Pam And Steve – Part 1

The coffee shop was almost deserted the booths that once hosted gatherings of hippies and beatniks now housed a new generation with smart phones and laptops. They were attracted by the free wi-fi as much as the fine coffee. The staff clattered and sloshed their way through the washing up after the lunchtime rush creating the perfect cover for what she was about to ask.

She cradled her cup in her hands the last remnants of heat from the inky espresso seeping into her fingers. She could trust him couldn’t she? He’d been a colleague for a year and a friend for a little less.

“So what is it you wanted to ask me?” He enquired, his interest piqued by her suggestion of a late lunch and liaison in this characterful beverage emporium.

“I think I’ve known you long enough to call you a friend.” She began uncertainly and stopped for a moment trying to read the expression on his face. His Brown eyes stared back at her kind and expectant, some might say excited. Shit this could go the wrong way she thought, but ploughed onward. “You are open-minded right?”

“I like to think so.” He smiled and suddenly became uncomfortable as the possible directions the conversation might take occurred to him. He tried to defuse the potential for embarrassment he perceived with a jokey wink. “Well my ex-girlfriend used to say so …” And immediately realised his mistake from her expression which now hovered between surprised and offended.

“I think I’ve made a mistake.” she said and grabbed her bag to leave.

He reached across the table and held her wrist. “No, please, I’m sorry. I want to help if I can. I’ll just sit here and keep my mouth shut while you tell me what it is I can do for you.”

She spent the next five minutes explaining about her special need. How her partners could never come to terms with it and how he could help her. Afterwards he couldn’t work out how he had kept his jaw from hitting the Formica table in front of him. Or why he agreed to meet her at her flat that night.

~~~

He pressed the intercom clutching a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine, slightly crushing the former and nearly dropping the latter as he craned close to the microphone to announce his name. The lock buzzed and he stepped into the lobby. The stairs of the Victorian house beckoned him to her first floor apartment.

The door clicked as he approached it and he was greeted by her in a red satin dress, knee length and stretched across her chest in  such a provocative way that a limp formed in his throat. “Pam, you look lovely.”

“Thank you Steve. Come in.” She looked quizzically at his presents.

“It didn’t feel right just to turn up with nothing.” He explained.

She had specified that he simply arrive, no meeting at a bar, restaurant or club, no preamble just turn up and give her what she wanted.

“I understand.” Pam said softly. “I know this is a bit odd. Come into the lounge.”

Pam led him into her homely living area and sat on her sofa, patting the leather next to her to encourage him to sit in arms reach. He placed the flowers and bottle on the table and sat, half turned towards her. “This is so good of you. Shall we start?”

Before Steve could answer she slipped first one then the other lace-thin strap from her shoulder leaving the satin only held in place by the shape of her boobs. His eyes rested on the mounds with their hard nipples all too evident under the red fabric. He tore his gaze from them, feeling guilty for his fixation and looked her in the eyes. “No, you look at them. I want you to look at them. Do you like them?”

He mumbled a wordless affirmation that he did. “My nipples are hard already.” She went on. “Do you want to see them?”

Pam didn’t wait for an answer but slowly peeled her dress over her boobs. Steve held his breath as he watched first her cleavage uncovered and then the edges of her nipples, the dark skin of her areola teased him from behind the satin. She paused for a moment, watching his anticipation and waited for his tongue to finish its slow traverse of his lips.

Much to Steve’s relief she pulled the dress down to her waist so he could see her breasts in their full glory. They were a full C maybe D cup, soft and natural with nipples that pointed towards him and seemed as if they were begging to be sucked. He raised a hand unsteadily towards them, pausing a few centimetres away, look Pam in the eyes. “Yes. Steve, Yes.” It was a plea as much as assent, encouraging and begging him to touch her two most erogenous zones …

This was her problem. Of all the areas of her body her breasts were the centre of her sexuality. Not a problem you might think but her arousal, her sensuousness and the core of her desire was all centred around her breasts. At first boyfriends loved it, a girl who couldn’t wait for them to get hold of her chest. But soon they tired of it because she loved the guys to touch, squeeze and pinch them, she had no interest in vaginal sex, or masturbation or oral sex. Not even the urge to feel her partner’s penis between her tits, spraying cum on her naked flesh …

Steve rested his hand on the heavy mass of her right breast and squoze it. Pam was electrified, writhing with pleasure. For a moment he thought she was exaggerating, playing the part to encourage him but as he began to explore he learned that what she had told him in the coffee shop was true; For Pam it was all about her tits.

With that realisation he began to experiment, first with his hands, then his mouth. Every different sensation solicited a different reaction. Kneading and squeezing them made her squirm and push back against his hands. Pinching her nipples made her pull away, not to be free of his thumb and forefinger but to pull the nipple taught and strain against the tormenting pincer movement.

Licking the flesh of her chest was like a skin safari, each millimetre a different texture and flavour, each long, lingering stroke initiating a different thrill of pleasure in her now flushed and trembling body.

He cupped both breasts in his hands and accompanied by Pamela’s moans sucked and licked her to a screaming crescendo that he was sure afterwards the neighbours would be complaining about. She came, just from the attention he gave to her breasts she came. He could smell it, the rich feminine aroma that was unmistakeably and reminded him of his own needs.

He slumped back on his arm of the sofa and realised that the hard dribbling erection in his jeans was the problem which Pamela and her boyfriends always encountered. He had though it would be fun and maybe lead to something more but she had explained it to him. Tits, nothing more.

Her skirt had ridden up and he could see the white panties underneath, just a glimpse. He knew they would be soaking wet from her orgasm and slowly let his eyes trek across her body. She was a beautiful mature woman sensuously cursed, breast to die for and now he came to really take in her face for the first time outside work he realised what an attractive woman she was. Her chestnut brown hair lay around her head and framed her resting face, eyes closed.

Steve tried to get up without disturbing her and crept to the bathroom. He closed the door and unzipped his jeans, pulling out his cock. Clear precum dripped from his foreskin and glistening in the halogen lights as he drew back the soft covering. He steadied himself against the cool tiles with one hand while stroking his erection with the other. In a few moments he was shooting streams of white cum into the bowl and gasping for his conciliatory climax.

Outside the door Pam listened to his gasps and the splash of his sticky wet seed.