotion before stepping out onto the balcony. I pointed to her tits and made a window-washing movement with my hand, spiking the heat in her nipples so it felt like boobular window-wiping was the thing her tits had been dying for her entire life.

Dawn covered her tits with the lotion and smushed them against the glass, rubbing wide tit-circles that filmed away the transparency and turned the rest of her body into an abstracted haze of slender sensual form. Our balcony was roughly ten feet across and seven feet deep, the safety railing lined with two solid panels of some beige colored material. I felt safe backing against the solid railing to frame the scene, the new neighborhood pornographer getting incredible footage of a backlit Dawn glassturbating herself into a frenzy on a hot Brooklyn night.

Dawn’s weren’t the only tits I could sense nearby, and Bonnie’s were in movement, approaching. I kept filming, but turned my head to see Bonnie step onto an identical balcony two units to my right. Dawn was in a state and I hadn’t closed the patio door entirely, meaning her ecstatic moans were escaping out into the night. I knew Bonnie could hear and was looking our way as I continued to shoot Dawn’s oily window polishing. I didn’t think Bonnie could see the window wiping action from her vantage point but it didn’t matter; sex permeated the atmosphere and without me even going inside them to manipulate anything, Bonnie’s nipples puffed up and began to strain like baby birds’ beaks seeking a worm from mama.

I had an erection of course, and was certain she could see the distorted profile at the front of my shorts. I thought about turning to say something to her or acknowledging her presence; hell, I could even go for broke and cross the streams and see if the world exploded. I don’t know what I might have said or done because none of that happened. Dawn slid the balcony door open, stepped out just enough to grab an arm with an oily hand and yelled into the night, “I can’t take it anymore, come inside and fuck me!”

I went inside, and fucked her. We did it right there on the floor by the patio doors, and I noticed how the backlighting spilled our shadows out onto the balcony’s solid panels, the outlines of our bodies and what we were doing with each other easy to see. Bonnie had remained on her balcony; I could feel her tits out there and they were full of sexual force, twin dynamos that were bound to have her masturbating soon.

Dawn was on all fours begging me to take her from behind, and I decided to work with the shadow puppet idea since we were already there, pivoting her sideways to the glass doors, giving Bonnie a profile view of Dawn’s tits hanging down, and my hard cock ready to plow in. Bonnie’s nipples were just completely hormone-flooded over there, and I couldn’t resist taking a peek out the glass doors at how our lovemaking looked on the safety panels’ smooth surface. I was chopped off at navel-level, but almost all of Dawn was visible, as was the two-dimensional action of my cock plunging in and out her raised ass.

It probably wasn’t even necessary as heated up as she already was but what the fuck—I went inside Bonnie’s tits and threw sex-gas onto her fire, which produced a scream outside that made me wonder for an instant if I’d gone too far and made her jump. She was running, though, not jumping, running inside. As my meat slid in and out of Dawn I felt Bonnie’s tits two units away, freed from her bra and squeezed together with two hands. I was in them, feeling those tits and Dawn’s too, and I just went nuts as it felt to me like I really was fucking two women at once. I might have lost control, sending out waves of breast excitement in all directions, and Dawn took the brunt of it by being there with me, her pussy clenching around my cock as it never had before, like an inverse python squeezing me for dear life as a climax for the ages was ripped from her depths.

I’d lost track but I could sense Bonnie elsewhere in the building, panting in recovery just like Dawn, with her breasts pointed upwards, no doubt lying on her back. Both women seemed to be in a state of shock, like their climaxes had fried circuitry that needed time to repair. Bonnie’s breasts, however, were still doing their internal dynamo thing, like they were on a different wavelength than the rest of the woman, fed by some indefinable and inexhaustible source of fuel. I didn’t get what was going on over there, but she was part of my sexual history now, even though we wouldn’t yet be considered lovers in any conventional sense.

Dawn showed every sign of being spent and unable to move for a time, and when I believed I could function again I picked her up from the floor and carried her to the bed. Sometimes her eyes were closed; other times they opened, and with her lips absently parted she looked a million miles away.

I was intrigued by the faraway look and photographed her lying there in her state of post-sexual devastation. The light was dim and I positioned a single light on a stand with a barn door attachment to narrow the beam, creating a situation where I could highlight certain strips of Dawn’s form, the rest falling into semi-darkness. I moved her a couple of times, arranging a leg here, the direction of her torso there. She was like a semi-conscious rag doll, a naked Stackety Ann to position for maximum photographic effect.

I slipped on a pair of shorts and went back into the big room, to the table where I’d set up my laptop. I downloaded the new photos onto my computer, and opened another bottle of wine. There was a surreal or otherworldly quality to images of Dawn in the bed, and I chose the ten best and cropped them. I’d never seen anything quite like them in all my research—she appeared neither conscious nor unconscious, more like she’d injected pure sex into a vein the way someone else might abuse heroin. Her eyes, when they opened to stare at nothing, looked dazed, and her nipples remained full and erect like she was still tripping the climax fantastic.

The window-washing boob footage was next, and it was just as good as I thought it would be. I was beginning to wonder if there were any scenarios where Dawn wouldn’t look sexy as get-all—you just looked at the woman on the screen and wanted to lick her, and help her melt, and watch her burn.

We were building up a nice little collection of photos and videos, enough for the entire summer. I checked the numbers—another twenty-nine subscribers in a just a few hours. Dawn, aka Scarlet, was on the map, and the interest would only grow.

Like Bonnie’s breasts? Like my dick?

I felt Dawn’s breasts shift and rise; she was out of bed and coming my way. She slipped up behind me, placing hands on my shoulders as I stared at an image of her oiled boobs smushed against the patio glass. She cooed her approval, kneeled beside the chair and unzipped my shorts.

“I’m not going to sleep away our last night,” she said, licking my pulsing crown. “I think you’re even bigger than yesterday,” she commented before wrapping her lips around me, easing me deep into her mouth.

From the feel of things in there, I really was a little bit bigger. She had to spread her mouth noticeably wider than the very first blowjobs she’d given me, and I went farther down her gullet when she bobbed her head with deep-throating action.

She blew me and I ate her, and we fucked in the bed with her on top, and she gave me what amounted to a good-bye tit-job at three in the morning. We did fall asleep for about two hours, during which I had a dream that some woman had taken hold of my cock and was pulling it to pull me. It didn’t hurt my dick, no pain, but I felt imbalanced, like even if she let go and I stood still, my dick would stick out at an angle, like it was drawn to point in one direction.

I started awake and realized that the sensation remained true. I felt something else, too—it was Bonnie, or Bonnie’s tits, moving away from us with some velocity. It wasn’t even five-thirty in the morning, and she was up and going somewhere in a car or on a train.

Dawn kissed me before hopping out of bed for the shower. As she groomed herself for travel, I stood at the big windows, trying to decode this new strangeness of my cock feeling pulled. I thought at first that it must be our new location—being at the edge of the East River with so many breasts over there, in Manhattan, my cock could feel their weight, or presence, and felt pulled where all the boobs were. Maybe that was true; it could also be that I was feeling the pull beyond Manhattan, west and north and south. But not so much east, because east was mostly ocean?

I knew that was right—my awareness was expanding and that meant the mammarian murmur was expanding, becoming regional.I didn’t have time to think about it just then as I had to get ready, too.Her eyes were tired but otherwise Dawn looked fabulous in a knee length summer dress with goo-gobs of bulging cleavage showing. So different than when all this had begun, and she’d limited her wardrobe because she didn’t know how to be with having those tits.

Dawn and I exchanged complicated glances and held hands while pulling her luggage down the long hallway. We kissed in the elevator, a tender embracing of tongues, and I warmed her nipples, just because.

In the cab to the airport, I had a disorienting moment or two when I felt Bonnie’s tits like they were rising above us like the sun. I’d felt tits high above me before, in building and elevators, but this was different. I saw streaking jet-trails glowing red with the morning light, and knew the answer—Bonnie had gone to the airport, too, and was already up in the sky, going who knows where.

People at JFK stared at Dawn’s figure and I could only imagine how some Italian driver would react when he picked her up in Naples. It was tempting to fuck around with her tits as something of a good-bye present, but I didn’t, other than to give them an unmistakable hit of warmth when we hugged and kissed our summer farewell. As I watched her walk away, pulling her luggage behind, I thought she looked like a vision, possibly even like the love of one’s life.

I sat at a bench outside the airport, and felt the movements of her tits from security line to boarding area to plane. Eventually I could feel her tits taxiing, and the gravitational force of take-off. When her tits and a bright white plane rose into the sky, I expected the connection to be severed at any second, the distance too great. I could see the plane climb, bank, becoming tiny. But even as I lost sight of it her breasts remained. I stayed with them as long as I could, probably something like ten minutes, until they eventually winked out somewhere north, seeking the trade winds before curving over the vast Atlantic.

Gone. Dawn gone and Bonnie, too, for whatever reason.Leaving me with—I closed my eyes and opened myself to the background murmur—thousands of unknown breasts.

And a few I did know, Laura’s and... Aha, yes. Italian breasts, as generous in portion as an old-country home-cooked meal. There was a certain symmetry to that, wasn’t there—Dawn was on her way to do what she was good at in Italy, so why not me, in my own way?