Baby, It's Cold Outside - Sex Stories

Baby, It's Cold Outside

... the thin crop top fabric like hidden thumbs. The combination of these pointies and her 34Ds resulted in the bottom of her crop top gapping away from her chest by a good three inches. I could see the bottom of her orbs.

Pam sat down beside me and spread the afghan over us. I was warming up from not only the fire and blanket, but also Pam’s body heat.

We sipped our Peet’s and made small talk. After nine or ten minutes, Pam put her mug on the coffee table and snuggled up to my left shoulder, stating, “This is a good way to warm up, isn't it?”

Without giving it much thought, I draped my left arm around her, drawing her head onto my chest. Pam placed her left hand on my chest and began lightly massaging my pecs. I sprung a woody.

“You know, Bart (my name). I've seen the way you undress me with your eyes when we talk. Do you fantasize about touching my boobs and sucking my nipples?”

Before I could answer, she questioned, “You think about me when you masturbate, don't you?”

This was like asking me, “Have you quit beating your wife?” Yes or no? It seemed like an answer to the affirmative was in order, given the circumstances.

Pam knew what she wanted. She moved her left hand from my chest down to my right wrist. She lifted my hand and brought it to her bare belly. I almost fainted. I did swoon when I felt her other hand on the top of my thigh, not more than an inch from my boner.

I snuck a peek at her face. Her eyes were shut, but her lips were parted. She ...

... clearly was poised for me to pleasure her. I almost had a premature ejaculation.

I shrugged off the afghan and leaned toward her torso. I pulled off my cap and gave it a toss.

My lust was on autopilot. I slowly inched my hand up her toned belly, then under the edge of her crop top. I cupped her left breast, then the right and lightly pinched each nipple as I reversed. I heard her sigh and I felt her warm breath on my cheek.

Pam used her left hand to fold the tee up and over her knockers. I blurted out, “Holy shit!” I was briefly embarrassed, but Pam’s tits had to be in the top one percent of all the tits in the tata universe. Each mildly pendulous breast was the size and shape of a perfectly round grapefruit half. Sitting an inch above the equator were Hershey Kiss-sized areolae, constricted and wrinkled from their cold exposure, my stimulation and her arousal. Her nipples, each the size of a #2 pencil’s eraser, seemed to beckon, “Come suck me.”

I guess I'm good at taking orders, as I was on those beauties in a New York minute. I took my time licking and sucking and twirling and pinching each pokey, then repeated.

Pam seemed to be enjoying herself. She began rubbing my bald head and uttering, “Yeah, Baby. Suck my tits. Pull my nipples. Bite ‘em.”

I couldn’t get enough of Pam’s boobs. She seemed to be enjoying my attention to her mams, so I saw no reason to change up my technique and rock the boat.

At some point, Pam had stopped rubbing my head and instead ...