You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Breasts » Page 11 | Search
This is a question Breasts

Your stories on The Devil's Pillows, please.

Suggested by PsychoChomp

(, Thu 6 May 2010, 13:21)
Pages: Latest, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Manky lady at work.
The pharmacy where I work is smaller in design that it really should be, so there is lot of "excuse me" and sometimes a gentle tap on the shoulder to politely ask people to move out of your way.

So, one day, I am in debate with the pharmacist, and one of the um, slightly older ladies that I work with pushes by. The thing is this, she doesn't just push by. She faces towards me, and brushes her boobs against mine. This is no mean feat as she is a lot shorter than I am, I'm still a little hazy on how she actually managed it.

I'm not all homophobic hetro, just that let's just say that I wanted a shower because I can't believe that I brushed boobs with someone who, well, I just wouldn't.

I still feel a little unclean thinking about it now. Yuk.
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 19:05, Reply)
I need to start running.
I've just descended the stairs quite rapidly and could feel my breasts bouncing. I am a 33 year old man. It's time to cut down on my pork life and get some exercise...
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 17:07, 1 reply)
mmmmm breasts...

(, Tue 11 May 2010, 16:23, 5 replies)
A few years back
I was sat with a mate in my living room waiting for the then Mrs. to get her shit together prior to going out for an evening of fun, frivolity and alcohol abuse round Camden Town.

This mate of mine was someone I’d met from work, a lad named Matt who – dispite being a bit of a wine bar poncer was pretty much ok – we’re supping at a couple of cans of warm-up beer when the Mrs walks in on the look out for earings, a bracelet, or some other weird feminine accompliment.

Matt and I stop dead in our tracks, beer cans held part way to our lips.

As the Mrs. walked into the room she was just pulling her top down over her fully exposed fleshy funbags. Just a glimpse of her googly-eyed, dark-nippled, nubile jubblies. It was like a subliminal cut in a film, and I think both Matt and I felt the sudden urge to go out and buy a pair of breasts after seeing it, I mean them.

Matt looked at me. I looked at Matt. Then the Mrs, seeing our look of complete and utter bemusement, pipes up: “Oh, don’t mind those.” She collects her tat and fucks off back to the bathroom to finish putting her face together.

Matt and I drank our beer in silence, feeling uncomfortable. Then we go out.

Later after a few drinkies the Mrs turns to me while Matt’s at the bar and says: “Nice fella, that Matt.” I wondered where the fuck this was leading. Did she want to fuck him? Did she want to watch me fuck him? Did my Mrs. fancy a spot of DP after her bacardi breezers, JD and cokes, and kebab on the way home? She follows this up with: “He should’ve brought his boyfriend out too.”

“Boyfriend?” I’m confused as hell now.

“Yeah – I’d love to meet him.”

“Errr, Matt’s straight.”

The Mrs. face falls. “YOU TOLD ME HE WAS GAY!!!”

I think about this for a good long while, then something sparks in the deepest recesses of my booze-addled brain. I say: “That’s a different Matt.”

And this was followed by quite an uncomfortable evening for the three of us.
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 15:55, 7 replies)
Do you suppose
in anime universes there's a big demand for fictional bra sizes like 30T or 28RR, or do you think they just magically stay up on their own?
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 15:54, 1 reply)
I'm 5'9" and about 14 stone
I've got a fantastic pair.
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 15:48, 6 replies)
Linked Peas, and a knocking of the knees.
www.b3ta.com/questions/unexpectednudity/post434622
www.b3ta.com/questions/unemployed/post399337

In more recent news Best Beloved has been looking admiringly at herself in the mirror over the last few weeks.
Dear girl started at what I considered a pert and perky 34c. Shapely and snugglesome with just a hint of the naughtiness and a tendancy to smuggle peanuts on a cold day.
The lass herself however considered them "far too small" and frequently compared herself unfavourably to some our chums, at least one of whom appears to have been gruesomely shot in the back with a pair of zepplins.

All that changed a month or so back, she's grinning like a ninny as various dread hormonal processes have ballooned her cleavage up to a dress distorting 36dd with no sign of stopping. 36dd of increadibly firm boobage with nipples so sensitive that she squirms and turns pink if I glare at them sufficiently hard.

Nine months from now there's going to be someone sucking on them almost 24/7.

Might even be me.
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 15:31, 11 replies)
Topless Biker
I was about 11 when I saw the breasts of a Chinese woman. She was pushing her bike along the pavement of a small Buckinghamshire town where I reside, and I was in the car with my Mum on the way to collect my Dad from work.

I couldn't believe what I'd seen; she had her top pulled down to her waist,tiny denim shorts on and sandals. I remember my gut-stick doing that funny turn that happens when you go down a dip in the road really fast in a car.

We picked my Dad up and I was telling him excitedly what I'd seen. On the way back home, we saw her again, only this time being escorted my two policemen. She had yet to pull her top up and on closer inspection I realised that one of her breasts was banana shaped. I remember how care free and happy she looked though, and I looked out for her whenever we drove on that road. I never did see her again.

I miss you topless Chinese bicycle lady.
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 15:23, 2 replies)
Classrooms
Funbags. I love them. Apart from when you are in a school.

Where I teach, there is no uniform. I used to teach one of a set of twins, my best mate at work taught the other at the same time. I will be crude - they were dim. Very dim and did little work.

When I used to go across to tell her off, she would lean forwards, arms under her quite superb breasts and create a platform that you could launch a lunar probe from. The cleavage would have need a couple of tonnes of cement to fill. They were magnificent. Her twins were nigh on the same, apart from she was a bit more "prone" to cover them up.

Me and my friend once told a trainee teacher about these celestial orbs, and he came into the next lesson for a quick glance, only to be asked by Twin 1 how to do a question about which one of sin, cos and tan to use - he replies "you have to decide by looking at the tit-angle".

Smiles all round
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 15:18, 17 replies)
Mrs Vagabond's mum was in the kitchen with her brother, and they were both looking out of the window at the garden.
Her brother said to her "Great tits, Peg", and then desperately "IN THE HEDGE!"
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 14:10, 6 replies)
You killed them! I thought you liked them? They liked you...
Scarpe's Rocky related story reminded me of this. (I misread it originally as Rocky Horror and had a good laugh when I realised.)

It was during the closest thing to an orgy I've ever participated in. I'll set the scene: A bunch of 20year-olds, about half of whom know each other from participating in a university club dedicated to circus tricks, go to see Rocky Horror on a big projector screen at an outdoor cinema. I imagine many of you have seen it - if so, do you recall Riff Raff and Magenta's odd Transylvanian Salute type thing? If not, it's at 2:58 of this: www.youtube.com/watch?v=DMkOt6nVQlU

Afterwards, a bunch of us feel like some booze and go back to the house of one bloke, let's call him Lucky Bastard as he was at that time screwing on a regular basis the tiny smokin' acrobat we shall refer to as Kitten.

There ended up being five of us crashing out at Lucky's place, Kitten, me and two blokes we'll call Jay and Silent Bob, because it approximates their physical types and also makes me giggle.

Kitten, Jay and I, who've known each other since high school, got ready to go to sleep in a king size bed that was unoccupied because Lucky's family was away (Bob crashed in Lucky's sister's single). Kitten, however, soon abandoned us to go get a bottle of whiskey and join Lucky in his attic bedroom.

Which was directly above us. And had no door. And they moved furniture.

That wasn't a euphemism, they literally moved furniture at several points, judging by the noise. We could only speculate as to how or why.

So me and Jay are lying there awkwardly for an hour listening to sex noises and imagining what must be going on up there. Eventually, Kitten drops back by our room to pout that Lucky's worn out and wants to sleep, and what with one thing and another we all end up going upstairs to keep her company "until he recovers." The racket had got Bob out of his room as well.

And she hadn't bothered to put clothes on but was going around wrapped in a blanket.

So long story short, there ends up being some making out and groping, which doesn't go further on the basis that I can't take my pants off because of my period and Jay can't take his pants off because his girlfriend's not there (good rule to have though, really). Much hilarity is derived from the fact that Lucky's response to "wake up, two seminaked girls are making out in your bed" was something along the lines of a mumbled "tell them to come back tomorrow" - I have no idea what Kitten did to the poor guy! Silent Bob felt like a bit of a... fifth wheel? because I didn't know him that well, he was mostly Kitten's friend. But you can't have five people in a house and three of them making out and not at least let him watch.

Anyway, after a while we sort of wound down, and ended up having a collective nap in a giant seminude cuddle-pile. Nothing of the sort has happened to me before or since!

Oh yeah, why did I think of it just now? Because somewhere in between the make-outs and the cuddle-pile, me and Kitten invented, performed and giggled our heads off at the Transylvanian Boob Salute. It does exactly what it says on the tin.
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 14:09, 4 replies)
First Aid training
Some 15 years ago I was trained as a first aider at work. at the end of the course you had to do a practical exam, so they got all these volunteers in. One was a young lady of about 17, with huge fun bumps. HUGE
one of the guys was "assigned" to treat her imaginary wound. A stab wound to the right chest area. sadistic bastard examiner put the sticker simulating blood right in the nipple area. so 30+ YO bloke had to "apply pressure" to a 17YOs boobage. I still hate him
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 14:07, Reply)
Lifeguard training.
I did the course at school, whilst still in my exceedingly nerdy phase.
There was a lass in my class who had perhaps the best smallest frame/largest boob ratio I think I've ever seen. Needless to say there was much interest in her and she was in the "in" crowd.
So we all had to do the tow part of the test. You have to tow the "lifeless body" back to the edge of the pool and get them in a position to give mouth to mouth. Any other lifeguards here? If so, is there another way other than putting your arm over their shoulder and holding them under the arm pit? 'Cos if there is I'm glad it wasn't taught.
As the examiner was pairing us up, all the lads moved slowly but surely nearer and nearer this girl all with the same dream. The dream that was awarded to me! All eyes turned to me. A few jealous, a few wondering how much I'd payed the examiner. I felt a nerdbeating not far away.
And so we come to the test itself.
Without wishing to sound misoganystic, she really would never have needed saving. If it weren't for the fact she was so bouyant I don't think I'd have passed.
My arm just reached round, forcing one of her boobs out of the water and into the air, where it floated like a weather balloon fallen to sea. By this time, all other attempts at saving their respective partners had ceased. All eyes were on us, an audible gasp floated out as I had to adjust my hold and copped the biggest accidental grope ever. By the time I had her at the poolside, I was redder than Gordon at Duffygate. Very little was said after this, I was revered amongst nerds, I'd held aloft the chalice of popularity and lived to tell the tale.
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 13:43, 7 replies)
Does anyone else name theirs?
Mine are called Pinky and Perky...


...for obvious reasons. Well, obvious if you know them as well as I do.
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 13:38, 8 replies)
Kinda like Cinderella's glass slipper...
I have bought a 40M cup bra.

Clicky - SFWish - AmpleBosom's Lingerie site

When I find the woman that fits that.... :D
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 13:32, 7 replies)
Steve Martin in 'Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid' on the subject of Rachel Ward's breasts
"They were like 2 turtles tap-dancing under a carpet."
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 11:29, Reply)
There is NOTHING better
than shoving your face between a set of nice big boobs and just laying there for a good 5 to 10 minutes while you starve yourself of oxygen just enough to forget your problems and relax...

I'll be back in about 10.
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 11:17, Reply)
Like two kittens fighting in a pillowcase ...
... they were her best feature. Perky and bouncy ... mmmm
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 11:03, Reply)
Tits glorious tits
baps, jubb-er-lies, funbags....
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 11:00, Reply)
Serious doubts
I've only glimpsed a sight of lady mammorys
through some dodgy photographs,grainy film footage or poorly drawn sketches
in some school text books which my dad has kept since the early 1970's.
They're like bigfoot to me.
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 10:18, 6 replies)
Zorro!
Ever since Viz came up with the definition of "to zorro" (i.e. to skilfully flick your cock from side to side at the moment of spaffing, as you would yield a rapier, to stripe your jizz across the tits in the style of an accomplished swordsman) Mrs Biscuit has been challenging me to zorro her norks.

Apparently she's got little estimation for the amount of self-control that men can still have at the moment of coughing one's filthy custard.

So anyway, last weekend I eschewed the delights of spaffing in her gob in favour of zorroing her tits.

And the results were fabulous.

At least for me.

But rather than massaging the cum into her skin like a porn star she scuttled off sharpish to the bathroom, leaving me to revel in my victory. I reckon she made the mistake of putting the shower on hot, causing the sement to crystallise like cumcrete. She was itching at her tits the whole day long trying to get the crust off.

I haven't been invited to fuck her since. No idea why...
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 9:36, 8 replies)
Question
So for two girls of equal character, would you go for the flat-chested girl with a lovely bum, or the bony-arsed girl with tremendous boobs?
(, Tue 11 May 2010, 1:35, 32 replies)
Freudian
Years and years ago, I was at a party talking about cartoons with a group of people. I was sitting on a bar stool, looking downward toward a female classmate whose shirt was V-cut and showed a little cleavage. I genuinely was going to ask her if she had seen that hilarious cartoon about the giant blue guy that shouts "SPOOOOON" and has a sidekick named Arthur who wears a moth costume.

"Hey have you seen The Tit?"

whoops.
(, Mon 10 May 2010, 22:53, 1 reply)
Musical height differences
I roped myself into joining the Gilbert & Sullivan Society at university, mostly because I wanted to pull the society secretary (who had very impressive norks, but this story is not about her). My first operetta with them was "The Gondoliers", which we performed semi-staged, so some learning of choreography was required. For one number we were all paired off, and at the end of the song the men had to stand behind the women and put their hands on the women's hips. All well and good.

Now, I'm over six feet tall. My dance partner for this number was only tenuously above five feet tall. The result was that, instead of putting my hands on her hips, I planted them firmly on her dainty but perfectly-formed baps. She didn't seem to mind, much. Then again this was Gilbert & Sullivan so she probably assumed I was gay, which would explain the lack of follow-up. Damn.
(, Mon 10 May 2010, 22:47, 1 reply)
One of the worst moments of my life.
Okay, so with the years of drug abuse, self-harm and suffering with a major mental illness, considering I haven't hit 20 yet, maybe not the worst moment of my life. But it made me feel pretty dirty.
I was in a bad-time, not taking my meds, and before Greg lived with me. It was raining, and I had to skate. So I tore up all the carpet and made the miniest of mini ramps. My landlord didn't really like that. He was a total creep, he used to leer at me whenever I walked past him. If looks could molest...
This particular day he broke into my flat and told me the only way I wasn't being evicted was if I made him laugh, cry or cum. I couldn't actually tell if he was joking or not, so I stood still hoping he would go away. I won't say what happened, he didn't actually rape me (though sometimes I wish he had, so he'd have got longer), but I can't say it was a good thing.
Anyway, in court he said he did it because, "A teenager with breasts like that! She deserved it, maybe wanted it to happen. Why else would she walk around with those little tank tops with the bra straps showing?" Scumbag.

Sorry about lack of laughs. I'll try to think of a lighter story to post next!
(, Mon 10 May 2010, 22:33, 3 replies)
My ex
swore blind it was called a Sophie Tit Wank.
(, Mon 10 May 2010, 22:16, 3 replies)
Sigh...
I'm 31 now, and I've still never had a proper soapy tit wank. I've had plenty of dry bunny rubs, and very nice they are too, but given that the idea of a nice soapy diddy ride has been my favourite untried proclivity since I first heard about it as a callow youth, it's a bit disappointing.

I think I'd rather have a soapy tit wank than a full penetrative fuck. Especially if the tits are as perfect as the pair I was obsessed with when I was at school. Her shirt potatoes still haunt my dreams. A nice moist STW from her would have left me able to die a happy man.

Mmmm... soapy.
(, Mon 10 May 2010, 21:50, 4 replies)
Doug Stanhope on breasts
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tXSn2yPZWxU
(, Mon 10 May 2010, 20:37, Reply)
well once upon a time
me and my ex went to a posh hotel for a huge treat. we had wee babies then and of course she fed them with her 'jugs of milk'. so there we were having breakfast and we were surrounded by Colonel Blimp types with equaly uptight wives. The room fell silent when we entered, and we hushed the kids the moment they made any noise. It was pretty uncomfortable. However...the youngest (about 3 months) needed a feed and my misses was a ninja at slipping her boob out and feeding with anyone noticing under her jumper. Easy. Except when the little one came off her nipple she had what she called let down relief - to you and me thats a shot of boob milk and in this case it went some distance..onto Colonel Blimps head on the next table. So he wipes it off but studies it, then looks to the ceiling for a leak. Then he calls the waiter over. They study it together. And Col Blimp tastes it...

sorry for the length but boobs are a hobby of mine
(, Mon 10 May 2010, 20:27, 1 reply)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Latest, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, ... 1