Breast dream turned into a nightmare!
Dear Annie, I’M a big-boob man – not a man with big boobs, you understand (though they’re bigger than they should be), just that I love women with them.
Huge ones, actually. Whoppers, double-handfuls, massive, heaving, wobbling, succulent examples of prime womanhood...sorry, I’m getting carried away here!
So I suppose it’s plain bad luck that I’ve ended up with a wife with a flat chest.
Well, not bad luck, if I’m honest – I was desperate for regular sex so I married the first woman who’d have me.
But though I’ve had my needs downstairs met, by and large, I’ve never been fully satisfied since I’ve long had this need to play with a huge pair.
So when I went to an old school reunion the other week my dream at last came true – though it led to a nightmare.
Bear in mind that we were all in our early 40s and most of us were starting to look middle aged and frumpy.
But this one woman, who nobody seemed to remember, attracted a lot of attention.
She had a short, tight red dress, her hair big and long, high heels, black stockings... and the biggest breasts I ever saw bursting up and out like two huge pillows!
I got a lob-on straight away, made excuses to the pals I was talking to and made a beeline for this absolutely fantastic pair.
We chatted, though I struggled to make eye contact, her boobs were so stunning. Eventually, I told her I was knocked out by her form, and to my joy she invited me back to hers to see them close up.
An hour later I was spent, having sucked, licked and pawed her lovely orbs and had them squeezed round my member till I had the most powerful climax I’d ever had in my life.
We carried on till dawn, with me venting all my pent-up lust and her writhing under and on top of me – it was the most joyous and filthy night I’d ever spent.
We parted totally exhausted and I went home with a weak lie to the missus about how I’d got drunk and slept in the car.
But the pleasure that I’d got my big-boob fantasy out of my system turned to total anguish when she turned up on my doorstep, telling my wife she was my girlfriend.
To say there was a “scene” would be to understate the case by the power of about a thousand.
The woman cleared off in tears and anger, and I’m now living in the shed and facing an expensive divorce and a future with no sex. How do I put things right?